Brendon really was used to different levels of attention and affection that what he was (or rather, wasn’t) subjected to that day. In the morning, when they had both got out of bed without a word, Brendon kind of silently asking Ryan where his kiss was, and his mind wandered to fond memories of regular mornings, where they would either wake up hours before they had to do anything and fill the time very creatively (more often than not in the same way), or they woke up late and stayed in bed anyway because nothing really mattered in their own little world, either under sheets and tangled together or just lying side by side when it was too hot to get closer but they still wanted to be close. Both were perfectly happy sitting in silence with eachother if the occasion called- because Brendon knew all he had to do was lean over slightly and Ryan would mostly catch on and kiss him. It was simply, really— all he asked for was a little appreciation, and though he couldn’t deny that usually Ryan was sufficiently doting, on days like this when he barely acknowledged Brendon, he perhaps took it too seriously.

They were on tour, yes, but in the past, that had changed nothing. Every time the two of them became more efficient at making the most of their short periods of alone time together, but as the band grew in popularity and attention, the amount of shows increased and free time dwindled. Even when there was moments to catch their breath, other people tended to be present. All that considered, maybe he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about Ryan’s actions- but Brendon was impulsive, made accusations before he thought them through, and was very easily touch starved. He was kind of strange in that there were hundreds of people practically screaming his name and it didn’t really matter because there was only one person he really wanted that from. And that was an example of how his mind drifted completely off topic sometimes even during a show, drowning in multicoloured stage lights and sweating his ass off in the same leather pants he wore for every single show for the last two large tours.

So, although he was still pissed, Brendon couldn’t help feel a little better when Ryan pressed his hand against his chest- luckily he tended to be a good actor and managed to look like he was tolerating it, but he was unimpressed. Instead of telling him to go away like he told himself he wanted to, he went on a tangent about something that was so long-winded by the end he couldn’t even remember what he was talking about in the first place. His kind, again, was elsewhere. [i]Very sure. I’ll hear you out.[/i] That response was the last thing he ever expected- in fact, he had braced himself to just get a ‘fine, go then’, but apparently Ryan really did want him to stay and Brendon, again, felt himself soften a little because he wasn’t built or meant for picking fights. Brendon, though fiery, was passionate in that he was chiefly a lover, barely a fighter. [b]”Sweet.”[/b]

Still, he had the upper hand and he didn’t just want to forgive and forget immediately, so when Ryan tried the suggestive route (that sounded suspiciously like a business transaction but Brendon didn’t much care if it meant he got what he wanted), he hesitated and forced himself not to jump to the proposal right away. Inhaling and exhaling, he forced himself to look away from Ryan (he was so damn pretty, his hair was getting longer again and his eyes made Brendon weak, he was a hard man to resist) and turned towards the shower with painfully obvious reluctance. There were a million things he’d rather be doing and all involved Ryan- Okay, one thing, and it [i]was[/i] Ryan. [b]”Yeah, uh. Sweating like hell. It’s these damn pants,”[/b] He said absently, reaching down to start unbuckling his belt while looking pointedly from Ryan, to the door, back to Ryan.

[i]Okay.[/i] He said that, but Brendon didn’t see any movement. He slipped his belt off and dropped it on the floor, before crossing his arms loosely across his chest and raising an expectant eyebrow. [i]I’ll join you, then.[/i] Brendon’s eyes widened immediately because that was the last thing he expected even when Ryan promised he’d make up for everything Brendon said he’d done- but he wasn’t about to complain, just watched, a little dumbfounded, as Ryan shrugged off his jacket. Awfully bold of him to assume that Brendon would survive such an experience. He felt himself heating up again and his arms dropped to hang at his sides, his hands almost itching. [b]”I-“[/b] [i]If that's alright with you, I mean. I won't if you're mad.[/i] Of course it was alright with him, he’d been trying to convince Ryan to shower with him for forever. Ryan’s past adamant refusal meant he kind of expected Ryan to back out pretty quickly, so he jumped on the opportunity before the window closed.

[b]”You sure?”[/b] He asked finally, stepping close again, running a hand through his hair, aware again of their height difference but this time it made his breath shorten. It was a mystery as to why Ryan was always labelled the easy one out of the two of them- Brendon was just perpetually weak. [b]”We can just wait til after I shower, and-“[/b] It hit him suddenly that he was still kind of annoyed and the petty part of him told him to refuse because it was only a method to try and butter up to him, not sudden newfound enthusiasm. Pausing, Brendon reached down to the zipper of his jeans, taking his attention away from Ryan and letting his husband decide what he wanted to do. He came very close to just telling Ryan to go away.