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The last thing Ray needed was to fall for Spencer Smith. It was too ironic, in a band of guys that were either very liberal with their affections towards other men (but not officially gay, because Brian was not allowing them to alienate the homophobes, no matter how much Gerard and Frank really really wanted to). What was the point again? Oh right, too ironic, that Ray, out of all the guys, would actually turn out to be the one considering asking a guy on a date without being fueled by drugs, alcohol, or social activism.
Besides, Ray was straight. Very straight. Never had a moment of doubt about that (the thing once with Gerard didn't count because Gerard could make anyone gay for him) in all his twenty-five years.
This Smith problem stemmed from the kid looking like a girl. Ray had seen him around the festival grounds, carrying gear, eating, playing (watching) basketball and table tennis, and generally under the wing of Patrick and the guys from Fall Out Boy. Whenever he had seen the kid had been in tight jeans with fancy stitching on the back pockets, tight t-shirts with fancy (girly) prints on them, and this white hoodie with some gold print and funny kind of bunched stitching at the shoulders (what do you want form him, Ray's straight, remember, he doesn't know what the term for that girly sort of stitching is – Gee would – all he knows it that he's seen the same kind of thing on girls' t-shirts and blouses). And Smith had that hair that was longish and that he let hang in his eyes, but swept aside with delicate fingers like a girl would.
In short, Ray could be completely forgive for mistaking Smith for a girl at long distance, and twice close up (getting a coke, and asking Patrick where Mikey might be hiding with Pete). Obviously Ray was fooled by mistaken identity into becoming attracted to the kid.
Before he figured it out, he saw Smith play. Oh god, did he see him play. Ray played a little drums, but nothing like that. And Bob, Bob was an inspiration to see playing, even in the bus studio where there was hardly enough room to breath, let alone get enthusiastic, Bob could make Ray watch closely. Smith, on the other hand, was this small, wild haired, sweaty, tight t-shirted fucking… there wasn't even a word for it. And remember, Ray still thought the Smith kid was a girl. So, a girl banging away on her kit, swinging her arms with energy and style, flicking her hair out of her face, hanging her mouth open just a bit, and tilting her head back to expose her throat…
Ray got very fucking hard watching Smith play the first time.
And the second. And third.
It was the day after the third time Ray had stood side-stage to watch Panic! and Smith play, that he had come out of the bus to find some food that he didn't have to microwave, that he ran into Smith, just Smith, and finally spoke to him.
He was carrying gear. And dropping it. Ray went to help him out. He was not looking to hit on Smith, because even if the kid was hot as hell, Ray knew she – he – that the kid was under aged. Ray was not going to go there, no matter how many hot dreams he'd had in the last couple of weeks about the kid's hips.
"You need a hand?" Ray asked, smiling as polite as you please. Not hitting on the Smith kid.
"Oh, yeah, thanks," Smith said, blinking at Ray.
"Sure." He picked up the gear that Smith had dropped and started following him towards the trailers. "I've seen you play, you're pretty tight."
That was definitely a blush, and Ray was stupidly pleased with himself. "Thanks, that's – thanks a lot." And Smith smiled, wide and bright and fucking fantastic.
Smith set his armload down next to a trailer, and Ray did the same. He stuck out his hand. "Ray Toro." Of cause Smith knew who he was, but they hadn't been officially introduced, so it was polite. Ray was a polite guy.
"Spencer Smith. Great to meet you, man."
Ray smiled back at Spencer's smile. And then. Oh. Oh fuck. Smith's first name was Spencer. Smith was not a girl. Smith was a very girly looking boy. Oh shit.
"You- you too. I've gotta go get…"
Running away like an asshole was the only thing to do at the time, Ray had reasoned.
*
Karma caught up with him far too quickly. That night, after the last sets had been played, and before they left to get to wherever the next venue of the tour was, a bunch of guys came to hang out on the My Chem bus.
Their bus had become the sober haven for the fest, what with Gerard not drinking, Ray hanging out there most of the time writing and recording demos, and Mikey having Pete there a lot, messing about (and all of them not drinking in support of Gerard not drinking). So usually guys came over who didn't feel like getting drunk or hanging out with the others while they got drunk. The same day Ray had realised his mistake about Spencer Smith, Pete and Mikey showed up to hang out, with Patrick, Andy, and Spencer in tow.
A couple of hours in close proximity with Spencer Smith, skilled boy drummer, and Ray wanted to hide in the studio with his headphones and Garageband and write some really frustrated music.
Apparently the discovery that Smith was not in fact a girl hadn't changed the fact that Ray was really fucking attracted to the kid, in a "throw him over a table and make him sweaty" kind of way.
*
A few nights later Ray was taking a break from the sobriety and had followed Bob and Frank to the party going on at one of the other buses (there were about five parties going on at any one time at various buses, so Ray didn't bother to figure out where), and there was Spencer, hanging out with Andy and Beckett and some guys Ray didn't know.
Ray was unspeakably grateful when Frank handed him a beer.
*
Spencer started it. Ray was happy - okay not happy, but sufficiently not unhappy - with keeping his thoughts of Spencer's throat and arms and tight little girl jeans to himself. There was no reason why anyone needed to know about it, especially not the part where Ray had thought Panic! had a very cool hot girl for their drummer. Gerard and Frank didn't need the ammunition against him (or to be encouraged on their crusade to show the world that "Gay is Okay!"), Mikey did not need the joke to share with Pete - oh god, let's not talk about Pete fucking Wentz finding out. Spencer. Well, Spencer did not need to know at all ever, end of story.
Except that Spencer started it by kissing him that night after Ray had had too many beers (enough to do stupid things, not enough to do Gerard-like things). Possibly Ray would have started it a few minutes later had Spencer not made the first move, but he didn't, that wasn't his fault, he was completely fine with blaming the kid for that.
For some reason Spencer stopped the kissing first, too. Ray wasn't ready to stop, he was quiet obviously ready to go - go back to the bus, back to his bunk, and go very much as far as Spencer let him. But Spencer just smiled, said he needed to get back, and strolled off into the crowd before Ray could stop him.
*
"So," Bob said in that way that meant "are you going to spill, or do I have to beat it out of you?"
Ray wasn't usually a sucker for punishment. "So I guess people saw me making out with Smith last night?" he said into his folded arms, where his head was pillowed to avoid Bob's eyes.
"Not so many." Bob wasn't a bastard unless it involved photography or invasion of his bunk space. "Enough. Me and Andy."
"Shit. I thought he was a girl." Even in his slightly hung-over state Ray knew this wasn't the right thing to say just then. Or ever. There had been promises to himself of secrets going with him to the grave. What the hell was wrong with him? He peeked at Bob's face.
He looked confused. "Last night? How much did you drink dude?"
In for a dime, in for a dollar. "No. In general. Before. Since the start of tour." Ray might try whole sentences soon. "He wears those clothes, you know, and I'd only seen him in passing, until I really met him the other week and figured it out."
"So you knew he wasn't a girl last night?"
"Yes." It was more a moan than a word.
"Who did Ray think was a girl?" Frank asked, and oh fuck was Ray in for a fucking awful day.
*
The jokes did not bear repeating. Ray had to tickle Gerard into submission, and hold Frank in a headlock for a good half an hour before he was happy that they would not say a word to anyone outside of their busload of freaks, and maybe Patrick, but absolutely not Pete, ever.
*
"Hi," Spencer said, bright but kind of hesitant.
"Hi."
"Have you been avoiding me?"
Yes. Yes Ray had definitely been avoiding anything Spencer shaped, wearing rainbow print t-shirts, or even closely related to Spencer (the Ross kid, Urie, and the quiet one, Ray forgot his name).
"No, not avoiding you. It's just busy, you know man."
Spencer's face was kind of blank, so Ray wasn't sure what he was thinking. He was kind of worried. "No, you have been avoiding me. I asked Mikey."
Oh shit. Fucking Mikey, that little fucker had sworn. "What did he say?"
Face turned away and arms crossed, hips jutting to one side, Spencer said "He said you don't usually... you know. That you're not usually into guys."
Thank fucking Christ. Mikey was a good man. Ray needed to buy him something special.
"Not usually, no."
The kid looked nervous, lips pursed as though he was maybe worrying the inside of his bottom lip. Finally he faced Ray, but his eyes still only focused on his hair, not making contact.
"Would you make an exception?"
Would he? His cock said "yes hi! Making an exception!" but really, a thing like heterosexuality couldn't just be disregarded after sticking pretty firmly for twenty-five years. Ray went with honesty, because he mostly couldn't help but be honest. "I don't know."
"Are you going to keep avoiding me?"
"No?"
"Can I try convincing you?"
"Maybe."
"Okay."
"Okay."
*
Ray kind of expected to be come onto really embarrassingly every time he left the bus. He wasn't. Instead, Spencer showed up on the bus in the company of Andy, then Patrick, and once even Frank and Mikey (which screamed "Meddling band mates!" Ray was just glad Frank wasn't making inappropriate and horrifying jokes about gender reassignment or cross-dressing).
They played video games and chatted and Spencer sat next to him on the couch, their thighs touching. Nothing more.
Maybe the kid was trying reverse psychology. Or maybe Ray was just really really fucked from the beginning. Either way, he was dreaming about hot kisses and sweaty throats and blowjobs all the time. Even if he wasn't asleep.
"So what's the fucking problem, man?" Gerard asked, sounding really confused.
"I'm straight?" Ray hated that it even sounded questioning to himself.
"Whatever," Frank scoffed, "no one's that straight."
Gerard scratched his cheek, still looking like this was a problem he was trying to understand before even starting to work it out. The cigarette he held between his fingers came dangerously close to singeing his hair. "But, you kissed him, right?"
"He kissed me."
"You kissed back," was Mikey's input from his position in the corner of the couch, vigorously texting someone.
"Yeah, you kissed back, and it wasn't bad, right? Not gross, didn't give you nightmares, cooties-"
"Cooties!" Frank sniggered.
"No. It was fine." Better than. Great. Hot as fuck.
"So, no more excuses. Go tap that tight young ass."
Gerard could be such a fucker sometimes.
*
It was becoming apparent that Spencer was waiting for Ray to decide if he could get over not usually being gay. Which, okay that was really nice of him, not pushing the issue (Frankie was pushing the issue. Frankie was being an annoying little fucktard about the issue). But that meant that Ray would have to make the next move. And he could make moves, he had an arsenal of moves that got him laid plenty well enough. But. Spencer was a guy.
Patrick made a strange face, may have muttered something about why the fuck did he have to have these conversations with everyone, and said "I'm pretty sure the moves are the same, or similar, for either gender." And then he fucked of, probably to find someone to talk to who wasn't having a gay dating dilemma.
Ray downed the rest of his beer. Joe wandered past and handed him another.
"Hey, dude, Spence's looking for you," he slurred a bit, and wandered off again, high as a kite.
Spencer found him a few minutes later.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"How's it going?" Spencer asked, and he probably wasn't talking about in general, because they had seen each other earlier.
"Good," Ray said, and decided that it was time to stop being a pussy and just do it already.
He turned to face Spencer, face away from the party. They were on the edge, like last time, just far enough away to be ignored, just close enough that someone might see. Ray wasn't bothered if someone did see. People could think what they liked, it was just Ray who had to figure out what he thought - felt - and deal with it. And now he had. Dealt with it.
Spencer watched him with an eyebrow raised, trying to look objectively interested, Ray thought, but he caught the hopeful sway towards him, the nervous smile.
"Hey," he said, smiling at Spencer, and brushed their lips together, cupped the back of his neck, and inhaled into the kiss.