It was an unfortunate truth that maybe if they'd started off right, if Ryan hadn't aggressively jumped on Brendon just for his being in the band at all, maybe they'd be... a [i]lot[/i] different. Given the way they looked at each other when they thought no one would catch them, or the way at least Ryan wished Brendon was around when he wasn't there, they'd probably have even ended up in some kind of romance. Maybe fleeting, sure, because Ryan didn't know enough about Brendon's usual personality (that is, not aggravated and provoked like he was used to) to determine whether or not they were [i]actually[/i] compatible, but. He tried not to let himself think about it too much. Mostly because if anyone could read his mind, god forbid Brendon himself, it would be [i]mortifying.[/i] He'd basically built up a facet of his personality, a part of his identity, over hating Brendon and being the absolute best at pissing him off. Kind of a way of life, now.

So he kept himself away from that derailing train of thought and instead focused on how romance wasn't ever in the question, how they weren't [i]meant[/i] for that anyway, how all of this was only happening because... well. Ryan wasn't exactly welcoming of having any kind of attraction to Brendon, so obviously it was just a very bizarre outlet for all of the hateful energy between them. Obviously. And he was drunk. Even if he did remember tonight it'd be easy to pretend, everything would go back to normal, he'd never slip up again - and who was he kidding. They fit naturally even when usually they repelled each other, two like charges. This, in fact, felt more natural than anything when he didn't think too hard about how they usually were with each other, how if he was in a more sensible state he would have already stormed the hell out or even just not come in the first place, shun Brendon from the safety of his shitty birthday party. But this was how it was now: somehow every handhold he found seemed like a puzzle piece finding its match, and Brendon met every move he made with an equivalent energy and without hesitation, and he'd never felt quite that before. Ryan had no idea what to make of any of that. 

He was trying to gain a point of advantage somehow, look less weak for giving in to what had apparently been a desire for some time now, and Brendon didn't appreciate it, obviously annoyed by his efforts to talk it off. He dragged Ryan down and Ryan went surprisingly easy, catching himself with his arms barred one around Brendon's waist, the other beneath Brendon's arm and hand wrapped over the other shoulder. It was [i]almost[/i] an intimate picture, like a longing embrace, but Ryan was mocking him endlessly and was answered with Brendon lunging to latch onto his neck. Ryan tightened his hold on him more, knowing it was probably more reflective of their dynamic to pull away but letting his head drop to Brendon's shoulder anyway, exhaling sharply. It was painful, sure, but not enough for Ryan's drunk brain to register it as anything other than just another driving force, another thing to drive him crazy. 

In an unexpected turn, they were kissing moments later, almost calmly by their standards until they weren't and Ryan could physically feel the loss. And, he decided, it wasn't Brendon's decision to make whether or not they were doing this, so he practically chased him, the irritation making him itch. Ryan went after him, closing the distance quickly after Brendon had made such a smug and self-satisfied exit, shoving him back and trapping him against the edge of his hotel bed. Really - he'd never crossed a line quite [i]this[/i] far before, so there was an edge that wasn't just anger present, something more like anxiety or excitement or... something. Whatever it was, Ryan felt pretty invincible. In turn, Brendon made it easy, shaking his head rapidly when Ryan confronted him as if he was actually allowing him that authority. Ryan's natural scowl turned into a grin for a moment, almost amused by the shift in his countenance, exhilerated by the brief sense of control. 

You [i]started this, dickhead, [/i]you [i]fucking-[/i] What, what, Ryan was sick of playing, sick of accusations, and he shut Brendon up anyway, dragging him in until heir lips met again and the natural fit was at work once more. Ryan was losing focus on keeping his balance, leaning dangerously over Brendon gradually, until Brendon was pushing back, bringing himself back up fully onto the mattress and pulling Ryan with him. Unquestioningly Ryan came with him, his shirt's fabric barely stretching from Brendon's urging until he climbed over him obediently. Brendon's hand slipped beneath his shirt and Ryan shivered at the touch, unexpected, meeting his gaze while his hand spread to explore his sternum and the other tangled through his hair. Ryan was a little ahead of him, there, to be fair; he'd been the intruder bursting into Brendon's room when he was already shirtless. Well. Lucky him. He'd already travelled about every inch of skin available on Brendon these past few minutes. 

[i]What, I’m just being nice, birthday boy.[/i] Ryan slowed down, losing his focus, and let his head be tilted back, catching Brendon when he arched up and keeping him close for a few moments before pressing him back down. He pressed a hand against Brendon's chest, almost pinning him except that he inadvertently let his touch be more firm than it was aggressive, and ran his fingers through Brendon's hair without letting his nails scratch. The angry energy was still there, just. He couldn't pull it out, was suddenly gentler, more grounding. He shut his eyes tight, almost speaking against Brendon's mouth. [b]"If you wanted to be nice, you would have been there,"[/b] he murmured, then felt the embarrassment strike. He may as well have cried about Brendon not going to his party, whatever, right to his face. Maybe he would have come if Keltie bothered inviting him and- Keltie. Ryan didn't exactly [i]stop,[/i] still letting his body weight rest mostly on Brendon and his hands roam and his lips press wherever, but became more hesitant. He had a girlfriend, basically ex, but not quite. He nearly reminded Brendon. 

Instead, though, he was gradually losing the angry passion with which he went into this, almost... 'affectionate' might be a stretch, but definitely almost neutral, almost like he was with someone he never loved to hate. Ryan's no-longer-biting kisses trailed off towards Brendon's ear, slowing down, and he finally paused, exhaled. [b]"I still have a girlfriend,"[/b] he said, deadly quiet, and wasn't sure what to do about it for a long moment before he pushed himself up a little, unable to take his hands off of Brendon regardless. [b]"Barely. But."[/b]