Brendon was finding new ways to piss him off all the time, whether he meant to or not, that was just the nature of their relationship. One of the worst Ryan had picked up on, though, was the way he tended to see right through him; Brendon was perceptive to all his dumb wants and desires and impulses, picked up on every shift in body language and day-to-day slip-up. It probably wouldn't bother anyone typically, because no one was as guarded as Ryan, but he spent his whole life hiding his true feelings on anything and everything. When he was that vulnerable to the person he despised most, the person he actually lamely brainstormed ways to drive crazy... yeah, it set him off a [i]little.[/i] Clearly the same case was here - Brendon was barely looking at him any way other than [i]knowingly[/i] apart from the occasional variations he incorporated, like when he imbued some tense heat into his expression, or there was underlying anger, so on. In any case, it frustrated Ryan to no end, made him feel naked and exposed and like he needed to leave even in this state. That's what he wanted, anyway: out.

It didn't feel so much like that when Brendon let his fingernails drag down Ryan's chest, though, when both of them had momentarily lost sense, or maybe Brendon was thinking and he knew he could use all of this against Ryan sometime later. That was enough to throw fuel into the flames of suspicion - with all of this, Brendon could do some serious damage, tell everyone Ryan had been the one to initiate a heated kiss between them, had been the one to come here in the first place, not to mention the hundreds of miles he'd traversed in order to get here. Not that anyone really gave a shit about their feud as much as them, but Ryan had jumped the gun, done all of this before breaking it off with Keltie... as much as he told himself that Keltie was probably with somene else already and they'd been done for a while, been dead for at least a month now, no one had ever said it definitively out loud. It wasn't fair. Still. He wasn't thinking about that enough to stop himself, not when he was just finding out how easily he and Brendon fit together, like puzzle pieces. Ryan didn't get that much.

He was, mostly by habit, looking for things he could throw back at him: the slight shine on his skin telltale of sweat, even though they'd barely done much yet, the occasional swell of his chest, the rise of hs body temperature. Ryan was responsible for all of that. He was proud of it, allowed himself the victory for a few moments, until Brendon was meeting his gaze with nothing but triumph to read, and he knew none of it was actually a win. He was still the one who came here, the one who started this twist in their usually much easier to navigate relationship (god, and he thought it was difficult before). Ryan knew what he'd usually do with the knowledge that Brendon had the upper hand. He'd do whatever he could to undo it, whatever was in his power to knock him back down, no regard to how much it hurt Brendon; now, though, he knew what he wanted from him, exactly like Brendon suspected. He could play stupid as much as he wanted, but it became simple once their lips first met. So he let Brendon have it and went right back to kissing him, furious and desperate and maybe a little more pathetic than he was used to being.

He registered Brendon's hand switching to hook in the collar of his shirt - that fucker was going to stretch out the neckline, he wasn't worth it, he wasn't, and still Ryan didn't shove or pull away - and his nails digging into his jutting hip, the way they instantly matched each other's energy almost laughable. Some people were meant to be lovers, yeah, but Ryan was pretty sure they were meant to be enemies, and this was a very strange way of expressing it. He swallowed down the noises Brendon made, nearly inaudible beneath the struggling white noise in his head, welcomed them with his own when their hips rocked gracelessly together. They were both clearly losing control and it was slightly worrying, Ryan overwhelmed by how it seemed like he couldn't get closer to him if he tried, didn't want to get away at all despite every resounding instinct to do exactly that. Had he not just sunk his teeth in or been tugging Brendon's hair nearly out, maybe this would feel romantic or passionate in a good way, Brendon's hand curled around the back of his neck, his own holding Brendon steadily close by his back. But that wasn't them, probably never would be.

Ryan tried to undo some of how far they'd gone, try to talk it away. Brendon didn't seem very receptive. [i]Can I remind you -[/i] Ryan winced, exhaling sharply at Brendon turning his own move on him, thumping his head back against the wall to try to save himself from the sting of too much hair-pulling. Seriously. Juvenile. [i]-that [/i]you [i]kissed [/i]me? Ryan scowled, narrowing his eyes at Brendon. [b]"Right, sure, and you didn't kiss back at [i]all.[/i] If I recall correctly, you were..."[/b] Ryan straightened, stretching out the meager couple of inches he had over Brendon, then tried to exaggerate the sounds he'd heard moments before - deeply overexaggerate, complete with his eyes rolling back until he stopped to add insult to injury. As per usual. [b]"[i]Oh, oh, Ryan...[/i] Yeah, fuck you."[/b] He continued trying to push the blame back onto Brendon, at least partially, when really. If he was using reason, he'd definitely just admit to himself who was at fault here, suck up his pride and not say it aloud.

[i]You saying you haven’t? You’d do anything to have me, wouldn’t you? Want me so bad.[/i] It wasn't like he was saying anything particularly seductive, but still Ryan's stomach turned uncomfortably, a reaction he desperately wished he could control. The words alone made his jaw set a little more tightly, frustrated that Brendon could do that, and he stared speechlessly back at his sneer until Brendon was pulling him down again, both open-mouthed and lusting. Ryan meant to do more damage, really, pull more or bite more or something, but instead his hands landed on Brendon's hips, fingernails digging into the bone with only firm pressure while Brendon's came to curl around his jaw. It was nearly easy, simple, something Ryan could get used to, and he leaned in to the touch - until Brendon was pulling back (Ryan's brain dumbly protesting [i]nonono[/i] against his better wishes), disentangling entirely. Ryan felt, melodramatically, a little cold, and he watched in confusion as Brendon composed himself again. [i]Happy birthday.[/i]

[i]What?[/i] No, fuck that, they weren't done, Ryan's mind had drifted a [i]lot[/i] and he didn't intend on letting it down, but. He was still frozen in place, feeling emptyhanded, almost drained. If Brendon wanted to go, then, fucking- whatever, just... except he didn't, because he paused, hesitated in a way that would've gone unnoticed if Ryan wasn't watching him so intently, and Ryan [i]knew[/i] it. He scowled, the flame reignited, and followed him at an uneasy pace, his footsteps drifting but sure in their direction nonetheless. He caught himself on the bedroom doorway, hanging on. [b]"What the [i]fuck,[/i]"[/b] he demanded, nonsensically, already continuing forward to shove at Brendon, trying to knock him back onto the mattress. [b]"You think that's [i]it?[/i] No, fuck you - you started this, too, so fucking finish."[/b] He moved closer until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he was leaning over Brendon, running his fingers through his hair roughly before he was kissing him again, both hands around his head. He pulled back slightly just to mock him - [b]"'[i]Happy birthday,[/i]' god, asshole,"[/b] - before continuing, one hand sliding down to grip his arm.