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God, it feels so good to be back in a real fucking bed, even if he knows this break in touring is going to be relatively short-lived. Ryan loves waking up with more than three inches of space between him and the wall, and he loves being able to sleep as long as he fucking wants, and being able to nap in his own bed, or even on the couch, without the threat of Brendon waking him up by belting something random at any given moment.
Instead, now, he gets to wake up to Spencer rubbing his back, and the smell of something sweet in the house. He hums, trying to sink deeper into bed, and Spencer climbs in behind him, holding him over the covers.
“Breakfast,” Spencer says, kissing the side of his face.
Ryan stretches, rolling onto his back to face Spencer, and leans up to kiss him. He cups the side of his face, feeling his scratchy facial hair under his fingers, and Spencer moves his hand down lower, pressing it to Ryan’s stomach through the blanket.
Spencer breaks away first, kissing from the corner of his mouth down to his neck, and Ryan could really go for some sleepy morning sex right about now, but, as he glances over to the alarm clock on the bedside table, he realizes he slept way in, (which he feels very entitled to, thanks,) and they only have, like, an hour until they said they’d be at Ginger’s.
“What’s for breakfast?” Ryan asks, his voice still feeling weird from sleep. Spencer pulls away slightly, sitting back up.
“I made waffles,” Spencer says. “And bacon, and I got fruit.”
“Since when do we have a waffle maker?”
“My mom gave me her old one a few months ago and I forgot about it until you kept getting them at hotel breakfasts,” Spencer tells him, and Ryan kisses him again, smiling into it.
Spencer’s good at this. It’s reassuring, really. Not that Ryan was super worried about it, of course, because he trusts Spencer, but, during that phase where he hadn’t admitted it to himself, he kept thinking about all those stories of people whose boyfriends get distant or weird when they’re pregnant, and then never help with the baby. It’s nice to know that he’s on board one hundred percent, and it seems like him taking on all the day to day stuff now just to let Ryan sleep more is a good sign for how much help he’ll be once the kid’s here.
Ryan is enjoying it, frankly. He doesn’t always love feeling this dependent, and on tour he would have killed someone for just two seconds alone, but now he really is just so incredibly tired, and Spencer seems to feel reassured by taking care of him. Ryan thought that he was tired and cranky when he was touring normally, but touring while pregnant has taken it out of him in a way he never imagined possible, and he’s really not in a position to deny some pampering now that he’s home.
Ryan stretches again, then sits up, forcing Spencer to move back, too.
Spencer smiles at him, lopsided and fond, but with a hint of mischief. Ryan raises an eyebrow, and Spencer reaches up to tug on a lock of his hair. Bedhead. Ryan rolls his eyes, and reaches out to fuck up Spencer’s hair in retaliation.
He’ll just shower and fix it after breakfast. Whatever.
Pregnancy has mainly made Ryan tired and nauseous, (and horny,) but, for some reason, it’s made Spencer clingy. That’s not a bad thing, really, but it is a bit jarring after years of just being casually attached at the hip. Now, Spencer seems to be attached to him at the waist, mostly.
They actually eat at the table for once, because neither of them are keen to risk having to clean up syrup from the couch, and Spencer spends the entire meal with a foot hooked around Ryan’s ankle.
“So,” Ryan says, kicking Spencer’s foot back familiarly. “I was thinking maybe we get your mom, like, a T-shirt, or something, do one of those viral internet video style pregnancy reveals.”
“Why?” Spencer asks around a mouthful. “That doesn't seem very, uh, you.”
“It makes it seem more on purpose,” Ryan shrugs. He spears a strawberry with his fork.
“Does it matter to you that she thinks it’s on purpose?”
Ryan pauses. His brain snags on that, pulling him back and keeping him still like when Spencer grabs him by the belt loops. Does he care?
It’s embarrassing, he thinks, on some level, to admit to your boyfriend's mother, the woman you've known since you were a child, who practically raised you, that you got yourself knocked up on accident. He knows he’s old enough, that he’s ready for this, they’re ready for this, but something about this whole situation feels very… Juno, somehow. He wants it to feel more Full House.
He supposes he’s just scared she’ll be mad. He wants to do everything he can to make sure she’s not mad at him.
“It matters to me that she isn’t upset,” Ryan says. “I want to give her, like, cues about how to react. I don’t want her to have to guess about whether or not this is good.”
“Baby.” Spencer’s voice is soft. He puts his fork down to reach for Ryan’s hand. “She loves you so much. She’s going to be thrilled.”
“She’s not going to be mad I’m having a baby with her golden-boy son out of wedlock?”
“First of all, golden-boy is a stretch,” Spencer says, rubbing the back of Ryan’s hand with his thumb. “Second of all, she’d never say it, because it sounds fucked up, but I think she’s going to be ecstatic that I managed to tie you to me forever, even if the way we did it is a little out of order.”
“Your mom wants you to baby trap me?” Ryan asks, skeptical. He remembers his food, and takes another bite of bacon.
“Absolutely,” Spencer says. He scoots his chair closer, and drops his hand just to reach up and fuck with his hair. “Besides, you know how much she’s always complimenting your bone structure. I think she’s going to be just as excited as I am that there’s going to be a little kid running around at family Christmas with your genes.”
Ryan sighs, leans into his hand, and closes his eyes for a moment, just trying to let it sink in, trying to believe him.
“We can still do the shirt thing if it makes you more comfortable.”
Ryan shakes his head slightly. He’s right, it would be weird.
“Okay,” Spencer says. He leans over to kiss Ryan, and he tastes like syrup.
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Spencer drives like an eighty year old woman all the way to his moms house, meticulously checking his mirrors and taking every turn at a snail's pace. It’s not like he’s a bad driver normally, but he does, occasionally, not slow down enough for a turn, or roll through a stop sign.
Apparently, his brand spanking new parental anxiety is kicking in full-force in the form of obsessively driving like he’s trying to get his first license.
Ryan fiddles with the radio, and his sidekick, trying to distract himself from the pit in his stomach. At every red light Spencer reaches over to put his hand on Ryan’s thigh, like he just has to remind himself that he’s there.
Ryan sets his hand on the back of Spencer’s neck, and that makes his shoulders relax.
“So, I was thinking we could go shopping after this,” Spencer finally speaks up.
“For what?”
“Cat toys,” Spencer says, feigning a casual shrug. He smiles at Ryan out of the corner of his eye, only glancing away from the road for the briefest of seconds. “We also need to look at cribs, and stuff. I’m not sure how to fit that into the cat metaphor, but I figured you’ll probably be pretty particular about themes, so we should start getting ideas early.”
Ryan bites his lip, trying not to smile too hard, and fidgets with the hair at the back of Spencer’s neck. “I’d like that,” he says.
“Good.” Spencer stops at a red light, and he reaches back to grab Ryan’s hand off the back of his neck, lacing their fingers together loosely so he can kiss the back of his hand. He lets go when the light turns green, and Ryan puts his hand on his shoulder again.
The nerves only get worse as he watches Spencer take the familiar turns onto his moms street. He’s actually starting to get genuinely nauseous from it now. He sighs, and takes his hand off of Spencer so he can press his fist to his mouth, trying to breathe through it and hoping it won’t get worse.
Spencer puts the car in park, and then awkwardly shuffles in his seat to access the front pocket of his jeans. He manages to fish out a box of Tic Tacs, which he hands to Ryan.
“Thank you,” Ryan says, tossing three into his mouth.
“Of course.”
Spencer turns the car off, and Ryan turns to look at him. He doesn’t know what his face communicates exactly, but Spencer grabs his hand to kiss it again.
His gaze is so fucking intense sometimes. Ryan thinks if you google the phrase ‘piercing blue eyes,’ a photo of Spencer should show up as the first result. The way he looks at you sometimes, when he really looks, it’s like he can see right through your skin.
Ryan imagines that it must be unnerving for people who aren’t used to it, but he is used to it. It’s captivating, it demands your attention, and that’s probably why he does it.
“My mom loves cats,” Spencer says against the back of his hand.
Ryan smiles weakly, and he wants to wait in the car a bit longer, maybe just cuddle a bit, as much as one can in a car, and regroup, but then the front door opens, and Ginger is walking out to greet them.
They get out of the car, and Ginger hugs Spencer first, because he’s closer. She opens her free arm to Ryan, though, and gathers them both up into a group hug in the driveway.
“My boys!” she says, happily swaying them back and forth. “Come on in! Have you eaten? I have some of those apple strudel things you boys used to eat in about two seconds flat when you were younger.”
Ryan remembers those. She used to get them for them when they had sleepovers in middle school, and, later, she’d get them every time Ryan had to stay over for, uh, other reasons. It was comforting, and they were fucking delicious, and they sound really good right now.
“We just had breakfast,” Spencer says, following her to the door as she finally pulls away.
“I could really go for an apple fritter, I’m not gonna lie,” Ryan admits. “I’m not that full.”
Spencer looks over at him, grabbing his hand as they climb the steps to the front door. His face goes all soft, and he glances at his stomach a lot, which is, again, not subtle. They’re gonna have to tell her pretty much immediately, he thinks, because if they don’t Spencer’s going to make it really obvious really quickly.
“I can send you home with some too,” she offers as she opens the door for them.
“That would be great,” Ryan says. “I’ve been so hungry recently,” he says with a meaningful look at Spencer, who does not manage not to grin behind his moms back.
They sit down on the couch, and Ginger brings out the apple fritters, putting them on the coffee table in front of them. He swallows the mints that are still in his mouth immediately at the promise of apple fritters. Ryan takes one, because, well, he is actually starving and the smell of them alone is making him salivate.
“So,” Ginger says, grabbing one of her own. “Europe! Tell me everything.”
“It was great,” Spencer says, and he launches into all of their absolute most parent-friendly stories. She probably doesn’t ever really believe them that their experience with being on tour was this mom-approved, but, this time, especially after the whole pregnancy revelation, it actually was pretty tame.
Ryan listens to Spencer tell animated stories about Brendon being denied an energy drink in England for not having his ID or ‘looking definitively over sixteen,’ and Jon getting completely lost in Amsterdam, (leaving out the fact that he was high as a fucking kite.) He adds occasional comments between bites of food, and, once he’s eaten his fill, (for now,) he has to admit he feels a bit more relaxed.
Spencer puts a hand on his knee, and Ryan turns to look at him. He glances at his mom, and down to Ryan’s stomach, and then he raises his eyebrows. Now? Ryan shrugs, and his stomach drops a bit, which Spencer correctly reads as ‘sure, but I’m nervous.’ Spencer grabs his hand, and squeezes. Ryan nods subtly.
“Oh no, you two are doing your mind tricks again. I know that look, what is it,” Ginger jokes. Ryan turns to her, smiling sheepishly, but his mouth feels dry, so he squeezes Spencer’s hand. You do it.
“So, we had a bit of a surprise in Germany,” Spencer says, and he cannot contain his excitement. It makes Ryan’s chest feel warm and fuzzy, even if it is a bit tight with anxiety.
“Good surprise?” Ginger asks. Spencer smiles hard, his wide, real smile, as he nods. It is adorable. Ryan tries to focus on that.
“Really good,” he says. Seemingly unable to contain himself, he wraps both arms around Ryan’s shoulders. “We thought Ryan was coming down with something for a while, but, one trip to a German pharmacy and a google translated test later…” He pauses for suspense, because he’s more dramatic than he likes to believe he is, then says “We’re pregnant!”
Her mouth hangs open, and she glances between the two of them. “You’d better not be messing with me,” she says, and Ryan’s heart is beating out of his chest.
“We’re not,” Spencer laughs, and Ginger almost immediately yells, excitedly standing up and crossing the room with her arms open. Spencer laughs, standing up as well, and pulls Ryan with him.
Ryan fully expects her to hug her son, but, instead, he immediately finds himself being pulled into a tight hug.
Instantly, the tension leaves him, and he hugs her back just as tight. It’s even better when Spencer slides into the hug behind him, his hand sliding around to the front of Ryan’s hip.
“God, congratulations,” Ginger whispers, rubbing his back. She pulls back, cups Ryan’s face with one hand, and her eyes look misty as she exclaims “My first grandbaby!” and then she’s immediately hugging Ryan again.
“You’d better be taking good care of him, mister,” she says, clearly talking to Spencer. “He’s going through enough right now.”
Ryan laughs, and, pulling back again, assures her “He is. I promise.” As soon as he’s separated from Ginger’s hold, he finds himself back in Spencer’s, both of his arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind. Spencer kisses the side of his face, and Ryan adds “He even bought me flowers when I had a hormonal hissy fit at dinner.”
“It wasn’t a hissy fit,” Spencer defends, and Ryan rolls his eyes. “You were just overwhelmed, and it’s reasonable to be annoyed at me and Brendon pretty much any time.”
“See?” Ryan says, sharing a grin with Ginger.
“Good,” Ginger says, approving. Her eyes light up after a moment, though, and she says “Oh! Is your trunk cleared out?”
“I think so?” Spencer laughs.
“Perfect,” Ginger says. “I have so many hand me downs for you guys, and I’ll have more when you know if it’s a boy or a girl.” She claps, then practically scurries out of the room. “This’ll all need a good wash, but let me get the tubs from storage!” she calls out.
Spencer laughs as she leaves, and says “I told you so.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan replies. He turns around, and Spencer kisses him again.
“Spence will have to help me with the boxes,” Ginger says as she comes back into the room. “But these are in pretty good shape.” Ryan puts his arms around Spencer’s waist this time as his mom hands him a handful of soft items. “These were yours.”
It’s nothing monumental, really, just a little stuffed bear and a baby blanket, but Spencer clearly recognizes them to some degree, because Ryan can feel his breath hitch as he holds him. He kisses him on the shoulder.
“Thank you, mom,” he says softly, reaching down to grab Ryan’s hand.
“Of course,” Ginger replies, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I was saving that for you two.”
Spencer, despite clearly still being emotional, still manages to look smug as he smiles at Ryan over his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow. I told you so.
Ryan rolls his eyes, and squeezes his waist.