[i]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.[/i] Ryan arched back a little to regard him more seriously, his fingers still curled somewhat in the fabric of of Brendon's shirt. One minute hot, the next cold; yeah, sounded about right, but he hadn't expected it to be that simple. He'd expected at least 3-5 business days until he got some results on the 'calm Brendon down' project, and here he was, totally lucky. Ryan smiled real small, amused and pleased simultaneously, and was even more contented to see that Brendon was smiling back. Not for long, though. Apparently Brendon noticed that he'd changed moods too quickly and fixed himself, straightening to undo any measure of easing the air in the room that he'd made moments ago. Ryan forced himself to match his energy, trying to hide any of the laughter threatening his lips and tilting his head towards Brendon uncertainly.

[i]Doesn’t that make you a hooker?[/i] Even worse. Ryan's attempt at a flat expression fizzled for a moment, screwing up into a half-smile and half-bewildered face, while he couldn't decide whether he should snap at Brendon for that or laugh at it. Either way, he was just glad Brendon was taking himself a little less seriously, not arguing when Ryan raised reasonable points (but, was not arguing as good as making jokes? Probably not). [b]"Hey, hey, whoa, I wasn't sleeping with you for at [i]least[/i] a month there in the beginning,"[/b] he contested, then paused, hesitating. He lowered his voice to a level of realization. [b]"...Which I guess would just make me a bad hooker. Alright, shut up."[/b] So mostly he was bantering, yeah, and it was dangerous to get comfortable like that when at any moment Brendon could flip around and decide he wanted to be morose and sulky again, but. Fuck it. He took advantage of the funnier moments while he could. 

Brendon had more fighting spirit in him despite the brief moments of peace they caught; Ryan watched him dance around, a stumbly, stunning mess, and felt this faint ache in his chest alongside all the remorse choking him up. At this point it was a familiar swell, the same thing he felt when he saw Brendon unexpectedly in some online article in paparazzi photos, or when he saw Brendon standing before the fridge illuminated only by the artificial light while he chugged orange juice from the carton in the middle of the night, or when he could roll on his side in the morning and see Brendon still asleep and taking even breaths. Yeah, he hadn't quite put a name to it, but he liked it, coming at the most bizarre and most normal times, when Brendon wasn't doing [i]anything[/i] and yet it was still so endearing. Ryan was fond of him, to say the least. And although he felt terribly about the night already, watching Brendon winding down after it all made him feel a little better; fitting his hands around his narrow sides and holding him steady, close to him, seemed to tune everything else out. He smiled a little watching Brendon glance down at the gesture, evidently sated, all of his features softening. Funny, Ryan remembered moments ago he was complaing about something like going 'pliant and willing,' and now...

This drunk, Brendon wasn't as sneaky, and Ryan noted, dotingly, that he was fighting a smile, his face conflicting with his stubborn head. Whatever, Ryan could be patient. [i]Go away. I don’t- I don’t require your [/i]services. [i]You overcharge.[/i] There. A pause and he was smiling, not one of the big, world-stopping ones, but no less powerful; Ryan pursed his lips, one hand raising to run his thumb along the corner of his mouth affectionately. [b]"I feel like you don't mean that,"[/b] Ryan said, a humorous undertone to his voice, then quirked an eyebrow. [b]"Well. Except for maybe the last part. I'll have you know, I'm expensive as hell."[/b] Very unfitting topic of conversation, considering that after a few more moments he was navigating his words very carefully, apologizing and trying to reassure Brendon, the whole deal. He was used to the typical ice walk, and here they were; it seemed to be working, because Brendon suddenly looked a lot less at will, less focused and more flexible with whatever Ryan asked of him.

He thought maybe Brendon was finally going to drink the damn water, maybe even take the painkillers despite Ryan not asking outright quite yet, but he just spared a glance their way and nodded in the affirmative that he would eventually. Good enough for maybe any other time, but he'd been nearly sick a while ago and Ryan was still worried, so he was preparing to walk them back over to the bed when Brendon buried his head into his shoulder, seemingly forgetting everything he was cranky and sullen about this entire time. A bit surprised, Ryan curled a tentative hand around the back of his head, hesitating before he kissed his hair blindly and let his cheek rest against the top of Brendon's head. His weight was practically nothing, or if it wasn't Ryan would have gotten used to it by now anyway, so he swayed them a little, free hand sliding absently up and down Brendon's back to soothe him.

It was kind of worrying that he chose this over passing the hell out, given his state (but then Brendon was anything but predictable), so Ryan opened his mouth to ask if he was all right when Brendon spoke first. [i]I love you.[/i] Ryan smiled to himself, tender, hand still moving at an easy pace. [b]"I l-"[/b] He broke off, stilling completely, and pulled his head back, trying to see Brendon. [b]"What? What'd you..."[/b] Fucking Brendon, really. Choosing this time of all times to say that for the first time. Of [i]course.[/i] When they spent at least one night a week looking up at the stars, or otherwise someplace beautiful... this was how he... but, Ryan realized, it didn't really matter, because on reflex he was going to return the sentiment before the depth of what Brendon had said had reached him. Maybe it was the first time he'd said it to anyone, fuck. Ryan cradled his head more carefully, trying to level their gazes, kissing his forehead. [b]"I love [i]you[/i], Bren,"[/b] he answered, finally, his mouth curling into a grin again without his conscious control. [b]"And I [i]really[/i] hope you're not too drunk to remember that in the morning."[/b]