[i]No rest for the wicked. And anyway, [/i]darling, [i]I’d say that when you’re with me and I’m giving you that kind of material for [/i]later[i], you’re in heaven.[/i] Ryan decided he would have to not grace some of these things with responses if he was going to get anywhere today. As long as he kept on providing Brendon with mocking material, he'd probably be stuck in this bed for hours arguing with him about [i]not[/i] getting up. Like, the only reason he hadn't risen after the fiftieth dig at his expense was spite. That was kind of how they subsisted, though, just a constant back-and-forth that never escalated into real conflict and always involved them acting dumb and lovesick every once in a while. Funny how functional they could be when their lives were purely sitcom material.

[i]It’s not.[/i] Ryan almost flipped him off. Almost. The real struggle was lifting his hand from his head. [i]Which sun are you referring to, Ryan?[/i] Shit. Another easy target. Ryan sighed, looking towards the sun he was actually referring to, feeling the glow spread across his face and feeling the exact opposite of refreshed by it. He blinked in the light momentarily before turning his attention back to Brendon, prepared for whatever smartassery would follow. [i]I’m fucking you over right now, really, so. Both work.[/i] Weirdly, part of him was becoming fond of how dedicated Brendon was to bothering him - or playfully messing with him, anyway. Sometimes he couldn't tell whether Brendon was serious or not. Instead of the typical scowl he'd pull out, Ryan sort of smirked, squinting against the shine. [b]"I'm glad you're at least self-aware,"[/b] he said, unclear morning voice giving him some added sense of calmness.

The slight fondness didn't last long; as much as Brendon's lewd miming was amusing, he couldn't feasibly encourage it by laughing along with the joke, so Ryan reacted as matronly as he could. [i]I was just on board to suck your dick, idiot. You should have taken that. Not like you to back out.[/i] Ryan would have gone red again if he hadn't reached his max capacity, probably. As it were he just half-frowned at Brendon, dubious. [b]"Sure you were. 'Cause I'm [i]so[/i] desirable right now."[/b] Nearly a fair point. He looked sickly when he was hiding from the golden light of the sun, and he was still wearing 80% of his birthday clothes from last night - the difference was, they were completely twisted and wrinkled from sleep, buttons in disarray and all. Sure, he was only marginally worse off from an average morning, but still. Not a good look for him, and he certainly didn't qualify for any of Brendon's supposed 'favors.'

Ryan watched Brendon distract himself with his phone for a moment, putting the pieces together that he was reading all the messages that Ryan had blatantly been avoiding. [i]They wanted to get you pissed, that’s why. Getting drunk isn’t inherently [/i]bad, [i]you know.[/i] Ryan met his gaze and was suddenly uncomfortable with the implication. First it spoke to Brendon's experiences that he never wanted to think about - then there was the annoying part of him that argued 'yes it [i]is[/i],' even despite the years of him trying to unlearn that misconception. Either he thought the act itself was stupid or anyone who participated was stupid, senseless. He'd only ever witnessed the negative effects, anyway. Funnily enough, if he'd stuck around at his party, maybe he could've witnessed the flip side to that... Bygones.

He tried to break the contact first, glancing at his fingernails and chipping at them absently. [i]I envy you. My 21st is going to be so fucking boring.[/i] Ryan arched an eyebrow, but wasn't looking in Brendon's direction. [b]"You underestimate my ability to throw an alcohol-free party. Not to spoil anything, but you should totally expect a fuckton of weed to make up for the loss."[/b] But that wasn't really news. He'd been throwing Brendon-themed birthday parties for years now, and they all went along the same lines with some appropriate variation as they grew older; baseline was of course weed, karaoke, and plenty of sugary snacks/drinks. What started off with Aladdin showings and Disneyworld visits evolved into everyone sitting around a smoky room watching Brendon attempt a very stoned falsetto. Story of his life, basically.

At the simple gesture of Brendon retrieving medicine for him, though, Ryan was considering just buying him the entire goddamn world - and Brendon didn't appear very complimented by his whim implication that he'd had peaked from this one single act of kindness. Ryan silently apologised to his judgmental eyebrow. [i]I know.[/i] At least he seemed to have taken Brendon down a notch. Ryan smiled a little, watching him make the journey back over and climb ontop of him once more. Sneakily he turned his head at the last moment to guide both of them into a real kiss and Ryan felt lucky for it; it was [i]sort of[/i] forgiveness, after all. Maybe not, though. Rather evilly, Brendon ground down and ahead, and Ryan was caught so off-guard that he didn't think to control the instant hitch in his breath. Clearly in a desperate state, Ryan latched on to the fabric of Brendon's shirt as he began to pull away, an effort to keep him in place.

[i]That’s alright. You can’t help, uh, a lot of things. But you’re still a whiny bitch.[/i] [b]"Sure, sure, you're right,"[/b] he said distractedly, evidently completely uncaring about his new, colorful label. Sort of proving it correct, he started pulling needily on Brendon's shirt, trying to meet him in a second kiss. [b]"I'm having a [i]moment of weakness[/i] and you're being like [i]that.[/i] I have good cause to be a whiny bitch."[/b] He was grinning dizzily, though, so clearly not that upset; in fact what was Brendon's attempt at teasing him seemed to have lifted his spirits somewhat. [b]"Like, apart from my baby hangover, I mean."[/b]