So, yeah, he’d made an ass out of his boyfriend at a party that he’d chosen to attend over going on an actual date with Ryan, taking the side of a group of people who were probably just hanging around him for the popularity points instead of the side of his boyfriend. He’d been drunk, but he had still consciously made the decision to completely brush him off and almost encourage his departure, when he could have been civil, nice, understanding, turned around and kissed him goodbye and asked him to text him when he got home. Yeah, his home, not Brendon’s apartment. Brendon had apparently ruined that by being so rude to him at the party. He wondered absently, his brain not fully focused, whether or not if he’d behaved differently- like a lover was supposed to- Ryan would have been here waiting for him and he could have just fallen asleep in his arms rather than be lying on his bed, alone, swearing at him and telling him to leave him alone and that he wasn’t welcome over the phone. It wasn’t ideal, and if Brendon had been sober he’d have forgiven Ryan and apologised for his own mistakes by now, but Brendon was intoxicated and he wasn’t exactly thinking logically. Enter Brendon, cussing up a storm down the line at someone who just wanted to make sure he was okay.

[i]There he is.[/i] Apparently his drunken aggravated state wasn’t enough to put Ryan off giving up and staying at home, because Ryan was at the doorway and then at the end of his bed. Brendon turned over, looking expertly sulky. Like he was moments away from just pouting and having a tantrum like a child. He scowled in contrast to Ryan’s smile and moved pointedly backwards as Ryan walked around to his nightstand, holding water and what he assumed to be painkillers. Brendon’s back was pressed against the headboard and his limbs drawn up close to his body, his legs bent, only half extended, and his arms crossed defiantly across his chest. He glowered at Ryan and only received a calm look and a cool tone in return. [i]I’ll go if you do as I say.[/i] Brendon paused, met his eyes for a long pause. That kind of language and tone triggered something in him and it always had- he was used to responding to requests, or more appropriately commands, from Ryan in particular, and he was moments away from doing so. But no. He was also an Aries, he was also pissed, and he was also drunk. Uniquely, those qualities took a step over his almost embarrassing submissiveness for once. 

[i]Deal?[/i] Brendon shook his head, adamant, but peculiarly he didn’t resist much when Ryan undid his sleeve clasps apart from attempting to weakly tug his hands away in turn. [b]”I know what you’re trying to do,”[/b] Brendon declared, almost triumphant, mostly accusatory. [b]”You’re trying to exploit whatever [i]power[/i] you think you have over me.”[/b] He was slurring, and probably didn’t make much sense, but in his head, he was a genius, a detective, he’d figured Ryan out. [b]”Well, for your fucking information, I wouldn’t do anything you asked me to if you paid me. The idea repulses me.”[/b] Brendon let out a noise close to a whine when Ryan then pulled him closer by the front of his shirt, but was too disorientated to actually physically protest. [i]I brought painkillers. Take them and finish that water.[/i] [b]“No.”[/b]Brendon glared at him defiantly as he started to unbutton his shirt, and for a moment he was confused. What was Ryan doing? He glanced down at Ryan’s hands as he worked quickly, thought absently about how nice his hands were and then pushed the thought away, then raised a curious eyebrow.

[i]And, I’m not letting you sleep in a full suit, so hold out a little longer, ‘kay?[/i] Brendon was stubbornly quiet, but didn’t have the energy to protest or pull away like he wanted to. Ryan had finished unbuttoning his shirt, he realised after a few seconds, and he automatically shrugged it off his shoulders, then collapsed onto his back so he was lying flat along the horizontal of his bed, and dropped the shirt unceremoniously off the opposite side onto the floor. Brendon then lay there, staring groggily at the ceiling, blinking because it was dark and he couldn’t really see. Ryan was sat on the bed near his feet and he lifted a leg and pressed a foot against his chest, pushing backwards as if trying to get him to go away. [b]”Leave me alone,”[/b] He muttered, fumbling to fold his arms behind his head. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, wondering whether it would be a good idea to stay in the bathroom all night, but then the nausea passed again and he just closed his eyes, dropping his foot back down.

[i]Did you really come home early because you missed me?[/i] Brendon lifted his head up to regard him, suspicious, and then he sat up, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed and chewing absently on his lip. [b]”If I knew you were fuckin’- gonna be such an ass about everything, fuck off home, I wouldn’t have bothered,”[/b] He said in a low voice, still slurring every now and then, clearly not able to string coherent sentences together anymore. [b]”I missed you, and I just wanted you to be here, and you- you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me you went home instead.”[/b] He went sullen, quiet, fidgeting and looking down at his hands before unsteadily rising from the bed and steadying himself against the nightstand before leaning over and picking up his shirt. Against the presumed wishes of Ryan, he wandered around to his bedroom door and leaned down to pick up his suit jacket, heading then over to his wardrobe and making a drunk, half-ass attempt at hanging them up, almost falling into the wardrobe in the process. [b]”It’s not like I didn’t care about the date. I got that suit just for it. I thought you’d like it. I just-“[/b] Brendon frowned. [b]”Whatever. Will you go away now?”[/b]