Work Text:
You and Spencer Agnew had… a history.
Not the cute kind. The “I can’t be in a room with you for more than fifteen minutes without arguing about something completely irrelevant” kind.
He got under your skin in that effortless way that only certain people do. Always quick with a sarcastic quip, always pretending not to care, always right when it mattered most, which only made it worse. He was charming in a smug, insufferable way. Infuriatingly quick-witted, too good at comebacks, and always had that damn half-smile on his face like he knew something you didn’t. You two clashed constantly, like flint and steel.
Everyone at Smosh knew the two of you didn’t get along. You were constantly being separated in group shoots to “keep the peace,” and when you were both unfortunately stuck in a group together everyone was walking on eggshells around you both. The tension between you was so thick, not even a sword could cut through it.
So when the team planned a full week retreat in the mountains for some downtime and brainstorming, you didn’t even think to worry. You’d be sharing a cabin with the crew, maybe bunk beds or couches or something. No big deal.
But the moment you saw Spencer Agnew’s name next to yours on the room assignments list, you knew the week was doomed. The Smosh cabin retreat was supposed to help everyone destress and relax, to disconnect from screens, and allegedly “bond.” How were you supposed to do any of that with Spencer Agnew in your room.
You had agreed to go to the cabin mostly for the free food and promise of hot chocolate by a fireplace. You had not agreed to be stuck sharing a room with the only person at Smosh you couldn’t get through a conversation with without biting your tongue.
“Room three,” Courtney said, handing you a key to your room upon your arrival. “Please be nice.”
“Define nice,” You grumbled, glaring at them through your lashes.
Courtney just laughed. “Try not to murder him. Some of us actually like him.”
They gave you a quick hug and sent you on your way to your own personal hell for the week.
You convinced yourself it would be fine. You would be the bigger person, not make a big deal about the room assignment, and have a fabulous time at the cabin retreat just to piss Spencer off.
And everything was fine, until you opened the door to your assigned room and saw a single queen-sized bed.
And Spencer was already sitting on it, scrolling on his phone.
You stopped dead in the doorway just looking in with your suitcase in hand. Your brain had short circuited and all hope you had for the week disappeared.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
He didn’t look up. “I didn’t say anything. So I can’t be kidding.”
You stared at the bed. “There’s only one.”
Spencer finally glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “Wow, you’re great at counting. This’ll be fun.”
You groaned. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”
“No, you’re sleeping in the bed.”
“You’re not sleeping next to me.” You said quickly.
“Didn’t plan on it,” he said, already setting his bag on the floor. “I’ll take the floor. Not like it’s the first time I’ve slept on hard surfaces.”
You blinked. “Be my guest.”
--------------------------------------------------------
Night One
Spencer had made a makeshift bed out of throw pillows and a folded blanket from the linen closet. It looked fine. Not ideal, but you were determined to avoid sharing a bed with him.
You had to be honest, you did feel a little guilty, but you’d rather he woke up with a crick in his neck than risk kicking him in your sleep and giving him bragging rights for the rest of eternity.
Spencer didn’t say much as he changed into a t-shirt and joggers, and you brushed your teeth in the shared bathroom, already in your pajamas. You didn’t listen to what little he was saying, just like how you had ignored him the majority of the day. You just wanted to escape this horrid situation by sinking into your soft pillow and sweet dreams.
You curled up on the bed, back turned to the room, feeling weirdly tense even though Spencer wasn’t even on the mattress. You had glanced down to see him wrapping himself up on the cold floor like a disgruntled burrito, muttering something to himself that you couldn’t hear.
But you caught the end of his words, just as you rolled onto your side:
“…you know there’s room down here.”
You didn’t respond.
You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Despite your best efforts, you couldn't fall asleep. Not because of the cold, not because of the bed. Because just knowing that Spencer was somewhere in the darkness set you on edge.
You could hear him breathing. Soft and steady and too close for comfort.
You hated that you noticed.
--------------------------------------------------------
Night Two
You two argued about firewood. Being the bigger person be damned.
You argued over who should’ve grabbed it, whether it was stacked correctly, if it was even real firewood. What was kindling and what was tinder, and how to place it in your room's fireplace correctly. You stormed across the room and paced around him, fuming.
“I don’t get why you have to act like you know everything,” you muttered, digging through your bag for your extra hoodie. You pulled it on, then threw your coat over it.
“I don’t act like I know everything,” he said calmly, sitting down in the chair in the corner. “I do know everything. It’s a burden, really.”
You threw a pillow at his head.
He dodged it, laughing. “Wow, mature.”
You just flipped him off, proving his point, and stormed out of the room.
“Hey, are you alright?” Courtney asked as you stomped through the living room and towards the front door.
“Yep. Just need some fresh air.” You said shortly and accidentally slammed the door behind you, making the windows of the cabin quiver.
You trudged around the cabin, the snow inhibiting your desire to stomp around in rage. You couldn’t stand Spencer’s smug attitude. You hated how he was actually right a lot of time. You hated how his mouth curled up in a little smirk when he saw you knew he was right. You hated how much you stared at his lips in that smirk.
You walked a couple laps around the cabin, just trying to blow off steam. Finally coming to a stop to catch your breath, you noticed you were standing in front of the window to your shared room. Peeking inside, you caught Spencer pulling off his sweatshirt, the fabric riding up just enough to flash a glimpse of skin. Despite the cold, your cheeks instantly got warm. You looked away immediately, deciding it was time to go inside.
Upon reentering your room, you purposely kept your eyes far away from Spencer. If you so much as looked at his feet you started to feel a little hot. You didn’t speak as you gathered your things to take a shower and get ready for bed.
When you were done, you were expecting the lamp in your shared room to be turned off and Spencer to be once again curled up on the floor. What you weren't expecting was him to be right outside the bathroom door. You nearly ran into him.
“Did you enjoy the show earlier?”
“I- what?” Your face got hot again.
“In the window. Did you enjoy the show?”
You scoffed. “Please. I’ve seen more defined abs on bread dough.”
He snorted. “Don’t pretend you don’t look.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You don’t deny it, though.”
You pushed past him to get into your bed. “Shut up and get in your blanket cocoon.”
Later that night, a storm rolled in. It was loud, wind howling through the trees outside. It was cold, so much colder than the night before. You shifted under the covers, listening to the occasional crack of thunder.
Then a whisper: “Are you awake?”
You rolled over. “What?”
“Do you think anyone else is sharing a room this awkwardly?” His teeth chattered.
You stared into the dark. “Only if they also hate their roommate.”
He was quiet for a beat. Then: “Do you actually hate me?”
You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you weren’t sure how to say “I think I might like you too much to just hate you.”
Like the night before, you lay awake in bed just listening to his breathing. You waited until it slowed and deepened. Then you got up, trying to not let the bed creak, and you silently placed your spare blanket on top of his huddled form.
As you crawled back into bed, you didn’t see the small smile appear on his face.
--------------------------------------------------------
Night Three
Courtney and Shayne had to pull you aside after dinner. They claimed it was your turn to help with dishes, but you knew it was supposed to be Angela. You helped regardless.
“You guys have to stop fighting,” Courtney said, handing you a plate to dry.
“We’re not fighting,” you replied too quickly, whipping the towel around a little too forcefully.
“Your entire vibe is aggressively like an old married couple on the brink of divorce,” Shayne added, his arms elbow-deep in soapy water. “It’s unbearable.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like that.”
Courtney gave you a long look. “You sure?”
You just finished putting the dishes away and walked away from them, not wanting to discuss Spencer any further. Unbeknownst to you, your two friends had taken matters into their own hands. Courtney had “accidentally” taken all the extra blankets for the group movie night, and the floor was officially freezing.
That night, when you walked into the room, Spencer was shivering in the fetal position on top of just the few throw pillows that were mercifully not stolen by Courtney. Spencer’s back was turned and didn’t say anything when you entered.
You stood there, staring at his pitiful floor setup. You knew his back was sore, you had seen him stretching and groaning in pain from the corner of your eye all day. You knew he was tired, he had a concerning amount of energy drinks during the day, at least four more than usual.
And you were tired too, tired of how quiet the room felt when he wasn’t tossing jabs your way because he didn’t have the energy. He didn’t even try to get another rise out of you after your third “fight” of the day. You wouldn’t stand for it.
“…Fine,” you mumbled. “Just get in the bed.”
Spencer rolled over to look at you over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Romance isn’t dead.”
“I’m serious. I’m not letting you freeze to death just because we’re emotionally stunted.”
“Fair.”
You crawled into the bed slowly, keeping to your side.
He climbed in slowly, leaving a polite three feet of space between you. Neither of you moved. Neither of you slept. Neither of you really tried.
After twenty minutes of silence, he finally spoke, voice low. “ You didn’t answer me last night. Why do you hate me?”
You exhaled. “I don’t.”
He turned to face you in the dark. “Could’ve fooled me.”
You swallowed. “I don’t hate you. You just… get under my skin.”
His voice dropped an octave. “Is that a bad thing?
You turned to look at him. His face was inches from yours now, barely lit by the glow of the moon through the curtain.
“No,” you said quietly. “That’s the problem.”
There was a pause. Then a very, very quiet: “You drive me insane, you know that?”
“I lose brain cells talking to you.”
“Every time you roll your eyes at me, I want to kiss you just to make you stop.”
Your breath caught.
You could barely see him, but you could feel him, warm and close, the air between you charged and heavy and full of something that had been buried for too long.
And then:
You kissed him.
Just once. Soft, cautious, like a question neither of you had been brave enough to ask before.
When you pulled back, Spencer didn’t move, but his voice came soft through the dark. “Took you long enough.”
You laughed, quiet and surprised. And even though you couldn’t see it, he smiled like he hadn’t in months.
--------------------------------------------------------
Night Four
Something changed.
Not dramatically, just barely enough to catch the corner of your eye if you knew where to look.
It started on the trail for the “Team Bonding Hike.” You didn’t argue during the hike. Not even once.
You’d both also ended up near the back of the hiking group, not deliberately, but not entirely by accident either. The rest of the cast was ahead, laughing about how Shayne tripped over a funny looking root. You and Spencer? Quietly walking. One could say even peacefully so.
He offered you his water bottle when yours ran out. No teasing, no smirk. Just a simple, “Here,” and a glance that lingered too long.
Later, when the wind picked up, you tugged your spare beanie from your backpack and held it out to him. “You’re gonna complain the whole way back if your ears freeze.”
He took it wordlessly. Pulled it on. And smiled just slightly.
When you returned to the cabin, the others filtered inside in pairs, stomping snow from their boots and shedding jackets. You hung back to kick off your own boots, fingers still cold and clumsy.
Spencer leaned against the doorframe behind you, watching you wrestle with the laces.
“You’re not as annoying as I remembered,” he said casually.
You looked up, frowning. “Is that your version of a compliment?”
He shrugged. “Don’t get used to it.”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved into a smile before you could stop them.
He saw it. You saw that he saw it.
And neither of you said a word.
He just kneeled down, pushed your still struggling fingers aside, effortlessly untied your boot laces for you and walked away without another word.
That night, when you slid into bed, it was quieter than usual. No jabs. No grumbles about the blanket being uneven or the pillow “mysteriously” moving closer to the center of the bed.
Just warmth.
You both lay facing away from each other, suddenly shy as the memories of last night resurfaced. Your legs stretched toward opposite corners of the mattress.
But under the blankets, your feet brushed.
Neither of you moved away.
--------------------------------------------------------
Night Five
You couldn’t sleep.
Not from the cold, Spencer ran warm. His side of the bed was a furnace, radiating heat like a human space heater. But your mind wouldn’t rest. It had started replaying every moment from the last few days with new clarity. A look here. A laugh there.
The water bottle.
The beanie.
The way he hadn’t pulled away from your touch.
The kiss.
You stared at the ceiling, eyes wide in the darkness, heart thudding far too loudly in your chest. You were sure Spencer could hear it.
But next to you, Spencer was still.
Too still.
You rolled on your side to face him.
“Hey,” you whispered. “You awake?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. You were about to roll back over when-
“…Yeah.”
You hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
Sheets rustled. He shifted slightly, just enough to turn and face you. “Sure.”
Your voice came quieter now. “Why do we fight so much?”
There was a long pause. You could hear the wind against the cabin window, the distant creak of old wood and footsteps upstairs.
Then Spencer breathed out.
“I think…” He sounded unsure. Not like him. “It’s easier than admitting I like you.”
The room went silent again. Your breath caught and your chest clenched. “What?”
He didn’t try to explain it away. He just let it sit there, honest and a little raw.
“I mean, I’m not good at it,” he went on, barely above a whisper now. “But I’ve been trying to show it. I brought you tea last week. You didn’t even notice.”
Now your chest ached. “I noticed.”
He stilled.
“I noticed everything,” you admitted, voice fragile. “You gave me your seat at lunch even though you made it look like you didn’t want it. You offered me gum when I was nervous. You let me have the bed while you slept on the floor. The cold, hard floor. You always act like I’m a pain, but you’ve been kind in all these quiet little ways, and I didn’t know if it meant something or if I was just imagining it.”
In the dark, you reached across the invisible boundary line that had lived between you since the first night. The line that had only been broken once before with a forbidden kiss you two still hadn't discussed.
Your fingers brushed his arm, hesitant, barely touching his wrist.
His hand found yours, fingers curling around yours gently. Solid. Steady.
Spencer whispered, “You weren’t imagining it.”
You stared at each other in the dark. Not a word more passed between you.
But you did not let go.
Not all night.
--------------------------------------------------------
The Next Morning
You woke up slowly.
Soft morning light filtered in through the sheer curtains, and for a moment, you didn’t register why the bed felt… different.
And then you realized.
The space between you was gone.
Spencer’s arm was draped across your waist.
Your head was on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.
Your legs were tangled together under the blankets, and the space between you that had once been filled with tension, complaints, and imaginary lines was now filled with warmth. Breath. Connection.
You didn’t move.
Neither did he.
You just… stayed there.
Content. Warm.
Home.
He was awake, you realized, a few minutes later. His hand was gently rubbing circles on your back through the fabric of your shirt. Not suggestive. Not playful.
Just comforting.
He was holding you like he’d always meant to.
“I could get used to this,” he murmured eventually, voice rough with sleep.
You smiled into his chest. “So could I.”
At breakfast you sat next to each other without thinking, without any awkwardness, and without needing to explain anything.
Spencer handed you your coffee without asking how you liked it. You leaned into his shoulder when you laughed at something Shayne said. His knee pressed against yours beneath the table and didn’t move.
No one said anything. But they noticed.
You could feel it in the way Courtney looked over and smiled for half a second too long. In the way Angela bit her lip to keep from grinning. In the way that no one cracked a single joke about the two of you being civil, like they didn’t want to break the spell.
But it wasn’t a spell. It was something real.
Later, as people drifted outside to start packing the van, you lingered back to rinse your mug. Spencer stood behind you, close enough to feel the heat of his presence at your back.
When you turned, his hand came up gently to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. It was quiet in the cabin, just soft footsteps upstairs, and the distant buzz of someone zipping a duffel bag.
“Hey,” he said.
You looked up.
“I don’t want this to stay here,” he said, voice low. “Whatever this is. Us. I want to keep figuring it out when we’re back.”
Your heart flipped. “You do?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I really, really do.”
You nodded, unable to stop the smile that bloomed on your face.
“Good,” you whispered. “Because I think I’m already used to waking up next to you.”
Spencer leaned in and kissed you, slow and sure, like a promise.
And for once, there was no fight left between you.
Just warmth. Just honesty. Just him.