Brendon was lucky enough so far to only be a member of the tour crew, and not at all to do with creative sides of things of even the show itself (and that would never change, no matter what how much the stupid amount was that Ryan decided to up his salary by), so he didn’t have to deal with any [i]real[/i] stress; in fact, the most pressure he’d felt was literally today, and it wasn’t even to do with the tour itself. Ryan had tried to creep out of the door with his hair an unkempt mess and in a [i]hoodie[/i]- Brendon had seized him just in time and dragged him back inside, resting his back against and guarding the closed front door, waiting patiently as Ryan sheepishly slunk away. Once Ryan presented himself in front of the judge (Brendon), and he was approved for appearing in public, he left, and Brendon found himself wishing that he’d maybe been more picky, gone and fussed over his hair trying to perfect it further somehow, pulled together a whole different outfit- but by the time the door shut behind Ryan, Brendon found he missed him already and felt daunted and exhausted with the prospect of having to entertain himself for the entire day. He supposed at one point he could head out somewhere, but a) he didn’t have much money (payday came after tour) and b) it just wasn’t as fun without Ryan around. So, he remained inside, pacing around the hotel room like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

Looking on the brightside, it was arguably more enjoyable to be stuck and bored in a luxury hotel room than it was to be at some questionable radio station or photo studio and have to answer borderline innapropriate questions that every just expected you to answer. Ryan had mentioned some of the more bizarre and invasive questions, and the ones that tended to always come up we’re about Ryan’s dad, Ryan’s family and then, naturally, Ryan’s love life- or apparently lack thereof. Suspicions were raised by everyone about Brendon, who was constantly caught in paparazzi photos at Ryan’s side like a faithful puppy dog. Looking at some of the pictures was very telling, and Brendon always thought yeah, I could see why people would think that. Yeah, I mean, if I imagine myself with him, it’s not too far a reach for others to think they were something over than acquaintances/friends/professionals. He didn’t mind as much as he thought he might- in fact, secretly, he savoured the attention- but he felt bad for Ryan, who was now basically public property and he supposed he had been for a long time. Even so, recently it’d been getting even more crazy, his popularity; Brendon tried not to credit himself out loud, but his new look and the band’s new style was definitely doing them all favours. It was okay, he sang himself his own praises and looked proudly on at his pet project from afar. 

More than friends or not, Brendon and Ryan were close and everything was so easy now between them, evident in that neither of them thought twice about sharing a room even though the label could easily afford to buy them all separate ones and allow some peace and quiet. Apparently an experience with Ryan wasn’t one that could be matched elsewhere so Brendon, according to brand, stayed faithfully close and by his side everywhere, they had each other’s backs at this point. Save for maybe where it came to food. In fairness to Brendon, whenever he usually ordered takeout, Ryan never usually even wanted anything. And then ended up stealing things from his plate like an ass. So, to stop him complaining too much, he left him a single chicken wing, which happened to be the largest one from the batch, [i]actually.[/i] Ryan didn’t seem as appreciative as Brendon would’ve expected. [i]Thank[/i] you [i]for saving some.[/i] As Ryan revealed the chicken wing and began to pick at it, Brendon grinned and offered a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. [b]”You’re very welcome.”[/b] [i]Very generous.[/i] He nodded dutifully, eyeing Ryan as he took bites from the wing. [b]”That better not be sarcasm. I spent [i]your[/i] hard-earned money on that chicken, Rowe. Don’t complain.”[/b] At least he was honest.

Speaking of Ryan’s hard-earned cash, and on the topic of generosity, it seemed that Ryan had spent part of his day going [i]shopping[/i], which was the most baffling image Brendon could have ever conjured up. [i]A little.[/i] Brendon smiled as he imagined him wandering into clearly high end stores and being recognised, shop assistants rushing to help him or hanging back, in awe. He imagined him actually thinking about what looked good on him, maybe adhering to Brendon’s quite strict ‘recommendations’ (orders). As he found out, though, Ryan hadn’t even gone for himself. All of this- and it only just sunk in- was for Brendon. He almost didn’t believe it. [i]Dead.[/i] Already grinning, it widened until his eyes crinkled up and still glittered and flashed with a cocktail of disbelief and anticipation, almost nervousness. It was all expensive stuff, clearly, but Ryan didn’t have a great fashion track record. Brendon hoped the route he’d gone down fashion-wise wasn’t too off target. He began to root through the bags simply to register the prestigious names emblazoned on the sides. [i]Is that still cool? I thought Gucci lost traction, but apparently it's back.[/i] [b]”Wow, look at you, fashion expert. I’ve taught you well. What happened to trying to seem straight?”[/b] A pause, and he pulled out at random some armani jeans. [i]Armani jeans. [/i]Brendon shook his head, still in disbelief, and laid them out gingerly across the back of the sofa. 

[i]Debatable.[/i] How so? Well. He supposed it didn’t really count if Brendon wasn’t actually giving him any sugar in return. It was more like a charity solely for Brendon and solely clothes for Brendon. [i]I’m not cool enough to be a sugar daddy.[/i] Brendon was half-listening, because he was still rummaging through, not really knowing where to start- but he raised his eyebrows anyway. [b]”I didn’t make you ten times hotter for you to start calling yourself ‘not cool’. That’s not just self depreciating- that’s [i]me[/i] depreciating.”[/b] [i]Maybe a sugar uncle.[/i] Appalled, Brendon quickly withdrew and pulled his arms right around his chest in mock defensiveness. [b]”God, never say that again,”[/b] He exhaled, shivering. [b]”I feel violated. [i]Sugar uncle.[/i] Gross.”[/b] Brendon was still grimacing about that choice of words when Ryan stood up and walked over, bending to apparently look for something in particular. He stepped quickly to the side to allow him room. [i]There's a, like, jean jacket in there that's really cool. But... if the gay rumors weren't already really bad, they'll be worse now since I got caught buying it.[/i] Interesting. Brendon loved it already and he had no idea what it was going to look like.

[i]Here. See? Floral. Only you can get away with that.[/i] Like saucers, his eyes widened and shined as said jacket was revealed from the back- it was light blue but embroidered with a floral and butterfly pattern and Brendon was instantly in love. He rolled the sleeves of Ryan’s oversized hoodie up his arms and freed the jacket from Ryan’s hands, drawing his fingers across the shearling lovingly and biting his lip. [b]”Jesus. Ryan, I love it. [i]Fuck,”[/i][/b] He swore, shrugging it with some difficult over the hoodie and turning to face his new apparent sugar uncle, [b]”You’re the fuckin’ best.”[/b]