When Brendon actually thought about it, the idea of Ryan sitting around at his own birthday party, already drunk, and then deciding he wanted to go and see [i]Brendon[/i] of all people was hilarious in itself- but now it was out in the open that clearly Ryan’s subconscious had goals rather than just sitting around and stealing all of the drinks from his minifridge, it was a hundred times funnier. Sure, so, he found it difficult to even begin to believe that Ryan wasn’t entirely motivated by alcohol and drunken fantasies, at first, but somehow they’d ended up like this- wrapped around and with eachother amongst crumpled sheets on a surprisingly comfortable bed in a second-rate hotel in Seattle (the label paid for it, but they weren’t exactly lavish spenders). It was bizarre, and twenty four hours ago, if somebody had told him he would be sleeping with Ryan on the night of his 21st birthday, he’d have either laughed in their face or, like, mimed throwing up, funnt considering it was up in the air now that Brendon thought about such things much, much more than he cared to admit. Now that it had happened, he felt no sense of satisfaction; though an afterglow has settled in his bones and an alien affection for Ryan had gripped him by the throat out of nowhere, he didn’t feel fulfilled by one night, instead felt a drive for more, more, more, even as they were pressed together and exchanging frequent, uncharacteristically gentle kisses.

It wasn’t them, but it was, it really was, and as Ryan moved to bracket his hands around Brendon’s narrow waist, holding onto him tight and sure, Brendon felt safe and comfortable, two emotions he never expected to associate with Ryan. Similarly to Ryan, his head was being invaded by pesky fantasies, but less the ones he saved for nights alone- instead, he played with the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘ryan’ in his head and pondered the possibility for mere seconds before he shut himself down because that was ridiculous. One amazing night (well, considering they were both drunk) and one deeply and oddly affectionate morning didn’t equal the potential for a relationship when all of their past and consistent hatefulness was added to the equation. They were probably still just basking in the afterglow, Brendon convinced himself, even as he stared dotingly into Ryan’s honeycomb eyes, moved a hand to trail down his chest and concentrated briefly on the soreness he felt throughout his body in juxtaposition to that softness. It was an odd feeling, and one he was sharing with- he’d said it enough, but it was still shocking- [i]Ryan,[/i] of all people. He imagined Jon and Spencer’s faces if they ever found out. Which they wouldn’t. Unless Brendon and Ryan became anything serious. Which they wouldn’t. 

Anyway. Brendon wasn’t [i]completely[/i] smitten with Ryan even now, when they were tangled together and Ryan had just ordered them both waffles [i]and[/i] pancakes. He swiftly warned Ryan of pushing his luck- he might be in Brendon’s temporary good books at that moment, but Brendon was nothing if not wary and Ryan was nothing if not predictable. His pessisimistic side told him that this peace they’d found, this solace in Seattle, was temporary. But he tried not to thinks about it, half-heartedly warned Ryan not to be presumptuous about his place, and was then immediately won over by Ryan offering to make it up to him. Embarrassingly, he was on board right away. Brendon tilted his head and looked off into the distance as if to think, but was distracted when Ryan leaned in close against him and he turned his head just enough to catch him in a lecherous kiss on impulse. After that, he pulled back with a shaky, satisfied breath, and his eyelashes fluttered as Ryan started pressing painfully gentle kisses against his cheek. He needed words, couldn’t comprehend words. Luckily, he managed, drawing back so the sun was out of his eyes and freeing an arm to shield his face from the light streaming in through the open blinds. Ryan seemed reluctant- Brendon almost wondered whether he had any ideas about how to make it up to him already- but he was obedient, and that was all that mattered. [i]Sure.[/i]

[b]”Thank you, sweetheart,”[/b] Brendon mumbled, his voice rough and lilting from sleepiness. Though he had asked for Ryan to stand up, he still made an involuntarily whine of protest when he actually went to do so, reaching out as if to yank the comforter off of him and then thinking better of it, instead gently hanging onto the end and tugging it, playful, one eyebrow twitching mock-suggestively. He let go with a rush of air as a laugh, pressing his back against the cushions and waiting as Ryan wandered over to the curtains, wrapped in his shawl. What, was he shy? Brendon laughed to himself. [b]”What’s with the blanket? Can’t get all shy on me now.”[/b] He was still grinning as Ryan reached the window and shut both the blinds and the curtains. [i]But it made you look[/i] so [i]pretty. I’m almost grieving.[/i] [b][i]”Almost,”[/i][/b] He echoed. He looked at him pointedly even as he moved towards the minibar and turned on the kettle. [b]”I’m sure you’ll survive, somehow.”[/b]

As Ryan started messing around with mugs and cocoa and coffee, Brendon himself kicked off the sheets and sat up to readjust his position, shifting down the bed and then drawing the covers up so they were taught across his hips. He planted his elbows behind him into the cushions and when he tipped his head back, he could rest the crown of his head against the headboard. The whole motion was not fluid, but it was painful. Intoxicatingly so. [i]I'm making you hot chocolate. We should just start a list of my good deeds.[/i] Brendon lifted his head and opened one eye just to judge him before he rolled both and closed them again, his head thudding against the headboard. [b]”Does fucking your supposed arch nemesis while you’re still technically with your girlfriend count as a good deed?”[/b] It was in jest. Mostly. Brendon was trying to stifle a laugh even as Ryan started talking. [i]Remember we’ve got a show coming up?[/i] ...Unfortunately. Cursing, Brendon sat up straighter and pressing his back against the headboard, flinching as he did so. It had been a while, alright. [i]Are you gonna be able to, with, uh.[/i] Absolutely not. [i]Your ass?[/i] As if it were the most tragic thing in the world, Brendon grimaced.

[i]Every step is hell, over here. You might die.[/i] Experimental, he moved again, and this time he let out an involuntarily noise of pain, trailing it off into colourful curses. Not looking good. [b]”Whose fault is that, huh? Like, [i]jesus[/i], baby. You really had been thinking ‘bout that for a while.” [/b]He smirked, picking at the sheets. [b]”I’ve solved the mystery of Keltie staying with you, anyway.”[/b]