It had been little over a month since Brendon and Ryan had mutually, albeit drunkenly, broke the metaphorical ice about the intensity between them that had they never directly addressed or dicussed. The evening had started with a melancholy, confused Ryan, struggling with the remnants of a critically failing relationship, staggering into Brendon’s hotel room in Seattle after flying from NYC from his own birthday party. Somehow, from Brendon’s own living nightmare, they ended up kissing, then they were on the bed, [i]still[/i] kissing, and Ryan confessed all of this shit that Brendon [i]definitely[/i] wasn’t planning on using against him at a later date. Then, [i]somehow,[/i] they had slept together (Brendon had liked to pretend he didn’t remember in the days afterwards, even though he limped everywhere for days afterwards, winded when he sat down, and looked away, flushing furiously when Ryan smirked at him and tried so desperately not laugh). Brendon intended it to be a one-time thing- at first, he hadn’t intended for it to be a thing at all- but, after Ryan found the guts to officially break up with Keltie, they were both single and both on the same page. So one time turned into two, then three, then four, and so on. They went at it like- for lack of a better phrase- rabbits. Well, it couldn’t exactly be described as [i]making love[/i].

They were friends, no, enemies with benefits, or whatever, and surprisingly, it worked out pretty well. Now, to defuse the situation after an argument and preventing themselves from throttling eachother, they beelined for the most simple and enjoyable solution they knew of. They argued noticeably less, and Jon and Spencer noticed that, but they had absolutely no idea why. And Brendon and Ryan had an unspoken oath to never tell anybody, especially not those two. That would ruin everything, the whole setup they had going on. Spencer would disapprove and look disappointed but not angry, Jon would clearly be surprised but probably wouldn’t have much to say other than maybe, ‘it’s better than them trying to kill eachother’. And then it would all be really awkward, and shake up the whole dynamic, and none of them wanted that. They’d become comfortable with a familiar routine- arguments between the frontman and the guitarist, tense and temporary truces between the frontman and the guitarist, pretending to get along on camera and on stage. It had worked so far- why fix something that wasn’t even broken? Oh, and, they hadn’t really tried to become friends, or tolerate eachother on any personal level. Both of them had he fleeting idea of what it would be like- but individually decided it was impossible. That was fine. Brendon couldn’t mourn a friendship that never existed. 

It had only barely been a month, and Brendon came to notice quickly that Ryan was surprisingly possessive. It had originally been Ryan using scarves to hide his hickeys, but now, Brendon had to cover his neck in makeup to try and conceal the marks that Ryan had intentionally left too high to cover with anything else. And no way in hell was he using a scarf. It was great, really, but everything was becoming a little too real for Brendon, who was worried the next step was being exclusive or something, or even attempting some kind of friendship. They weren’t technically exclusive, neither of them had brought it up or even really thought about it, but neither of them ever saw someone else, be it from lack of opportunity or lack of desire to do so. They fell into a semi-comfortable routine very quickly, and everything was great apart from the fact that Brendon was bruised, stiff, and aching all the time. On stage, he struggled between not visibly wincing and trying to use up as much energy as possibly, feeding off the adrenaline. Ryan noticed, of course he did, he sent him glances across the stage and Brendon could barely look at him. It was all so messy, they were so obvious, what were they doing?

Brendon didn’t have any regrets about the whole thing, but he was scared it was all starting to become much too real for him to be comfortable with it all- because it was [i]Ryan.[/i] What if they both got too attached in an unhealthy relationship based on equally strong amounts of hatred and wanton attraction? That wouldn’t work. So, in an effort to evade that happening, Brendon decided he was going to take Ryan’s advice from forever ago and start actually dating. He didn’t say anything to Ryan, obviously. It would not go down well. So, he started rejecting Ryan’s offers to hang out or whatever excuse he had this time, and went out, met people, specifically this one guy Ian who was cute, tall, curly brown hair... fuck. Oh well. They hit it off well, and, after no time at all, they were ‘boyfriends’. He used the term lightly. They were the same as Brendon and Ryan had been, except they actually enjoyed eachothers company when they weren’t undressed or intending to undress. Neither of them had told anyone, Brendon didn’t feel the need to- the guys would just all meet Ian, Brendon would say ‘hey, this is my boyfriend’, Jon and Spencer would greet him graciously, Ryan would- huh. What would ryan do?

He hadn’t spoken to Ryan about Ian even existing. But he’d started actively rejecting every advance with lame excuses. Luckily, Ryan was out a lot, and one evening Brendon decided to take Ian on board the tour bus to introduce him, all casual-like. Lucky them, nobody was on the bus, they settled on the couch and Brendon, ever the romantic, moved after mere minutes into Ian’s lap and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, kissing him lazily and carelessly because he kind of forgot they were in the main area of a bus shared between four guys. Well, Brendon didn’t forget. He just didn’t care. [b]”Baby, I don’t know if we have time for this,”[/b] He murmured into his ear, and just as he spoke, he heard the door open and internally groaned. They should goddamn knock. Maybe invent a system. Brendon punctuated it by giving Ian a firm kiss before turning his head around, breath immediately hitching. Fuck. Well. At least Brendon didn’t have to [i]tell [/i]Ryan anything. [b]”Oh, hey, buddy,”[/b] He grinned, shifting half-out of a very confused Ian’s lap but not fully committing, half expecting Ryan to leave. [i]”B, maybe you should-“[/i] [b]”Can we help you?”[/b]