Through Brendon didn’t have low standards, per say, the cast of people that drew his attention was varied and numerous- though a general rule of ‘they had to be taller than him’ was almost universal and rarely ignored. Varied taste aside, Ryan was, ironically enough, more or less the ‘type’ he described if he had to limit himself to one; tall (taller than him, at least), with dark, almost curly hair and the most ridiculously gorgeous honey-hued eyes he had seen in his entire life. He also had guitarist’s hands, long-fingered and calloused, and Brendon didn’t even realise he had a thing for that until he met Ryan. But he definitely did. When it came to personality, he was equally as open for difference, though again, Ryan’s relatively quiet, sardonic and often dry personality (interspersed with some level of shyness and rare but astounding smiles) drew him in, so different from Brendon’s obvious, boundless energy and his fiery passion for everything he did. Ryan was more low-key, and somewhere he guessed he kind of needed that- even if he had no intention to date this guy, he had other plans, and Ryan would hopefully stick around for a long time due to his job title. It didn’t cross Brendon’s mind that maybe Ryan had actual morals, unlike him and his countless amount of previous no-strings-attached lovers.

Just like how Ryan couldn’t imagine a life of such extravagance, fame and fortune, dining with stars and partying with A-listers, Brendon could barely stand thinking about living as a regular person- Sure, he’d probably attract the same kind of attention from all the people he met, but a life without vintage wine and Versace and penthouse apartments was no life for him. Brendon was okay with the life that a lot of magazines and media claimed he was ‘trapped in’; though perhaps he was trapped by the responsibility and pressure on his shoulders from his comparatively more succesful and put-together family, he definitely knew he lived a life of privilege and luxury and wasn’t prepared to ever give that up. He’d been in Ryan’s house just once (just out of curiosity), even when professionalism called for him to stay at the door, he had wandered in, and though Ryan was by no means struggling, his apartment was nothing compared to Brendon’s most frequently occupied spacious residence. It was a nice neighbourhood, really, and Brendon had given him salary enough and over to not just survive, thrive in the expensive area. He even gave ridiculous bonuses. But to Brendon, money’s value was detached, and paying people and throwing money at them to gain favour was just as natural to him as breathing. Brendon Blake, famous, rich and handsome, required validation and appreciation, and he seemed to think money was the only way to acquire it.

Brendon had a habit of addressing people with seemingly intimate pet names offhandedly, and though he didn’t intend to make people flustered, he was amused by Ryan’s reaction- that slightly dizzy smile he only just caught provoked him to curl up the corner of his mouth just slightly in a retaliatory smirk. [i]Probably sooner than you think of you keep on using soda to get me here.[/i] He frowned instantly, glancing over at his can and then the remaining five in the pack, noting belatedly that he didn’t even really like Dr. Pepper that much. Like he was going to actually admit he just wanted Ryan over- he’d pretend Dr. Pepper was his favourite drink, endorse the fucking company if he had to. Anything to defend his reputation. [b]”First of all, this is the first and last time I’m calling [i]you[/i] at 3am, there are plenty other people who would appreciate the gesture much more,”[/b] He retorted, raising his eyebrows, [b]”And anyway, it’s not that deep- I called you to get soda because I wanted soda.”[/b] [i]Maybe start asking for bottled water, or, like, spinach.[/i] He considered this for a second. Brendon was both extremely unhealthy and very fitness-focused- he worked out, ate relatively well, but he also dabbled quite comfortably in drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, and indulged in way too much sugar. Maybe Ryan had a point, but he didn’t much care.

[b]”I bought a $60,000 bottle of water, once,”[/b] He mentioned casually, glancing down in amusement at his plain can of Dr. Pepper. [b]”[i]Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani.[/i] It was, uh, encased in 24k gold and the bottle was, like, a sculpture based on artwork by this Italian artist- [i]Amedeo Clemente Modigliani.[/i]”[/b] Brendon finished off his can and left in on the balcony ledge before turning more directly towards Ryan. [b]”Mixed with 5mg of gold dust. Tasted like normal ass spring water. In my defence, I was high as a fucking kite when I bought it.”[/b] On that note, an example of his lavish and unhindered spending, he then challenged Ryan’s apparent declaration of friendship by asking whether he could cut his pay in half- and his assistant just smirked, knowing him enough by now to know this was entirely a joke. [i]Sure - then you can watch me wither away while I barely make rent every month. You live in a ridiculously expensive neighborhood, you know.[/i] Brendon nodded mournfully, wondering whether that was a geniune complaint, then pushing past it either way.

[i]Yes, sir.[/i] Brendon cocked an eyebrow, not used to that formality. What he currently had playing through his mind was by no means professional- and this might’ve been a problem if Brendon a) wasn’t bold as anything, b) has ever faced consequences for stepping out of line. Instead, because he was used to being immediately complied with out of wonder and fascination with the famous and geniune attraction to his rather angelic general presence and appearance, his hands moved and his fingers worked quickly to undo a few more buttons, only half-assing at playing it off as the heat. It was a relatively cool evening. Now slightly chilly, he beckoned Ryan inside with him and wasted no time in completing his mission. Flirting successfully was one of his numerous gifts- almost by birthright of being the offspring of somebody so globally known and internationally respected and feared. [i]No, not really.[/i] Thank fuck. Brendon’s mouth noticeably curved into a satisfied smirk.

[i]Just Trevor Reznik waiting on me. But he’s a creep.[/i] Brendon laughed more out of politeness, but then his eyes became a little darker again and his voice lowered noticeably. [b]”Sweet. But, seriously? Nobody expecting you? But you’re so...”[/b] He let his eyes travel Ryan up and down fleetingly but obviously and then searched for the right word. He didn’t find it- any word he conjured up wouldn’t fit. Brendon just knew he really wanted him. Absently, he clenched his jaw, then pressed his tongue against his cheek more in passing than suggestively. He wondered whether Ryan had caught on yet- surely he wasn’t that stupid to still think his was normal behaviour for Brendon. Well- this happened pretty frequently, so maybe it was normal. [i]Um, but, you know, I should probably go home, right? You should be asleep. I'm supposed to make sure you do healthy stuff like that, aren't I? Go to sleep before the sun comes up, at least.[/i] His nervousness was cute. But he was clearly in panic mode- Brendon quickly racked his brain for ways to calm him down.

[b]”I think you should stay,”[/b] He said softly, almost huskily, watching him through his eyelashes, hands moving back to his shirt to finish unbuttoning it. He then shrugged it slowly off his shoulders and held onto his left forearm with his right hand, smoothing it up and down over the ink on his upper arm. Evidently fearless, he took a few steps closer, tilting his head back to properly meet his eyes. Brendon’s stance was relaxed, his expression expectant, poised and inviting. He wondered how much more subtext Ryan required, and flicked his eyes over him again.