Entry tags:

metamorphoses, panic! at the disco

P!atD: Back to Where You Are
Back to Where You Are
Pairing: Spencer/Jon, Ryan/Brendon (implied)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I disclaim!
Summary: People don't just turn into cats. Except when they do.
a/n: So this actually started out from a conversation that involved Jon turning into a werewolf. And then this happened. Written for little_whittles. Many many thanks to clumsygyrl and likealocket for the loooovely beta-work. And to clumsygyrl for the title. I appreciate your brilliance. All mistakes are mine, of course. :)



When he stays in Vegas, Jon bounces from home to home in order to not get on anybody’s nerves. This time around he starts at Brendon’s house and after a few days he goes to Spencer’s place.

“What are we doing tonight?” Jon asks the moment he sets his bags down in Spencer’s kitchen.

Spencer lazily fixes them a snack of Ritz crackers and some sort of spreadable cheese he found in the deli of the grocery store. “I don’t know what you are doing. But I am watching a marathon on the History channel.”

“Be careful Spence,” Jon says. He reaches out and takes a cracker from the pile Spencer had just set out, then breaks the Ritz while trying to scoop cheese onto it. “You might wear yourself out with this wild and crazy rock star life.”

“When are you going to Ryan’s?”

“Once you’ve submitted completely to me,” Jon says. He picks up his bag and walks past Spencer, heading to the guest room. “I’ll see you on the couch.”

---

In the morning Jon waits a reasonable amount of time before finding Spencer. They are wasting valuable time, which could be better spent doing something of great worth, like playing Guitar Hero or Donkey Congo or Frisbee golf in Spencer’s backyard.

He first checks the house but there’s no sign that Spencer is awake. So Jon goes to Spencer’s bedroom and cracks the door open. “Spence? You awake? Spencer? You alive? Spencer… there’s a shoe sale right now.”

When there is no answer, Jon begins to worry. He goes into the room and prepares to launch himself onto the bed, onto Spencer. He’d make up for it later with copious amounts of pancakes and the possibility of bribery.

The bed is, however, empty.

This is not entirely true, Jon finds as he approaches the bed.

A cat glares up at him from one of the pillows. “Um,” Jon says. He scratches his head and looks around. “Who are you?” The cat yawns and continues to glare at Jon. And in fact, the cat glares so long, Jon begins to wonder if perhaps this is the cat’s fallback expression.

“Do you know where Spencer is?” The cat yawns again and flicks its tail and Jon wonders if he fell into the twilight zone.

“Um,” Jon says. He looks around and scratches his head, then reaches his fingers out toward the cat.

It promptly scratches at him.

“Are you Spencer?”

The cat glares so long that Jon starts to laugh. “Oh my fuck you are!” And after a moment’s debate. “I gotta call Brendon!”

The cat’s tail stiffens at Brendon’s name and he stands, moving up to Jon and then stands on his hind legs, putting his front paws onto Jon’s t-shirt. “Hey,” Jon says. “That’s kinda cute you’re acting like a dog, and you’re not a d- Hey!”

It takes him two full minutes to pull the claws out of his shirt, but at least he didn’t break skin. “Fine.” He steps back. “But I’m calling Ryan. He should know what to do.”

The cat silently follows him into the other room and sits by his feet while Jon waits for Ryan to pick up. What’s he going to ask? What did Ryan do the last time Spencer turned into a cat?

“Sick of Spencer already?” Ryan asks when he answers.

“Dude,” Jon says. “You gotta get here. Like, now.”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s…” and Jon doesn’t even know what to say. “Everything’s. Um. Nobody’s hurt.” Spencer yowls at him and Jon raises his foot, like he’s going to step right on him. He would never; and the cat – Spencer – clearly knows this because he doesn’t even flinch. “Nobody’s hurt, but it’s about Spencer. You gotta.” He worries his lip a moment. “Ryan you gotta come over. Don’t tell Brendon.”

“Um,” Ryan says. Then “Okay.”

Jon hangs up and looks at Spencer, who looks back up at him. “He’s going to tell Brendon, you know.”

Spencer walks away, bushy tail up in the air.

“I can see your asshole, Asshole!”

---

He really is a beautiful cat. They sit together in the kitchen, Jon on one rarely-used kitchen chair and the cat on another. He’s one massive ball of fluff, but one from the paws, the line of the face, Jon thinks that he is actually lean; he is big with fur and not with muscle.

His face – the cat’s – is proud, but so many of them are, and lacking in that usual kitty curiosity that makes a kitten so desirable.

The coloring is subtle, like maybe if this cat was a short hair, he’d be more tiger-striped. As it is, the long fur is rotating shades of grey. Jon thinks that maybe he’s never seen a more beautiful cat.

Maybe not even Dylan.

He sighs and taps his fingers against the kitchen table, waiting impatiently for Ryan’s arrival. Jon convinces himself that Ryan will know what to do. He knows Spencer best, he must know.

---

The moment Brendon enters the house, the cat – Spencer – turns and flees from the room. As a human, Jon has never seen him move so fast. “You told Brendon,” he says, not hiding the accusation in his voice.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“This seemed like the kind of thing Brendon might be good with.”

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“What is it?”

“I took a guess.”

“But I told you not to.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“You said it’s about Spencer. You and me and Spencer can’t meet about Spencer without Brendon around. That’s kinda mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Brendon might, you know, cry or something.”

Brendon frowns and sits down at Spencer’s kitchen table, where Spencer had just been. Jon has a hard time thinking in terms of the cat is equal to Spencer. A should never ever equal B in this manner. “Where is he, anyway?” Brendon continues. He bounces his leg and Jon puts his hand to his forehead.

“You guys just missed him.”

“His car’s in the garage,” Brendon says. “Couldn’t have gone far if he just left.”

Jon says. “Oh he didn’t go far.” They stare up at him and Jon sighs. “And seriously. Don’t say a fucking word.” He pauses, and then adds for emphasis, “To anybody.”

He looks squarely at Brendon who stands back, his hands coming up defensively. “What’d I do?”

“Just…” and Jon sighs. “Keep your cool,” he says.

Brendon grumbles halfway to the back of the house, but The Moment must overtake even him because he grows quiet as they near Spencer’s bedroom. “You sure he’s okay?” Ryan whispers.

“I think he’s fine,” Jon whispers back.

He leads them into the bedroom and checks the bed first, and then the closet. And just when he’s ready to give up, he notes a spot of grey on a shelf. Jon turns once to look at Brendon and Ryan behind him and then turns on the light in the closet, illuminating the contents and revealing the cat, curled up on top of one of Spencer’s favorite pairs of shoes.

“That’s a cat,” Brendon says. The cat hisses. “That’s a mean cat.”

“Spencer got a cat?” Ryan asks. He looks at Jon puzzled but then does a double take. “Wait a second.” He licks his lips and looks at Brendon, who sticks his fingers out toward the cat, walking into the closet and toward him at the same time.

There’s a moment where maybe the overture will be accepted but then there’s a change, a paw moving out quickly and then Brendon’s holding his bleeding finger close to his chest. “That is a fucking mean cat,” he says. He tilts his head to the side, studying for a moment, looking into the grey kitty face and then he frowns. “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY FREAKING GOD!” And he turns to Jon with a jaw dropped. “People don’t just turn into cats, Jon!” There’s accusation in his voice, like maybe Jon is the reason that Spencer has turned into a cat.

Like Jon is a witch or something.

Ryan doesn’t say anything, but the quirky smile on his face leads Jon to believe that Ryan’s either writing a song in his head about this; or a novel.

“I think Spencer did, Brendon,” Jon says.

He looks at Ryan, and Ryan nods slowly. “My best friend is a cat,” he says.

“Our drummer is a cat,” Jon adds.

“Drummers need opposable thumbs,” Brendon reminds them.

---

Against his better judgment Jon leaves to go to the store and buy provisions for Spencer. He takes Spencer’s car and changes all the settings, imagining his face when Spencer gets in the next day and everything is adjusted.

When Jon returns he finds Ryan reading “Running With Scissors” on Spencer’s bed, laying face down with his feet in the air, shoes still on. Brendon is on the ground, ass in the air, the front half of his body attempting to squirm under the bed.

“Brendon…” Jon starts, but Ryan interrupts. “Guess.”

“Brendon, leave Spence alone.” He stands, arms covered with red scratches, some still glowing with blood pulled to the surface. “What the hell happened to you?”

Shrugging, Brendon looks nonplussed. “Spencer didn’t want to play.”

“Not to be confused with Spencer’s usual attitude toward playtime,” Ryan says. He shuts the book and looks at Jon expectantly. “You need anything else, man?”

Jon looks around and then shrugs. “Yeah do you have anything that turns boys who’ve turned into cats back into boys?” Ryan smirks, and from under the bed, there’s a distinct hiss. “No, I think I’ll be okay. Of the three of us, I’m probably best equipped to, uh, take care of this.”

Ryan tosses the book to the side and slides off of the bed, squeezing Brendon’s shoulder and pulling him out of the room in the process. “Lemme know if there’s any change?”

Walking them out, Jon nods. “I’m sure he’ll wake up in the morning back to normal.” He speaks with an assurance he doesn’t altogether feel. He’s not sure about anything really, at this point. Yesterday Spencer was a person. Today he’s a big ball of bitchy fur.

“What’s the precedent for this shit anyway?” Ryan asks. He looks concerned, and Jon frowns.

“I kinda like him this way,” Brendon says, holding the door open for Ryan.

“If you ever turn into a cat, I’m bringing you to the vet to get neutered first thing,” Ryan tells him. Blanching, Brendon follows him to the car.

---

Left alone with the cat, Jon goes back into the house. He does a quick search of the bedroom, and seeing no sign of Spencer, he puts out bowls of cat food (soft and hard) and water, then puts litter in the new litter box. Jon leaves the litter in the bathroom then settles on Spencer’s bed to watch TV and wait.

It takes three quarters of a Bears game for Spencer to come out from under the bed. He sniffs at Jon’s leg and then settles down beside him. “You have food in the kitchen,” Jon says, conversationally like Spencer might respond to him. “And litter in the bathroom.” He looks at Spencer and sees the cat looking back at him with unblinking eeriness.

The eyes are still Spencer’s.

“It’s cat food. That’s what’s good for your teeth and stomach. Don’t try to use the toilet. You might fall in.” Jon grins, finally seeing humor in the situation. “If you fall in, I’m taking a picture and sending it to Pete. He’ll believe anything if Ryan tells him.”

Spencer hisses at him once and then jumps off the bed.

---

Jon intercepts a phone call from Spencer’s mom and assures her that he’s unavailable but otherwise fine and will call her back the next day.

Ryan calls the next morning to see how Spencer is doing. “He refuses to eat,” Jon says. “And won’t use his litter box.”

“Should I be worried?” Ryan sounds like he already is, and Jon smiles.

“Naw. You know Spencer. He’s a stubborn ass.”

Pete calls too, and asks to speak to Spencer. “He’s, uh, unavailable,” Jon tells him, staring at Spencer who is now lying on the tile of the kitchen. Spencer is busy licking his paw and then cleaning his face. Jon had been staring at a frozen pizza cooking in the oven.

Spencer’s tail swishes back and forth over the floor. “Just put the phone on speaker,” Pete says.

Jon starts to argue, but he does it anyway; because it’s Pete and in the end Pete always gets his way. “Okay. Can you hear me?”

“MEOWWWWWWWWW” Pete yowls into the phone, doing a surprisingly decent impression of a cat being swung around by its tail. Spencer jerks to his feet, leaps onto the counter and then jumps from there onto Jon’s shoulders, digging his claws in.

“Ow! Ow! Fuck! Fuck!” Jon whirls around, reaching back in an attempt to get Spencer off of him. But Spencer isn’t budging. Jon ends the call – cutting off Pete’s obnoxious laughter – and Spencer relaxes.

“I told you,” Jon says.

Spencer slinks out of the room, but leaves his tail down this time.

---

The next morning, Jon walks in on Spencer bathing. He isn’t sure which would be more awkward: walking in on human-Spencer bathing, or walking in on cat-Spencer bathing.

As it is, the cat glares at him and then keeps licking his paws. “Use your damn litter box,” Jon says before going into the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. “And eat your damn food!” He yells when he sees that the bowls are no less full than they were when he set them out. “Dammit Spencer!” He stalks back down the hall, stopping in front of Spencer, who quits licking but doesn’t run. Jon frowns at Spencer, and brings his voice down to a low near-growl, his angry-voice. “Dammit Spencer! A hunger strike is not going to bring you back. Will you fucking get over yourself and just take care of yourself? I can’t do it for you! I can’t…” he throws his arms into the air and then goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He needs a cold shower.

But when Jon comes out of the shower, Spencer is laying in the middle of the kitchen. His food dish is empty.

---

After two days of staying at Spencer’s, Jon starts to think maybe he’s living there. Ryan calls every morning to find out if Spencer is back to normal yet. Spencer’s mom calls every evening and Jon’s beginning to feel guilty about lying to her.

He also starts sleeping in Spencer’s bed. When he got in the first night, Spencer clawed at his arm, so Jon held him under the blankets until Spencer yowled. They’ve shared the bed well ever since – Jon in the bed and Spencer at the foot – and Jon thinks that Spencer might even be coming closer to him at night.

On Day Three Brendon brings over a book of cat breeds. He pores over the book in a way that makes Jon think that he never studied for a test this hard, and then finally holds the book up with a triumphant shout of “Maine Coon!”

“What?”

He had made a second trip to the pet store in order to pick up some more cat food and also to buy Spencer a toy, in case he really was as bored as he looked, and it isn’t just a default expression for him.

(It is.)

At the store, on a whim, Jon had grabbed a book of pet recipes, and while Brendon sits at the kitchen table sipping coffee (decaf) and reading about cat breeds, Jon attempts to mix Spencer something new to eat that will taste better than whatever came in the can.

“He’s a Maine Coon,” Brendon says. “And not just a big-ass fluffy cat.”

Jon brings the mixing bowl over to the table and sits across from Brendon, stirring up the mixture. “I’m sure that’s a very important differentiation.”

“I’m sure Spence will appreciate it,” Brendon says. “Where is he anyway? And what is that? Are you trying to kill me?”

Frowning, Jon peers into the bowl. “It’s Spence’s dinner,” he says. “It’s supposed to be um, like a cat meatloaf.”

“Spencer’s not a cannibal,” Brendon says, frowning. He pushes the open book forward, toward Jon. “Do us all a favor and stick with the canned shit. If you kill Spence, Ryan’ll kill you on principle, and I’ll have to kill you because we’ll need to find a new drummer. They don’t just grow on trees, you know.”

Spencer takes this moment to leap from the ground onto the table. He flicks his tail once in Brendon’s direction and then goes to Jon. He sticks his face into the bowl and takes a nibble, then another from it before turning and lying down on the table, his fur spread out like he owned the piece of furniture.

Which, well.

Jon grins proudly at Brendon, who brings his coffee to the sink and pours it out. “You can’t make coffee worth crap either,” he says. “Call yourself a fucking barista.” He turns to Spencer still spread out on the table. “And don’t even think about licking up that shit.” Spencer flicks his tail but does nothing. “You know what he needs?” Brendon asks, turning toward Jon.

“Um.” Maybe, Jon thinks, this is a trick question. He goes for the obvious answer: “To turn back into a human so he can join our band again.” And as an after thought, “Drummers don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“He needs a collar,” Brendon says.

Spencer hisses.

“He’s fine,” Jon says. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” He looks at Spencer with a grin and reaches out, rubbing the cat’s belly without really thinking about what he’s doing.

Brendon quirks an eyebrow up at them. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Jon looks at Spencer who definitely turns his head to look at him. “Um,” Jon says. Spencer rolls onto his back, paws up, looking pleased – something to which Jon is completely unaccustomed. “He’s not going anywhere,” Jon says, smiling fondly at the purring cat under his fingers. This is the first time as a cat that Spencer has let Jon touch him this much, and Spencer is not the only one of them enjoying it. Jon smiles at Brendon, now the triumphant one.

Looking completely disgusted, Brendon leaves.

---

On Day Five, Brendon comes back over with Ryan, looking far more pleased than he had the last time he had been over. “How is he?” He asks, as soon as they’re inside.

“The usual,” Jon says. “But,” and he leans in conspiratorially, glancing around once to ensure that Spencer is nowhere to be found. “He’s really starting to act like a cat now. It’s great.”

Ryan stares at him with hard, unblinking eyes. “Jon,” he says. But he doesn’t say anything else. Jon waits, not at all feeling the need to push Ryan to speak. He always says what he wants, in time. But Brendon clears his throat. “Jon,” Ryan says again. “HE’S NOT A FUCKING CAT!!”

Jon takes a step back and there’s a bang from the other room. Brendon jumps at the noise and Jon shakes his head. “It’s just the cat,” he says. And then apologetically, “Spencer.” He licks his lips and turns toward the other room, where Spencer had been sunning himself near a window. “What do you want me to do, Ry? Starve him? Mistreat him? Shun him? He’s a fucking cat! I know! But what… what the hell?”

“Did you ever think,” Brendon starts. “That maybe we should be trying to think about why he’s a cat?”

“I hope you don’t think that at the same time that some cat was wishing it could be Spencer, he was wishing he could be a cat,” Ryan says dryly.

“If I was gonna be an animal,” Brendon says, putting his hands out. “I’d want to be Jon’s cat.”

Jon shakes his head. “I’d take you to get neutered too,” he says. Brendon scowls at him. “You were pretty excited about it too, you know,” Jon says. “You were going to buy him a fucking collar.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, but Brendon cuts him off.

“Oh I did,” he says, sticking his hand into his hoodie pocket. The collar is hot pink and it has rhinestones circling it. And a bell. “Isn’t it awesome?”

It’s ridiculous, is what it is, Jon thinks. “I think he’s going to claw your face off, if you try to put that on him.”

“Some things,” Brendon says, moving past Jon, “Are worth being injured for.” He goes into the other room, calling out, “Spence! C’mere! I’ve got something for you!”

There’s another crash, and the sound of Brendon shouting, and then Brendon’s foot steps moving further into the house. Jon puts his hand to his forehead, and Ryan sighs. “I know,” Jon says.

“What?”

“I know we need to find out a way to get him back.” He looks at Ryan, who’s frowning at him. “I just. Ryan. What do we do with this?”

Ryan looks helpless, and it’s been such a long time since Jon has seen Ryan look so without something to grasp.

He takes a step back, thinking about what Ryan must be going through. Jon couldn’t imagine if Tom woke up as a cat; woke up as any animal really. Sure he and Spencer had a strong relationship, but he had seen the photo albums, had heard the stories. Ryan and Spencer are brothers and they had been through things together. They are those annoying guys who can have entire conversations by just looking at each other. And now Ryan’s platonic other half is a cat.

“Do you want to, I mean,” Jon starts. He swallows. “Do you wanna switch and you’ll take care of him?” He gestures with a thumb toward the back of the house and his stomach falls because he doesn’t want to give all this up.

---

The past two days Jon has had a great time hanging out with Spencer.

They watch TV together, Spencer curled up against Jon’s thigh and Jon’s fingers nestled into the fur, scratching gently at the soft belly hidden beneath the fluff. Spencer has taken to purring, and the sound is comforting as Jon watches reruns on Bravo.

“We should get the Queer Eye guys to come over and fix up Ryan,” Jon says once they’re settled in for the evening.

Brendon won the battle of the collar, but only after Ryan – hesitantly – held Spencer on his lap so that Jon could put it on him. “In case somebody wants to steal you,” Jon had told him. So Spencer held still just long enough to clasp it on his neck, and then he leapt off of Ryan’s lap, hissed at Brendon, and hid under the bed until they left.

“I mean,” Jon says. “His house looks awesome but the dude can’t cook and he seriously needs to do something about this whole gay cowboy look he’s got going on.” Spencer claws at Jon’s hand and Jon yelps, trying to pull away from him.


“Stop it,” he says, but Spencer actually uses his claws to bring Jon’s hand to his mouth and bites down on his fingers. “Jesus! I’m sorry! Fuck! Ryan’s got fine style! Fuck!”

Reluctantly, Spencer lets go and stands up, glaring at Jon. “Come on dude, don’t be like that.” He looks at Spencer with wide eyes, but Spencer puts his tail up and stalks out. “Come on! Where are you going?”

He gets up, following Spencer, but he stops in the doorway of the bathroom as Spencer glares at him from the litter box. “Fuck,” Jon says again. He steps out, almost closing the door before he remembers that Spencer won’t be able to let himself out, and then he goes back into the other room to watch TV.

After an hour, when Spencer doesn’t join him, Jon shuts it off and goes into the bedroom. Spencer is already feigning sleep on the foot of the bed, and he doesn’t move when Jon climbs in and shuts off the light.

But some time in the night, he moves up to Jon; and he sleeps on Jon’s face.

Jon itches for two days afterward.

---

Brendon brings over catnip for Spencer one morning while Jon is out getting more cat food and groceries for himself.

He doesn’t leave a note; he just gives Spencer a toy filled with the flakey shit, takes a can of coke from the fridge and leaves.

When Jon comes home, Spencer is at the top of a bookcase. “Spencer?” Jon asks, looking up at him.

There’s a quick meow and a mass of grey fur and claws are coming at Jon; but he only alights for a second on Jon’s shoulder before he’s jumping down onto the ground and racing out of the room.

“What’s wrong dude?” Jon asks, running after Spencer. Groceries are forgotten.

Spencer claws madly at the tile a moment and then looks at Jon before running into another room. He jumps onto the sofa and then jumps off; onto a chair and then off. He races around Jon’s ankles and then into the kitchen and then back again, once more hurtling himself at Jon before attempting to bury himself under the couch.

Annoyed, Jon takes his cell phone out of his pocket and calls Brendon. “Heeeeey…” Brendon answers.

“You drugged Spencer,” Jon accuses.

“I did no such thing!”

Jon pinches the bridge of his nose in his fingers. “But you gave him catnip?” he asks.

“I did!” Brendon’s voice is defensive, as it should be, Jon thinks.

“How much did you give him?” He asks.

There’s a moment when Brendon is quiet, thinking. And then he says, “I don’t know. The package.”

“If he kills himself,” Jon says. “I’m not saving you from Ryan.”

Jon hangs up the phone, puts the groceries away and then sits on the sofa, watching Spencer work off the near-OD that Brendon sent him into.

They both sleep well that night.

---

Things fall into a groove. Ryan still calls every morning but usually he just gives a weather report to Jon, or asks him about what he’s doing that day. Sometimes they make plans to hang out at Spencer’s. Jon is glad to have Ryan and Brendon around, coming by to see him; he feels guilty leaving Spencer at the house too often, or for too long.

Sometimes he has conversations with Spencer. Like with a patient in a coma, Jon is convinced that Spencer knows what he’s saying. “It’s not like in that movie,” Jon tells Spencer one night. And he’s not drinking alone either if Spencer’s with him, even if Spencer isn’t actually imbibing with him.

At least, not in the usual fashion. He pours just a little bit of beer into a bowl and leaves it on the coffee table so Spencer can lick from it. “I don’t know if that’s good for you, but I’m not trying to kill you. I want you to know that.” Spencer’s whiskers bounce and Jon smiles lazily at the cat. “We have to record a new album,” Jon says. “Ryan and Brendon are busy busy busy writing it for us. They’re writing you awesome drum parts because, you know...” He hasn’t heard them yet, but he can imagine them doing that – writing awesome parts for their friend who can’t hold sticks at the moment. “You just need to come back to us, Spencer Smith.”

He sighs.

“Spencer James Smith the fifth.”

He meows in response and moves from the table onto Jon’s lap, curling up there. “You’re a lot easier to talk to when you’re not looking at me like I’m a refugee from the planet Dumbass.” Jon rests his fingers into Spencer’s fur and starts scratching him slowly, light touches behind his ears.

Spencer purrs in response.

“We’ll have to figure something out eventually I guess, I mean, we can’t like, you know, whatever, forever.” He sighs and closes his eyes, resting his head against the couch. “It’d be cool if you were back to normal. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life with you looking at me like I’m some sort of flake half the time.”

Jon murmurs other things that make very little sense in his head and absolutely none as they fall from his lips; but he remembers nothing once he’s asleep.

---

Jon wakes early in the morning, when the sky is still thinking about changing colors, but hasn’t committed itself to anything yet. For a few seconds Jon thinks that maybe they had their revelation; like in the movies how things are weird until someone realizes something and then suddenly nothing’s weird anymore. And everything is back to normal, except that nothing is the same because someone has gone through some Huge Change.

The credits can roll and the adventure is over; the page turned in favor of another, better adventure.

But then he opens his eyes and Spencer is asleep on his lap. Jon sighs and closes his eyes, but now he’s too uncomfortable, he’s not drunk enough; there’s no way he can sleep there again.

Before Jon stands, he slides his hands under Spencer’s warm body and lifts him carefully. Spencer mews softly, even scratches at Jon a little, but it’s only half-hearted, maybe even stopped in the middle. Jon sets Spencer onto the bed first and then climbs over him, sliding in and curling up immediately, one arm under his pillow and then the other wrapped around the cat, already falling back to sleep.

“Night Spencer kitty,” Jon murmurs. “Tomorrow we’re changing you back.”

---

Jon drives to Ryan’s house before the usual morning phone call. He leaves Spencer lapping at water from his dish, and he leaves the television set to the History channel so Spencer won’t get bored.

“Hey,” Ryan says at the door. He appears groggy but only mildly out of sorts. “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t step away, not yet; but he’s already blinking himself awake, visually preparing himself to leave quickly, to go to Spencer if needed.

“I know what we have to do,” Jon says. “I know how to fix him.”

“Um,” Ryan says. He looks around and then steps back, opening the door wider. “Do you want some coffee dude?” He asks it like he thinks that the answer is a resounding yes, like he thinks that maybe Jon is crazy. Maybe Jon is crazy, but he’s spent the past two weeks living with a cat who at one point was a man and his friend. Jon agrees to coffee and follows Ryan into the kitchen.

Distractedly, Ryan moves around the kitchen, getting the beans, the grinder. “I’ll just,” he says, knocking over the bag and Jon moves forward, nudging Ryan out of the way.

“Allow the professional,” he says. Ryan smiles and steps back, leaning against a far counter as Jon goes through the routine task of grinding beans, then measuring out the grinds and getting the drip started.

When the coffee is percolating, the scent already warming the kitchen, they look at each other. “What’d you figure out?”

“Are you in love with Spencer?”

Ryan would take a step back if he could; if he wasn’t already backed against the counter. “Um,” he says, blinking into his confusion. “No.”

Only he doesn’t sound confused at all. Or at least, he sounds sure of his answer, just really thrown by the question. “He’s my best friend but I mean.” Ryan wrinkles his nose. “Dude I couldn’t. I mean.” He blanches. “No.”

Jon sighs, pushes his hand through his hair. “It must be Brendon,” Jon says. He fists his hand and nods at Ryan. “I gotta go to Brendon’s.”

And he’s already moving toward the door, Ryan following on his heels. “Jon,” he says, and when Jon turns to look at him, Ryan purses his lips. “Don’t you want your coffee? It might clear your head?”

“I’ll get some later,” Jon says, waving off the idea. “As soon as I can get Brendon to admit it, I bet Spencer can turn back.” He nods at Ryan, trying to convince him, maybe. “Come on. Maybe the two of us together will be able to do it.”

“The coffee,” Ryan says, but already he’s turning to leave the kitchen.

“Fuck the coffee,” Jon says. “Spence.”

“Get the car started,” Ryan calls from another room. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

Brendon actually laughs at Jon. “Are you serious?” he asks.

This isn’t a denial, Jon thinks, and victory is his. “It makes perfect sense,” Jon explains. “This is what it always is.”

“I’m in love with Spencer,” Brendon says, not at all convincingly. “And once I can admit this to myself, or to the world or to him or whatever, he’ll be able to be a real boy again?”

“You say that like he’s Pinnochio,” Ryan says. He’s smirking at Jon, his hat low over his forehead but not at all hiding the bemused expression he wears.

“Speaking of lying…” Brendon says, looking at Ryan. Ryan smirks back at him and Jon stamps his foot. So they both snort in derisive laughter.

Jon stamps his foot again. “Guys!” They clear their throats, getting into serious mode again. “Come on, if we can just do this, we can have him back.”

“Yeah okay,” Ryan says. He looks at Brendon. “You wanna admit you’re in love with him, or should I?”

Brendon shrugs and then he sighs, looking Jon in the eye. “Okay Jon. I am in love with Spence.” Jon grins at him. “Now let’s go back and see if he’s turned into a real boy.”

“He has,” Jon says emphatically. He turns and goes back to the car. Brendon and Ryan don’t follow right away; not until Jon shouts at them, to hurry the fuck up, that he’s probably waiting for all of them at home.

Jon has Spencer’s car.

---

While Jon was gone, Spencer’s mom came by. There’s a note she left, directed to Spencer:

S-
Worried about you. Please call. Beautiful cat, bad attitude. Give Jon my love.

Mom

“Aw,” Brendon says, picking up the note. He puts it on the fridge, held on by a magnet advertising a local Chinese delivery place. “Look his mom’s been here.” He turns to Jon. “Don’t you think if Spence had turned back into a human, he’d have been able to talk to her?”

Already, the color is draining from Jon’s face. “Maybe she came by before you said it,” he says. “I went to Ryan’s before I went to your place. Or I could have just missed her, just now.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says; his voice quiet. “You could just be completely missing something.”

Jon pushes past them, moving to the back of the house. “Maybe it happened afterward, and he wanted to take a shower and now he’s just…” but he stops, because a big grey ball of fluffy Spencer is lying on the bed, curled up on the pillow that Jon uses to sleep. “Oh,” he says. Spencer flicks his tail and yawns. “Did you see your mom?”

Another flick of his tail is the only response Spencer gives and Jon sighs, smiling at him a little. “The guys are here,” he says. He puts his hand on the door frame. “I’m gonna um, take them home. Maybe some coffee.” He taps his fist against the wood once and then waves at the cat before going back into the kitchen.

“Maybe Spencer needs to realize he’s in love with someone,” Ryan suggests empathetically when Jon walks them back out onto the driveway.

“Or he needs to realize that his face will get frozen in bitch-look if he keeps using it,” Brendon offers after Jon unlocks the car doors for them.

“Let’s get some coffee,” Jon says.

---

Back at home – at Spencer’s – Jon turns the TV back onto the History channel and then starts cleaning his camera. He’s disappointed on a number of levels and needs something to distract him. But of course this doesn’t work.

He really had thought that he was right with this whole thing; but maybe Brendon and Ryan had been more right. Maybe there is something that Spencer needs to realize. But what do cats think?

Do cats think? If Spencer needs to come to some sort of sparklingly clear revelation, wouldn’t it be better if he is the one struggling with something? Not that Jon thinks that being a cat isn’t a struggle, but of the two of them, he is certainly the one more put out with this whole transformation, and not Spencer.

Other than the whole being a cat thing.

“Maybe there’s someone else,” Jon muses. He brings the camera up to his eye and lines Spencer up, resting on the table, so that the current program – something about Vikings – is in the background. He snaps a photo, and then another, and then gets up, moving closer to him.

“Who is supposed to realize something?” He asks himself, or Spencer.

Spencer recognizes that Jon is taking a photo but he only rolls a little, revealing some tummy for Jon. Dylan never relaxes while Jon has his camera out. With Dylan, it’s more about a game; if Jon can sneak up on his cat, he can have a photo for the Christmas cards.

Dylan, who’s waiting for Jon at Jon’s mom’s house; and Jon barely even thinks to ask about his own cat whenever he calls home. He’s too focused on this cat, on Spencer; but that’s okay because this cat is – technically – a person.

“What are you supposed to know?” Spencer meows at him and jumps off the table.

---

Jon convinces Spencer’s mom that he’s just really busy recording with Ryan, and once he mentions Ryan, she buys the story and asks that Spencer call him sometime before the year ends. “Of course he will,” Jon says.

His stomach turns at the idea that Spencer could still be a cat by the time they’re ringing in the New Year.

What if Spencer never turns back into a person, and he’s just a cat forever? Jon’s throat tightens, thinking about the average age for a cat. If Spencer is 20 years old, does that make him a 20 year old cat, or a 20 in people-to-cat years?

He shakes his head and calls Spencer to him, and is instantly rewarded with the jangling of Spencer’s bell as he trots out of whatever hiding spot he had most recently found.

Jon settles on the sofa, ignoring the familiarity of the seat, the fact that he sits on the same cushion every day, and Spencer jumps onto his lap and settles down, eyes already closing. “How old are you?” Jon asks. “If we took you to a vet, what would he say?” He squeezes Spencer’s tummy, just a little, and then runs his hand back over the soft fur, the warm, pliant skin there.

“I kinda miss you being able to talk back,” Jon muses after a while. “I mean, I guess your bitch look isn’t so bad, and you’re always giving it to Brendon, and you like him. But I mean, well, not like that, of course. And you even give it to Ryan a lot, so really it’s just you being you I guess.” And though he feels the pinch of Spencer’s claws, it isn’t so hard that it hurts him… much.

Jon sighs. “But it would suck if you stayed like this forever, so could you please work on figuring out whatever it is you have to figure out to change back? I kinda miss you. I feel like I’m talking to myself and there are things that are happening that I think you would appreciate, you know?” He pats Spencer’s tummy and sighs again. “And I mean, I think if you could, you’d be laughing at Brendon with the whole collar thing. Because seriously, it was funny. And you know it is.” And even as he says it, his fingers brush over the bell. “You’re not going anywhere though, are you?”

Shifting, Jon slides his fingers along the collar until he can take it off. He tosses the small pink cord into the kitchen and the bell tinkles as it hits the tile. “There you go.”

A sandpapery kiss brushes along Jon’s fingers and he smiles at the few licks that he’s allowed before Spencer settles back down onto Jon’s lap. “You’re welcome,” Jon says.

---

They lay low the entire day. Jon cleans a little bit, taking care of the dishes while Spencer sits on the counter watching him. They play a little bit, though it seems like Spencer is entertaining Jon more than the other way around. They watch a movie on TNT, though he doesn’t think the network knows drama more than HBO does.

They settle into bed early, because Jon is bored and suddenly tired with the weight of everything that has been going on. He’s lost count of how long Spencer has been a cat, of how many loads of laundry he’s done, how many cans of cat food he’s purchased, how many recipes he’s tried to come up with something new and interesting that Spencer might enjoy more than the store-bought stuff.

Ryan has even missed three morning phone calls, making them instead in the afternoon, breathless and worried.

In bed, Jon pulls Spencer closer to him, his hand burying in the warm fur. “G’night Spence,” he murmurs, bringing his face as much into the ball of fluff as he can get it without having a sneezing or breathing problem in the middle of the night. “And if you really can hear me dude, I really miss you.”

It feels like – maybe – Spencer sighs, but since Jon doesn’t think that cats can do that, he assumes that it actually is him. He’s lame, Jon thinks, but also a little bit lonely. There’s something missing when Spencer isn’t around to remind them all what jackasses they are.

“I miss you a lot, actually.”

The last thing he remembers is another sandpapery kiss on his wrist, and then Jon is asleep, dreaming about Brendon trying to neuter Spencer, and then him.

---

Jon wakes up hot and covered with sweat. But he also wakes up with full arms, which is strange because the few times he had awoken with Spencer still in his arms, it really hadn’t amounted to much.

He moves his hand, up a little, touching a hand that isn’t his, then down, touching a soft belly that isn’t his either. And in fact…

Jon opens his eyes, and jerks back when all he sees is pale skin, soft brown hair brushing against it. “Spence!” Jon says, and Spencer jerks too, waking quickly.

“Hmmm?” He licks his lips and then stretches, pressing himself back against Jon before turning toward him, lying on his back and smiling at Jon. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“Um,” Jon says. He looks down, at the expanse of Spencer’s smooth flesh and then into Spencer’s face. “I should um,” he says.

Spencer brings his hand up to his face and rubs at his cheek, at his nose, and Jon pushes the covers toward him so that Spencer can cover up. “Seriously,” Spencer says. “What are you doing in here?”


“Um,” Jon says again. “Do you remember anything that just happened?”

“You mean like,” Spencer starts. “Me waking up and you being in my bed, wrapped around me like we’re a disgusting human pretzel?” Spencer’s eyebrows inch up his face and Jon nearly falls out of the bed, he’s moving back so far.

He stands up, looking around, and then grabs Spencer’s phone. “I have to call Ryan,” he says. “Do you know what day it is?” he asks, looking at Spencer as the phone rings in his ear.

“What does that matter?” Spencer asks. He sits up, pulling the sheets around his waist and glares at Jon.

“Hey,” Ryan says on the other end of the line. He sounds alert, awake. “What’s wrong?”

Jon blinks a moment, staring at Spencer. What if everything was just a dream?

What if it was some hellish nightmare and he had somehow sleepwalked into Spencer’s bedroom and curled up around him like that? What if none of this had happened but instead Jon had just had the most elaborate dream ever in the history of elaborate dreams? “Dude, Jon. Come back.” Jon shakes his head and brings his attention back to Ryan. “Did he get out? Do we need to make posters?”

Jon smiles. “He’s back,” he says.

“WHAT!”

Jon nods, and who cares that Ryan can’t see him? And who cares that Spencer is staring at Jon like he’s a refugee from the planet Dumbass. “We woke up in some big, half-naked gay spoon.”

Ryan snorts and Spencer’s cheeks turn pink even as he frowns at Jon. “What was the revelation?” Ryan asks.

“I love him,” Jon says, looking at Spencer, who blanches, clutching the sheets tighter. Ryan laughs. “I’m in love with him,” Jon says. “Tell Brendon to keep his hands off of him.”

Spencer pulls the sheets up to his chin and Ryan laughs harder. “So not a problem Jon.” And then a moment later, Ryan’s muffled voice. “Jon says to keep your hands off of Spencer, who has turned into a real boy!” The end of his statement mocking Brendon’s own use of the phrase, and there’s a muffled thump, and then Brendon’s on the phone.

“Really?” Brendon asks and Jon laughs.

“Really what?”

“Really he’s a really real boy?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Spencer snaps, pushing the sheets off the bed, nudity be damned.

Brendon hoots, laughing. “We’ll come by later, dude. Congratulations to you both!” He hangs up and Jon tosses the phone to the ground before turning to Spencer.

“What is the fuck is going on,” Spencer asks again. He reaches for the sheets that he had just thrown off, but Jon doesn’t respond to him. Instead he just crawls onto the bed, almost catlike in his actions, moving slowly up toward Spencer, on fists and knees. “Seriously. Jon. You all have gone crazy. The three of you.” He swallows and leans back when Jon doesn’t quite straddle him, instead just moving to the side of him. “I’m quitting the band,” he says quickly. “I can’t get onto a tour bus with three crazy people. You’ll kill me and shove me in the luggage hold or something. My mom will cry.”

“You have to call your mom,” Jon tells Spencer. He places one hand on the smooth stomach there, moving his fingers slowly along the skin. And Jon watches Spencer’s face, battling against itself as he tries not to smile.

“Fuck,” Spencer finally murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “What the,” he starts, opening his eyes and looking at Jon, putting his hand on Jon’s hand.

“I love you,” Jon says. He grins down at Spencer, leaning in until he can plant a hard kiss right on Spencer’s lips. “And you totally love me too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer says, and this time it is definitely not a denial.

“Call your mom,” Jon says. He nods toward the phone. “Then have I got a story for you.” Spencer doesn’t look convinced, so Jon presses a kiss to his shoulder now. “It’s about a dude,” and he kisses Spencer’s shoulder again, “and a cat,” and a third time now, grinning with each kiss because if Spencer didn’t want him to do this, his fist would already have met violently with Jon’s face, “and two other lame dudes who won’t tell the truth when it’s right in front of their fucking faces.”

Spencer sighs, but he reaches his arm out for the phone. Jon can’t wait to listen.

End