Usually Brendon was easily won over. For somebody so used to getting his own way, with Ryan, he was uncharacteristically obedient, more likely to listen when he was spoken to. Mostly it was because he was gross. When Brendon was drunk, though, anything usually compelling him to listen and do as he was told was thrown out of the window in some bizarre perceived act of rebellion. Brendon proudly announced that he had Ryan ‘figured out’, all the while grudgingly allowing him to undo the clasps of his sleeves because he [i]was[/i] tired but this was a nice shirt, and even when he was drunk he had some appreciation for fine clothes (read: every piece of clothing he owned, save maybe Ryan’s assortment of hoodies and jerseys. Those held a different value). Apparently, Ryan found this amusing. Brendon was taking himself too seriously to notice. [i]Oh, yeah? What’s that?[/i] Taking it as a genuine question, he tilted his head and pursed his lips as if thinking deeply about it. Then he answered, announcing it with a sense of triumph, and Ryan evidently didn’t appreciate his perceptiveness.

[i]Brendon, what power am I supposed to have over you that I could exploit?[/i] He blinked, like it was obvious. [b]”You fuckin’ think you can just give me [i]commands[/i] and I’ll go all pliant and willing. [i]Well.[/i] You’re absolutely right,”[/b] He half-slurred, grinning- but that was literally the opposite energy that he wanted to convey here. So he straightened, tried to fix his mistake, cover it up. [i]You pay me. I’d say that puts you a few steps ahead of me.[/i] A pause, because that was true; Brendon paid Ryan to basically run his life, both personally and professionally at this point, [i]way[/i] too personally that was appropriate for an employer and their employee; but they were dating. Ryan was his boyfriend, Brendon was his. They had the kind of relationship that Brendon had never once in his life anticipated having. Even that sentiment wasn’t enough to stop Brendon blurting out the first thing that then came to his head as he thought about their whole financial situation. [b]”Doesn’t that make you a hooker?”[/b]

He had great timing, too, because Ryan was currently unbuttoning his shirt, but for once Brendon didn’t much care about it and made no attempt at some appropriately nasty joke- he just sat there and sulked like a champion until Ryan unfastened the last button of his shirt, and then he seemed to forget about his supposed appreciation for fine clothes and chucked his shirt over his shoulder off the bed, moving to lie on his back and then press his foot firmly against Ryan’s chest, using all of his strength (not much) to try and get him off the bed and prompt him to just leave him alone. It didn’t seem to work. Ryan just hung onto his ankle and Brendon yanked it out of his grip and drew his whole body up and back into a sitting position, regarding Ryan almost doubtfully, still wanting him to just go away and let Brendon pass out peacefully in his slacks and shoes. [i]I’m sorry, baby.[/i] Brendon huffed, full of scorn, and unsteadily rose to his feet, artfully dodging any gentle attempts at apologetic physical contact- he ignored the basic longing to just go back and let Ryan hold him and busied himself picking up his discarded suit pieces. 

Crossing his large bedroom, he reached the wardrobes and hung on, clumsily trying to fit the suit pieces onto the correct hangers and stubbornly going at it until his effort turned into something... functional. His scarlet suit hung rather sadly in the closet and Brendon shut the door with a sigh, turning around just as Ryan got to him, instantly reacting by stepping aside as if to move away. Brendon was too uncoordinated, though, and Ryan evidently had too much purpose now to give up and let Brendon stumble away like a child for the rest of the night until he passed out from exhaustion on the carpet or something. Brendon didn’t have the energy or fire in him right then to resist when Ryan fit his hands over his hips- he just looked down, blinked slowly as Ryan ran his thumbs along the sharp lines, then looked up from under his eyelashes at his boyfriend, suddenly feeling less like he wanted to protest and more like he wanted to curl up in his arms and go to sleep. [i]I did like it.[/i] Brendon supposed he could forgive him now- but he was still the expert at sulking, and he needed to maintain his reputation, so he tried his hardest not to return Ryan’s smile. [b]”Go away. I don’t- I don’t require your [i]services.[/i] You overcharge.”[/b] Brendon was trying not to grin. He gave up quite fast, and then offered him a sheepish, sleepy smile. 

[i]I’m sorry. I should have been there, then, but. I’m here now, okay?[/i] He felt a sense of comfort and warmth settle in his chest. Ryan was here now, what else mattered? He wanted Ryan to be here always. Brendon was dazed, suddenly, by the intensity of his emotions. [i]I just wanna be sure you’re all right. [/i] He nodded, closed his eyes as Ryan kissed his cheek. [i]So I needyou to drink some water for me. Yeah? Will you do that?[/i] Another pause, and Brendon glanced over to the nightstand at the glass of water, and the painkillers, and after a second he seemed to give in, nodding. But he didn’t actually [i]do[/i] anything, just buried his head into the crook of Ryan’s shoulder and leaned against him, apparently too tired to support himself anymore. He exhaled, content, murmured into his shoulder. [b]”I love you.”[/b]