Spencer only smiles, at the denial of anyone being jealous and at the suggestion that anyone would be jealous of Joel, eventually settling on the fact that maybe the reason people look at them the way they do is because they're jealous of what they have. This relationship had appeared seemingly out of nowhere; one moment, he'd been perfectly at ease--not happy, not really at all, but at ease--with being alone and the next, Joel had been walking into his life and home and heart without so much as a hint of warning. He isn't sure how many people really get as worked up as either of them had over a mere brush of their fingers, how many would find it life-altering for someone to hold their hand, but everything Joel has done for him has gone a long way in changing the outlook Spencer has on life.
He'd been utterly terrified of loss, so much so that it had become easier to keep people from getting too close to him than to just let go and allow himself to be cared for, never mind allowing himself to be truly loved. He's bad luck, he'd tell himself, making friends--which he'd never been very good at in the first place anyway--would be the equivalent of painting a target on their heads and inviting the world to have at them, an offering in penance for something Spencer can't even comprehend. Even with Lara and Cosette, even with John, who'd been a dear friend to his family for years, Spencer had insisted on keeping an arm's length because the idea of having to deal with the loss of any of them always hurt far more than the loneliness.
"You were the first person to make me feel like this could be worth the risk," he says, and it's casual, very nearly flippant, the way he says it, but Spencer knows that Joel will understand just how important that is. It's not just the coffee, not just the fact that Spencer has stopped reading the sort of articles Joel does just so he can hear his husband talk about the first; it's not just that the love they share is so strong that it's practically tangible or that their baby is going to bring them more joy than they could ever really prepare for, it's not just about any of that. Whether Joel realizes it or not, he's given Spencer a reason to live, truly live, and without the regret he'd be feeling over another Christmas spent in an empty house with only the memories of what it had been like to love and be loved still haunting him.
He's quiet for a long moment, meticulously unfurling and adjusting the lights here and there over the tree until he's run short of his end of the strand. Spencer hadn't bothered putting up a tree for the last couple years, there hadn't seemed to be much of a point, and it keeps hitting him over and over again that decorating for the holidays is never going to feel pointless again. He has someone to share these experiences with now, someone to share in the joy that's supposed to come with making a mess of the living room with ornaments and tinsel and more lights strewn all over the place. This is the sort of good life he hadn't expected, certainly hadn't been looking for, but he knows there's absolutely no going back for him. Spencer wouldn't trade this life, this love he has for his husband, for the world. This is where he belongs, at Joel's side with a smile on his face and his chest swelling with affection.
"Anyway, I'm sure we could get into a very long-winded debate over who's more desirable between the two of us but for now, we can agree to disagree," he teases, throwing a smile over his shoulder before bending down on one knee to plug the lights into the outlet against the wall. "Besides, I don't care about anyone else noticing me. I'm yours, through and through, nothing could ever change that." He shifts his body so he can reach for the switch for the lights, flipping it to 'on' and grinning as the entire tree brightens with the glow of the tiny bulbs. It still looks considerably bear, they're not done yet, but Spencer can't keep the enormous smile of his face because they're one step closer now. They're one step closer to their first Christmas together, and Spencer can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.
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He'd been utterly terrified of loss, so much so that it had become easier to keep people from getting too close to him than to just let go and allow himself to be cared for, never mind allowing himself to be truly loved. He's bad luck, he'd tell himself, making friends--which he'd never been very good at in the first place anyway--would be the equivalent of painting a target on their heads and inviting the world to have at them, an offering in penance for something Spencer can't even comprehend. Even with Lara and Cosette, even with John, who'd been a dear friend to his family for years, Spencer had insisted on keeping an arm's length because the idea of having to deal with the loss of any of them always hurt far more than the loneliness.
"You were the first person to make me feel like this could be worth the risk," he says, and it's casual, very nearly flippant, the way he says it, but Spencer knows that Joel will understand just how important that is. It's not just the coffee, not just the fact that Spencer has stopped reading the sort of articles Joel does just so he can hear his husband talk about the first; it's not just that the love they share is so strong that it's practically tangible or that their baby is going to bring them more joy than they could ever really prepare for, it's not just about any of that. Whether Joel realizes it or not, he's given Spencer a reason to live, truly live, and without the regret he'd be feeling over another Christmas spent in an empty house with only the memories of what it had been like to love and be loved still haunting him.
He's quiet for a long moment, meticulously unfurling and adjusting the lights here and there over the tree until he's run short of his end of the strand. Spencer hadn't bothered putting up a tree for the last couple years, there hadn't seemed to be much of a point, and it keeps hitting him over and over again that decorating for the holidays is never going to feel pointless again. He has someone to share these experiences with now, someone to share in the joy that's supposed to come with making a mess of the living room with ornaments and tinsel and more lights strewn all over the place. This is the sort of good life he hadn't expected, certainly hadn't been looking for, but he knows there's absolutely no going back for him. Spencer wouldn't trade this life, this love he has for his husband, for the world. This is where he belongs, at Joel's side with a smile on his face and his chest swelling with affection.
"Anyway, I'm sure we could get into a very long-winded debate over who's more desirable between the two of us but for now, we can agree to disagree," he teases, throwing a smile over his shoulder before bending down on one knee to plug the lights into the outlet against the wall. "Besides, I don't care about anyone else noticing me. I'm yours, through and through, nothing could ever change that." He shifts his body so he can reach for the switch for the lights, flipping it to 'on' and grinning as the entire tree brightens with the glow of the tiny bulbs. It still looks considerably bear, they're not done yet, but Spencer can't keep the enormous smile of his face because they're one step closer now. They're one step closer to their first Christmas together, and Spencer can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.