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So. Essentially, Spencer is fucked.
No pun intended.
Sue him for trying to do a good thing and donate blood. Which, apparently, he cannot do for the time being. Because he is HIV-positive.
He assumes this is something he has to mention to his employer. And, really, if he worked at a different company he would. One where he could send an E-Mail, and would receive an impersonal response wishing him the best and reminding him of his rights as an employee. Like, okay, information received and written into a personal file nobody will ever look at. We don’t care about you or your STD’s as long as you show up to work and make us profit.
Smosh, however, is not that workplace. There is no way around a lengthy, compassionate talk with whoever is responsible for handling this information. He would be told that his wellbeing is important, and to never hesitate to reach out if he needs assistance or a day off for anything. Somehow, this conversation would last 25 minutes, and both parties involved would shed tears.
In a theoretical, impersonal setting, he would have no problem facing any stigma or judgment. But the familiar atmosphere and genuine friendship at Smosh… that he cannot handle.
# # # # #
So Spencer does what he does best: He doesn’t make his business anyone else’s business. He does research on HIV, makes an appointment with his doctor for the next Monday (at 7 AM, but still lucky) and goes to work afterwards like nothing happened. Because, really, nothing did. He’ll have to take meds now. Once or twice a day. Go to the doctor four times a year. He can do that. And nobody has to know about it, if he’s not having sex with them.
It goes well for less than a week. On Monday, the doctor talks about safe sex with a stern face – deserved. Spencer’s old enough to know better. He says they need to test his blood again, and it will take a few days. On Wednesday, he gets a call from his doctor and has to step out during a Games shoot. They have confirmed his infection, and he can pick up meds at a pharmacy today. Because the modern day is awesome and he can get the prescription on his phone.
They explain to him that these are just the first meds they’re trying. They may not be what works for his body. Spencer decides he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. For now, he decides, his just-got-HIV-era is over. He’s used to it now and everything is fine.
The last shoot on Thursday is culinary crimes with Court and Tommy. It’s a good video to film while mildly exhausted – the energy doesn’t need to be that high, and the food does the rest. One of the foods this episode is a cake, and apparently it is important that they cut into it and give a live reaction to what’s inside. Figuring he has the least expressive face, Spencer volunteers to cut the cake, leaving the other two to figure out what reaction is expected of them.
He tries to make the cut elegant – however one cuts cake in an elegant manner, and he has to remember his blocking. The cake should be visible to at least one of the cameras, but also to Court and Tommy, and he has to make sure to not get in the way, and – he’s cut into his finger.
At first, he’s just a little embarrassed. How did he even manage to do that? Tommy and Courtney look at his finger and ask if he’s okay, but it’s not a bad cut, so they’re not really concerned, just sympathetic. They laugh, too, because they are filming and it was a very stupid way to get hurt. There is movement behind the scenes, someone is getting a band-aid. Someone else is getting a new knife, and Court takes it. Spencer puts the band-aid on.
“You can cut some slices from the other side of the cake, and just avoid the side Spencer cut”, someone instructs.
“Yeah, avoid the biohazard”, Court mumbles, already concentrated on the cake.
And Spencer? He suddenly feels sick to his stomach. He has to leave, right now, and he does. People seem concerned as he stands up to leave, wordlessly and hurried, just as they were ready to continue. He enters into the handicap bathroom that doubles as gender neutral. It’s the most privacy he can get in this office, because he can lock the entire bathroom and not just one stall.
He sits down on the toilet and breathes. He gets up again, peels off the band-aid, and washes his hands. He knows that they don’t know. Blood is just generally a biohazard, and it wasn’t even a serious comment. And he wouldn’t want to eat anyone else’s blood. And it’s fine. There’s HIV in his blood, but nobody’s ingesting it. Or rubbing it into their own wounds. Two things can be true at the same time: nothing will happen, and this is why he should have told someone.
And he knows all those things, not just generally but in this moment. Still, his heart will not calm down, he feels jittery and exhausted, he can’t stay in this bathroom, and he can’t go back out there.
There’s a knock on the door. “Hey, everything okay in there?”
Other people, when they attempt to comfort someone, seem like there is nothing they would rather be doing than talking to you like a five-year-old. Not Tommy, though. Tommy sounds severely uncomfortable with this situation, and he’s reaching out anyways. Somehow, it means so much more that way.
“Uhm, yeah. Just needed a second”, Spencer says, and unlocks the door. It’s only a few seconds later when Tommy hesitantly enters, that he registers this particular action.
“Where’d the band-aid go?”
“It’s in the sink.” Spencer mumbles, fishes it out and throws it in the bin. He had been too busy with the need to wash away the blood to dispose of it before. “Just wanted to wash my hands first.”
Tommy inclines his head, nods, and gives him a smile. “You want me to get you a new one? And then you can get back on set, and we take a minute?”
Spencer nods. Then, as Tommy turns around, he feels afraid again. “Uhm- “ he starts, not yet sure where this will go, “the blood on- I mean I didn’t look but if there was blood on the- “
“Well, we already threw away a generous part of the cake, and the plate and table were fine. I mean, the blood wasn’t like gushing out or anything.”
Spencer doesn’t say anything. It’s not enough, somehow, doesn’t calm his mind.
“I’ll check it again to make sure”, Tommy says then, with a kind smile. He takes some toilet paper, folds it neatly, holds one half under the water, folds it again. Like that, he leaves the bathroom and walks towards their set. Wet toilet paper is not exactly desinfecting, but it's the gesture that counts.
Spencer’s body might have calmed down in the last minute, but something about the way Tommy took care of him seems to have his body reconsider. His heart Is beating like it’s got a deadline to meet. Good to know he’ll never be too anxious to be into Tommy.
After a minute, he’s back with a new band-aid, wet toilet paper (hopefully) safely disposed of elsewhere, and Spencer feels ready to get back on set. At first, Tommy tries to put the band-aid on Spencer himself, but he won’t allow it.
“Just thought you might not want to look”, Tommy mumbles, shrugs, smiles. Spencer doesn’t comment, content to have Tommy think he is just squeamish about blood but too proud to let someone take care of him. It’s not that far off, really.
They go back, and the rest of the shoot is uneventful. Spencer thinks it’s gonna be a great video, though he’s not sure where they’ll have to cut around the whole cake-cutting-incident. The cake with questionable ingredients definitely didn’t get the reaction it deserved.
# # # # #
The whole pretending-nothing-happened thing seems to not be working. Tommy is worried about him. Courtney too, even though all they knows is that Spencer ran off and came back without explaining himself. Tommy probably didn’t even tell her about the state he was in in that bathroom, Because Tommy is a good friend who can keep a secret. So, exactly the kind of friend Spencer needs right now.
Also, not to be problematic, but it helps that he’s gay. But not even for the obvious reason. It’s more complicated:
“Hey, do you have a minute?” Spencer asks, on Friday Morning after a shoot they were both in.
“Sure, of course.”
“Okay, that’s uhm, good. Can we find somewhere quiet?”
“We can try”, Tommy says with a laugh, but actually thinks about it before walking off, Spencer trailing behind.
They get into a currently unoccupied office, and Spencer leans against the desk, hands fidgeting with the edge of the desk. Tommy sits down on the desk, next to him. The easy part’s done. Now for the honesty and emotional vulnerability.
“Okay, I’m gonna need you to not be judgmental, even if you have every right to, I promise I already know whatever you want to say.”
Tommy nods, puzzled, not interrupting. Ready to listen.
“I uhm, I had this bad cold a few weeks ago, right, and after it was gone I went to donate blood and… they E-Mailed me a day later, said my blood couldn’t be used because I was HIV-positive.”
Tommy gasps, says “oh my god”, and puts a hand on Spencer’s shoulder.
“I mean, it’s gonna be fine I guess, as long as I keep taking medication, because it was found early, but uhm… yeah it still sucks, I guess.”
They sit in silence for a moment, then Tommy asks, “How long ago was that?”
“Exactly one week.”
“And yesterday- “
“I freaked out because I was bleeding, because I’m HIV-positive. You got it.”
“Oh honey,” Tommy mumbles, and it’s an unusual nickname from him, but far be it from Spencer to complain. He also does not complain when Tommy takes him into his arm. He gives himself a few minutes to enjoy the warmth and comfort, before steeling himself to drop another truth bomb on Tommy.
“Okay so it gets worse, sorta,” he begins. Tommy lets go of him so they’re both upright again, and looks at Spencer attentively. “I’m pretty sure I contracted it via unprotected sex. With a guy. Which may sound like a homophobic joke but is the truth.”
Tommy, bless his heart, seems to try and react normally for a second, before he gives up and asks, utterly confused, “you had sex with a guy?”
“Yeah. Was interested, I guess.”
That does earn him a small laugh. “Guess that’s as good a reason as any. Without protection, though?”
Spencer sighs. “I know, I should have said no. Or insisted on it. But in the heat of the moment, I was kinda afraid to do that. Like I thought he’d get mad that I was inexperienced and a prude. Or something.
“Oh honey,” Tommy repeats. “Jesus Christ”, he adds. Spencer gets it. Jesus Christ indeed.
“So um, I didn’t just wanna vent, I actually need your help”, Spencer mumbles. This too shall pass. He can do this. Tommy nods, encouraging him to go on. “So the guy, he um, I don’t think he knew, because if he did, he would have used a condom, right?”
“He was the one using a condom? Or not using one?”
“Oh my god, Tommy, please”, Spencer said, burying his face in his hands. “Yes, I bottomed. And he didn’t wanna use a condom. ‘Cause he probably doesn’t know he’s HIV positive. So I should tell him, right?”
Tommy, finally having computed the specifics of this sexual encounter, makes a noise of agreement.
“The problem is, I don’t know where to find him.”
“Did you meet him through Grindr?” Tommy asks, with a knowing undertone.
“Yeah, and I can’t find his profile anymore. I don’t know if he deleted it or what, but it’s gone.”
“And you’re sure he didn’t know? Pressures you into unsafe sex and then ghosts you?” Tommy sounds sceptical, almost protective.
“He was nice, otherwise”, Spencer says, voice small. “I don’t know.”
Tommy takes a deep breath, nods, considers. “You can come over when we’re done here. Or I’ll just drive us both to my place. Then you tell me everything and I use my magic fairy powers to find one specific gay guy somewhere in California.”
“To be fair, I think we can narrow down the search radius a little bit”, Spencer laughs, grateful for Tommy being the way that he is.
“You don’t know how far some people will drive for a hookup.”
# # # # #
The rest of the day goes by just fine. Spencer has the awkward realisation that he doesn’t have his meds on him, and that they should therefore go to his place. He tells Tommy during lunch, and he also tells Kiana that Tommy’s coming over and she doesn’t have to drive him home. She doesn’t make an inappropriate comment, but he knows she’s thinking it.
“We’re just gonna talk”, Spencer says, making it worse. Normal hangouts usually don’t need this disclaimer.
“Well, have fun,” Kiana says, “and use protection.”
Spencer grimaces in a way that hopefully seems more defensively-heterosexual than caught red-handed. Whatever his face is doing, Kiana doesn’t comment on it and continues eating. Spencer has to take a few non-suspicious deep breaths until he feels normal enough to do the same.
# # # # #
They’re sitting on Spencer’s sofa, drinks on the little table in front of it. He feels hot all over, knows this entire ordeal will be endlessly embarrassing. But, as he’s learned in recent years, being vulnerable to the right people pays off, and Spencer thinks he might really need the comfort.
“Okay, I don’t really know how we’re going to find this guy, but I’m more interested in the whole story, anyways,” Tommy begins, turning his body towards Spencer and waiting, intrigued and grinning, for him to spill all the details.
“Uhm, well I downloaded Grindr-“
“Come on, that’s not the beginning!” Tommy interrupts. “What got you to do it?”
“I- “ Spencer had really hoped to avoid this particular aspect of the story. “I mean what made you download Grindr?” He asks back, accusingly, as if this would get him out of answering the question.
“Coming to terms with being gay.” Tommy says, without pause. “Now back to you.”
Spencer sighs. Considers his next words. “Well, I questioned my sexuality. Just because- because I got confused. And then I was less confused, and more sure I’m bi. And I figured I should, you know, do something with that knowledge.”
“Right”, Tommy mumbles, thoughtful, listening intently.
“And I guess I was frustrated? Like that it took me this long to realize? So part of me wanted to make up for lost time.”
Spencer hopes he’s doing a good job keeping Tommy’s involvement out of this story. He questioned his sexuality for no particular reason, and he was frustrated just because. Sure. Believable, probably.
“So, I downloaded Grindr and chatted with some guys. And the guy that seemed the nicest and didn’t send me any unsolicited dick pics, I asked him to meet with me.”
Tommy laughs at that, loud as always. It’s embarrassing, how easily it makes Spencer feel better about this whole thing.
“To be fair, I think my profile doesn’t really make it clear I’m not looking for that”, he mumbles.
“You have to show me your profile”, Tommy begs.
“No way.”
“Ugh, guess I’ll have to excuse myself to the bathroom and check for myself…” Tommy says, teasing, holding up his own phone.
“Okay, okay, fine. It’s literally not that interesting. It’s just… discreet.” And by discreet, Spencer means faceless. And look – he has to make up for that, right? So his picture is him in a flannel, top buttons open, showing his neck and his beard and his torso. It’s nothing special, but he understands how guys figured this meant “I want anonymous sex”.
Tommy really wants to inspect his profile though, because he fully picks the phone out of Spencer’s hand and holds it close to his face.
“Lukas?” He says, judgmentally, “That’s such an unsexy name!”
“I was going for chill and nerdy, not sexy.”
“Hm. I’ll find you a better name to use next time.” Tommy says, shakes his head and finally hands the phone back.
“Yeah I think ‘next time’ is kinda off the table at the moment,” Spencer mumbles, looking down at his phone. They should get their conversation back on track, anyways.
“I mean, you can just put it in your profile. Some people take PrEP. But yeah, I guess it shrinks the dating pool. And might get you mildly harassed by people who don’t read profile descriptions.”
“I think I’m… sufficiently scared off now anyways,” Spencer says. And hopelessly in love. He adds in his mind. The sex had been great, and scratched an itch that needed to be scratched. But now that it had happened, he really just wanted to find a solution to the whole Tommy thing. Whether it be fucking him, getting rejected, or moving to Alaska, he didn’t think he’d be ready to date or have sex with anyone else before something happened on that front.
“Scared off from being gay?”
“Dating. Sex. Whatever. I’m gonna… focus on myself or whatever.”
“Sounds healthy, I guess. But eventually, I think you should get out there again. Whether it’s just women or anyone, don’t make this into some twist of fate that it isn’t.” Tommy smiles at him, so soft, and Spencer wants to hide himself in his arm but restrains himself. “But enough about Grindr. What about the guy?”
Spencer sighs. “Well, his name was Brad, which I will say is less sexy than Lukas, but he was very nice. He said he was just looking for sex, but he wanted to chat first for a few days. So we talked about our interests and what we were doing. We didn’t really have anything in common, but I guess it wasn’t about that. Anyways, after three days I asked if he wanted to meet and invited him to my apartment, and uhm, we met here.”
“And fucked?”
“Yeah.”
“And you liked it?”
Spencer shrugs, then nods. “Yeah. I mean, we made out on the couch, that was kinda sweet, then we moved to my bed and it was more… frantic. And I got kinda insecure, but it felt good.”
“Insecure in what way?”
“Like I wondered if I was doing the right things, if a guy would even like that. If he could tell that this was my first time with one.”
Tommy is silent for a moment. “I have so many more questions, but first of all, I can’t believe I’m sitting on the very sofa you had your first gay experience on.”
“Well, actually…” Spencer begins, laughing at Tommy’s expression of shock. “in hindsight, I definitely had a crush on my best friend in high school. So, I think that may be my first gay experience, even if nothing happened.”
“Fair. Okay, this Brad guy, what did he look like?”
“Uhm, he was blond. But like, he dyed his hair blond. And he was taller than me, which I guess doesn’t narrow it down much. He was buff, too.” He sees Tommy’s eyes get a little big, and looks down at his lap.
“Facial hair? Piercings? Tattoos?”
“No piercings or tattoos, and in his picture he had a bit of a mustache, but he was clean-shaven when we met up.” When Tommy is silent, he knows he’s said too much. He looks down at his lap, awaiting his fate.
“Can we unpack that?” Tommy asks, softly. “Or just try to find Brad first?”
“Brad first,” Spencer mumbles, and it’s all he can say at the moment. Tommy, the angel that he is, doesn’t need him to say anything more.
“Okay let me think. Do you think Brad was his real name, or was it more of a Lukas situation?”
“Probably his real name, if his profile has his face, right?” Tommy nods, absentmindedly.
“A friend of mine used to date a Brad. I don’t remember whether he had a mustache, but he had his hair dyed, too.” Spencer nods, he knows this is a long shot. There are many Brads out there, and dying your hair blonde is not that rare. Neither is being gay.
“I don’t think I could find him on Insta, Sam’s big on deleting pictures and unfollowing exes. But I guess I can text Sam.”
“What are you gonna text him?” Spencer really doesn’t want this news to travel anywhere else.
“If he can send a picture of Brad, I just wanna see if a friend and I are talking about the same person. He wouldn’t question that. And if it’s him, I ask if he still has Brad’s number or can remember his Instagram, and I tell Sam I’ll explain at some point when we see each other again. Which will be months from now, probably, so he’ll forget it even happened.”
“That sounds awesome,” Spencer says, half joking, half in genuine awe at the ‘plan’.
The second Tommy has sent the message, Spencer gets up from the couch. He doesn’t want to talk about things now, and God knows when this Sam guy will respond.
“You want something to eat? I’m starving. I’m gonna make us some pasta, okay?” He says, doing a bad impression of someone who is literally not at all nervous about anything because everything is fine.
They don’t cook and eat in silence, in fact, there is much conversation happening. But it’s a little forced, and every quiet moment has Spencer on edge. Once they’re done, he goes to the bathroom to take his meds and take some deep breaths. When he gets back, the dishes are in the sink and Tommy has moved to the sofa again.
“Sam texted me, a minute ago,” he says, and shoves his phone into Spencer’s face. And, sure enough, it’s him. It’s a ridiculous coincidence, that a first name and vague description given to one person was enough, but it worked. He’s found Brad. In the photo, he’s clearly not ready, body in an awkward pose, caught in the middle of speaking. There is a guy next to him, presumably Sam, and he looks much better. He’s holding the camera, smiling confidently, and the light hits him just right. Spencer doesn’t know this Sam guy or anything about the relationship, but he respects the move.
“Yeah that’s him. Wait, when did your friend date him?”
“Two years ago, I think. But he sleeps with a lot of people, so I know he’s gotten tested since.”
“Oh good. Well, I guess you can ask for his number.”
Tommy does, taking a minute to find the right wording that doesn’t seem suspicious, or too interesting, or like he’s interested in Brad. Two minutes later, they have Brad’s number. Spencer doesn’t really know what to do.
“If you want, I can text him,” Tommy offers, “and say I’m Lukas.”
“No, I can do it, don’t worry,” Spencer sighs. “Just text me his number.”
As Spencer composes the message, Tommy gets up and carries his glass into the kitchen. He returns with it full and, seeing that Spencer is still typing, goes into the kitchen again to grab Spencer’s, which he left on the kitchen table after dinner. Once he’s sent the message, Spencer turns his phone off. He’ll look at it tomorrow, and then probably delete the chat.
Tommy sits down on the couch again, closer this time, and pulls Spencer into his arms. He lets it happen, and feels Tommy press his lips into his hair. They sit like that, in silence, for a few minutes.
Eventually, Spencer’s back starts to hurt from where he’s curling up against Tommy. He rights himself up, and makes the mistake of looking at Tommy. He’s looking back at Spencer, thoughtful, and as their eyes meet he smiles, then grins mischievously.
“So Brad, he’s tall, blonde, buff and has a mustache?” Tommy begins, and Spencer can already feel himself blush. “Would you say that’s your type?”
“I don’t know if I have one,” he answers, but he knows that Tommy knows he understood the real question being asked here. He knows he can’t actually avoid answering. But he can delay the inevitable, gather his courage, analyse Tommy’s reactions. And so far, he likes what he sees in Tommy’s gaze. He has to look away to avoid smiling.
“But?”
“You could say he reminded me of someone.”
Tommy bites his lip, looks like he’s fighting against an even bigger smile. “And that’s why you wanted to fuck him?” Meeting Tommy’s eyes again, Spencer can see amazement in them. And just like that, he knows what Tommy wants to hear. But he can do even better than that:
“Well, no, it’s why I wanted him to fuck me.”
Tommy actually gasps at that, it takes him a moment before he eventually says “Jesus, Spence.”
“Well, we went over that already, didn’t we?”
But Tommy’s not listening, he’s preparing to say something. “If you- if you wanted to have sex with me, you could have asked.”
Spencer shrugs. “It’s not that simple. But yeah, guess I could have. Not that it matters now.”
For the first time today, Tommy seems genuinely confused at something Spencer said. He’s been shocked, surprised, sympathetic before, but now he looks like he doesn’t understand what Spencer means. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“Because of the whole HIV thing?” Spencer can’t help that he sounds a little pissed off. It’s just – it hurts enough, he doesn’t need Tommy to rub it in by playing dumb.
“That-” Tommy sighs, makes a face, continues, “Look, that doesn’t change anything, for me? I, I would have fucked you before, and we can be safe about it now.”
Spencer is silent, and so Tommy continues. “I mean, not now as in today, you don’t really seem like you’re in the right headspace. But uhm, at some point, in the future. I would, I would be available. For you.”
“Why?” Spencer asks. Why make this offer? He would have understood, before this, the appeal of being someone’s first, the fantasy of the not-so-straight best friend. But now, he’s already gone and got himself fucked by a poor substitute for Tommy, and he wasn’t even safe about it. Now, he feels like he’s damaged goods. Danger can be fun, or even sexy, but not this kind of danger. And sure, there’s research and progress and ways to be safe, but he doesn’t want any of this. He doesn’t want to have this constant reminder of his mistake, the stigma around it. He doesn’t mind it applied to him; he minds how it would affect Tommy’s life.
Tommy briefly looks like he just bit into a lemon, before his expression shifts back into something soft and open. “Spence, you gotta know I’m a little in love with you.”
“Just a little?”
“No, a lot, probably. But you were- I thought you were straight, so I tried my best not to think about it.” Now Tommy’s the one not looking at him, and Spencer can’t have that. He’s never been more scared and excited for something in his whole life. This is all that he wanted, and now that it’s here – he doesn’t know if he can do it. If he can even kiss Tommy without freaking out, because even if he knows it’s safe it doesn’t feel like it.
“Look, okay,” he starts, and Tommy closes his eyes, as if he’s afraid of rejection. Which Spencer thinks is ridiculous, until he remembers he isn’t sure what this will be yet, either. “I want you. Not just- I don’t just think you’re attractive, I want everything. A week ago, that would have been it. But I don’t know, I don’t know if I can do this, now.” Embarrassingly enough, he feels himself get teary-eyed. He pulls himself together and continues.
“It’s just, I feel so wrong? Like I’m marked in some way, and being with me would mark you too. Even thinking about kissing you right now- it doesn’t feel very great.”
Once again, Tommy pulls Spencer into a side hug, and they sit like that, together. “You know that’s not true, right?” He mumbles into Spencer’s hair. He nods. Yes, he knows. That doesn’t really change how he feels, is the thing.
“I can wait,” Tommy says, “for you to feel ready. And I will remind you every step of the way, that you’re lovely, and I want whatever you want to give me. And then we take it slow, and I get on PrEP, or we just don’t have sex. We can figure it out, yeah?”
Spencer can’t help but smile, and he’s fully crying now. “Yeah, I think I want that.”
# # # # #
The rest of the night is uneventful. They watch a movie, cuddle, hug at the door when Tommy leaves. Spencer is grateful for it. He’s pined long enough, he can do it a little longer, until he’s in a better headspace. He thinks Tommy might feel the same way.
The next Monday, he talks to Ian about his diagnosis. This isn’t actually Ian’s business, but he thinks Ian is the easiest person to tell. He’s concerned of course, but understands when to let things rest. Spencer reassures him that he is talking to his doctor, that everything will be okay. Ian asks if he’s told a friend, and Spencer nods. That seems to be all Ian needed to be reassured, promising to forward this information to all relevant parties. Or however it works. Spencer doesn’t care. He thanks Ian and leaves.
Brad has read the message, but hasn't responded. Spencer archives the chat, so he doesn't have to look at it. Maybe Brad doesn't believe him, maybe he did know. Maybe he just doesn't want to talk to Spencer. Either way, Brad's fate is out of his hands.
On Wednesday, he asks to come over to Court and Shayne’s place. They’re happy to have him, and he gets to tell them while they play Mario Kart. He wins the round by distracting them with his baggage, and then gloats about it to save the mood. They let it happen, but after he leaves he receives a text from both of them, independently. He thinks they knew he needed it but didn’t want to actually talk about it. What was it, to be loved is to be seen?
Still feeling warm and fuzzy from the night before, Spencer waits in front of his apartment building for Kiana. Once he’s in her car, the words come spilling out. He tells her the full story, the parts he hasn’t told anyone else, and she listens as she drives, music turned low but not off. He talks about his feelings for Tommy, the confusion and fear. How he downloaded Grindr to see if he was also into other guys, but only liked guys that reminded him of Tommy. He gives details about the sex, and Kiana doesn’t even complain about ‘TMI’. The diagnosis, the way he spent a weekend only walking from his bed to his kitchen and back, reading article over article and binging TV-Shows when it got too much. He even mentions the hour-long shower on Monday morning, when he felt like he couldn’t get clean enough to show up to work. She was there for the cut into the finger, remembers that. He talks about the bathroom, about telling Tommy, inviting him over. And Kiana listens to all of it, and when he’s done they’re parked at the office parking lot.
“It’s good that you’re taking your time,” is all Kiana says. He wouldn’t have thought this to be the most important takeaway, but once he thinks about it, it kind of is. “Should I give Tommy a shovel talk?”
“I don’t think he needs one.” Spencer laughs
“I’ll do it anyway. I kinda want to scare him.”
“Don’t scare him too bad, he might think I’m not worth the trouble.”
“He knows you are, he’s not blind.”
On Friday, Kiana asks to speak to Tommy at lunch. He comes back five minutes later, and gives Spencer a shy smile. So she’s made good on her promise, and Tommy’s not afraid to look at him yet. That’s good. He wonders if someone will give him a talk, too. Tommy deserves a friend that will look out for him like that.
Later, he asks Tommy to drive him home. Tommy’s got a thing that Spencer could tag along to but really doesn’t want to. Which means this is all the time Tommy has for him today. He’s already invited over for Saturday, though. Once Tommy’s gotten over the likely hangover.
In the car, they talk like they would have before, and Spencer thinks about putting his hand on Tommy’s over the gearshift. It would be a sweet gesture, but it’s too uncomfortably hot despite the AC, so he doesn’t. Tommy stops the car somewhere he’s not allowed to, so Spencer should get out quickly, but he’s overwhelmed with the need to do something.
He looks at Tommy, who seems to go in for a hug. Hugging in a car is awkward, so Spencer does the reasonable thing: He takes Tommy by the biceps (so that he’ll keep his arms down. And because he really wants to grab them) and gives him a quick peck on the lips.
He can feel Tommy smile behind him as he turns around to get out of the car. “Bye,” he says, not looking, and closes the door. Then, because he can’t help it, he watches as Tommy starts the car and drives away, grinning like an idiot (Tommy, not him. Or probably both of them.)