Under most circumstances, when Joel says that things will be okay, Spencer doesn't find it hard to believe him. After the lighthouse, after the cruise, after the demon, they've reassured each other time and time again that it's okay, it'll be okay, and it seems a bit silly and dramatic to compare something like this to some of the truly worst times they've experienced together but Spencer can't quite help it because he doesn't see how any of this is okay. Nothing about how he feels or what he knows has changed, he's still Spencer Waters-Baker, son of Vera and Spencer, Sr., brother to Dane, and husband to Joel; but this body is all wrong and the longer he's in it, the more uncomfortable he is.
Joel's hand on his shoulder makes him freeze, the touch of it both familiar and not all at once because even though he's memorized every part of his husband, head to toe, it still feels different. His hand feels larger, rougher against Spencer's smoother, more delicate skin, but the warmth is there, as it always is and always will be, and Spencer leans into it. One deep breath is followed by another until he finally finds the courage to look at Joel again, having no clue whatsoever what his face looks like now, and it's just bizarre. He can't imagine what Joel must be thinking right now because Spencer doesn't know how he'd react himself, waking up in the morning to find someone who looks like a stranger in their bed.
He wonders if he would have been able to see his husband past a new exterior even without being able to see his aura, if Spencer would have eventually been able to recognize Joel simply by his mannerisms, his cadence of speech, a look that Spencer wouldn't get from anyone else; and more than that, he supposes he wonders if Joel would have been able to do the same. Somehow, musing on that calms him because he arrives at the only conclusion that's acceptable anyway, that of course they'd both be able to tell without any extraordinary assistance, even if it took just a few more minutes to get over the initial shock.
None of this changes the fact that there's a tension between them right now, though, one that exists because it's very apparent--fairly so--that neither of them are quite sure how to deal with this. "It has to be the potion," he says, and it's easier that way, to default to something rational in the face of what he can't quite wrap his mind around. "The one that gave me the powers, it's the only thing I can think of, short of some kind of curse, and I don't know what anyone would hope to accomplish by cursing me like this. But I'm still me. You-- You can tell that, right?" He rolls over onto his side, looking up at Joel with wide, mildly desperate eyes as he rests his hand on his husband's chest. "Right?"
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Date: 2015-01-16 03:34 am (UTC)Joel's hand on his shoulder makes him freeze, the touch of it both familiar and not all at once because even though he's memorized every part of his husband, head to toe, it still feels different. His hand feels larger, rougher against Spencer's smoother, more delicate skin, but the warmth is there, as it always is and always will be, and Spencer leans into it. One deep breath is followed by another until he finally finds the courage to look at Joel again, having no clue whatsoever what his face looks like now, and it's just bizarre. He can't imagine what Joel must be thinking right now because Spencer doesn't know how he'd react himself, waking up in the morning to find someone who looks like a stranger in their bed.
He wonders if he would have been able to see his husband past a new exterior even without being able to see his aura, if Spencer would have eventually been able to recognize Joel simply by his mannerisms, his cadence of speech, a look that Spencer wouldn't get from anyone else; and more than that, he supposes he wonders if Joel would have been able to do the same. Somehow, musing on that calms him because he arrives at the only conclusion that's acceptable anyway, that of course they'd both be able to tell without any extraordinary assistance, even if it took just a few more minutes to get over the initial shock.
None of this changes the fact that there's a tension between them right now, though, one that exists because it's very apparent--fairly so--that neither of them are quite sure how to deal with this. "It has to be the potion," he says, and it's easier that way, to default to something rational in the face of what he can't quite wrap his mind around. "The one that gave me the powers, it's the only thing I can think of, short of some kind of curse, and I don't know what anyone would hope to accomplish by cursing me like this. But I'm still me. You-- You can tell that, right?" He rolls over onto his side, looking up at Joel with wide, mildly desperate eyes as he rests his hand on his husband's chest. "Right?"