True, so maybe Brendon could’ve easily asked for, like, extra chicken with his order, but it was too late to focus on the past now, he decided, however recent that past was. Besides, whenever Ryan was around and he [i]asked[/i] whether he wanted anything, he always said no. Apparently it so happened that it was this one particular instance where Brendon hadn’t bothered to order him anything was also the one instance where Ryan was actually [i]hungry.[/i] To be fair to Brendon, it took a lot of willpower for him to leave that tantalising last piece of chicken- it was, for Brendon and those who knew him, a grandiose expression of love and appreciation. Ryan was probably entitled to said chicken, anyway. It was his card that he sneakily noted down the details for, stole and used to order it. Brendon didn’t have much slack to complain with. My- damn[i] it, I knew I left one of my cards here.[/i] Lucky for Brendon, yeah. He shrugged casually and unapologetically because he knew Ryan didn’t have it in him to be mad for long- or at all- at him. It incited a real sense of power in Brendon to know that he could probably shatter Ryan’s kneecaps and steal all his belongings and Ryan would thank him for it- especially considering his supposed ‘rockstar’ status. Brendon had come to find he didn’t quite live up to such a heavy title; he was less ‘rock’ and more ‘small stone’ or ‘pebble’.

[i]Not sarcasm, not complaining.[/i] Brendon’s eyebrows lifted and dropped quickly. [b]“Yeah, I get enough of that from your entourage.”[/b] Eyeing the box sat on Ryan’s lap, he tried to conceal a smile and instead of showing on his mouth it burst out and shone through his eyes as they squinted up with amusement. [i]I’m truly grateful. I don’t know what I’d do without you, etc.[/i] As Brendon moved forwards to start rooting through the bags, he laughed, looking up at Ryan every so often, his attention endearingly divided between the expensive and lavish gifts piled on the sofa before him and the man sat a little further away who very arguably owned his ass. [b]”I know exactly what you’d do,”[/b] Brendon said, pausing to admire a printed shirt, [b]”You’d set out to flirt with some other poor, blindsided gay man, at a shitty bar downtown, but end up hiring him, much to his disappointment.”[/b] He trailed off there, thoughtful, losing focus, before he snapped himself back into it and moved a hand to drag back through his hair. [b]“Of course, he wouldn’t be as good as me. I saved your career, Ry. Never forget it.”[/b]

Okay, maybe not saved; and, come to think of it, not exactly revitalised, either. Ryan had been and still was incredibly famous- but he liked to think he’d polished him up a little at least. Brendon regarded him for a moment doubtful, but was distracted as soon as Ryan started rattling off random fashion trivia at random, apparently in order to impress. [i]You have! I also know that 'FW' means fashion week, and who J. Alexander is. Feels pretty good to be a parrot.[/i] Nodding along to humour him- mostly so he could attempt to focus on which item of clothing out of the ridiculous selection Ryan had gifted him to try on first. [b]”You’ve surpassed me already.”[/b] Brendon was no longer fully listening, because it was hard when there were so many things right in front of him that he desired to instantly wear all at once. However, when he did lift his gaze up from the large hill of shopping bags, Ryan caught his eye in the way only he really could and Brendon paused, tilting his head as if in anticipation of something. [i]I met you and decided that was impossible.[/i] Oh. Even if that was just teasing, it was sweet, and Brendon furiously looked back down and hoped the flush on his face wasn’t as obvious as it felt. [i]Today some interviewers showed me, like 'receipts' of how I look at you in photos, and it's bad, Brendon. [/i]Once he’d recovered and the pink dusting of colour on his cheekbones had more or less faded, he glanced up, curious. [b]”First of all, is that really all that gets brought up in your interviews these days? Second, man, I need someone to send me those fuckin’ photos so I can make fun of you. Love ya. Please don’t take my Gucci away.”[/b]

[i]Prepare for some unsavoury Instagram comments.[/i] Brendon knew for a fact that Ryan wasn’t kidding because his Instagram comments and messages were like some kind of online battleground, fought by three drastically different main armies; Ryan stans and the general public who thought Brendon was, to be frank, some kind of gold-digging whore; chaotic good people who shipped them together as some kind of golden couple despite no relationship ever having been confirmed or even directly hinted at by Brendon or Ryan; and those who discovered Brendon via Ryan but were now obsessed with Brendon and fell victim to every single thirst trap he ever posted. There were other denominations and subgroups, but those were the three Brendon saw the most. The former was, unfortunately, a significantly large proportion. He made a note to himself in his head to turn off comments for a while or something as damage control. [b]”Thanks for the heads up,”[/b] He said finally, but he was smiling, used to it all at this point. 

[i]Hotter?[/i] Almost startled by how quickly Ryan straightened up, Brendon broke out into a grin and nodded affirmatively, impressed and amused by his lightning quick reaction to a compliment- even more amusing because Brendon had seen Ryan he complimented by others many times before and in all those instances he just kind of withdrew, sheepish, unbelieving. Brendon spared him the embarrassment of pointing that out. [i]Okay. I'm totally cool enough on the outside to be a sugar daddy, thanks to my [/i]very [i]talented stylist, Brendon Blake.[/i] [b]”That’s better, thanks.”[/b] [i]So, where's my personality makeover? I need some neuroses concealed.[/i] Immediately, Brendon rolled his eyes. [b]”I’m your stylist, not your therapist. Don’t hold y’goddamn breath.”[/b] This was all good-natured, even when Ryan cursed his ears by using the phrase ‘sugar uncle’, which, in Brendon’s opinion, was an arrest-worthy crime. [i]Say what again? Sugar un...[/i] [b]”Oh, fuck off.”[/b] He winced, tightening his arms around his chest. Somehow, it was just so much worse than the original. 

[i]Either way, I eventually deserve some sugar in return, that's how it [/i]works. Sagely, Brendon nodded, smirking as he took the jacket from Ryan’s hands, fingers brushing against Ryan’s for a moment before he held it up to admire it. [b]”Sure, baby, just say the word,”[/b] He muttered, and looked up at Ryan from beneath his eyelashes. [b]”S’only fuckin’ fair.”[/b] At this point, he was way too enchanted with the jacket, that was probably worth more than his whole life, and that he shrugged on after another moment, tracing the appliqué on one of the sleeves, in awe. [i]I like it more on you. I knew it’d look good.[/i] Shut up, Ryan, god, you’re so sweet and boyishly charming and insufferably, tormentingly pretty. Brendon resented himself for reinventing his employer’s image so that he was literally his cookie cutter perfect man and then more. Much more. He was grinning when Ryan placed his hand on the shearling, and stared at his hand for a second before he curled his own hand deftly around his wrist and moved Ryan’s hand up to feel the material on the inside of his collar, as if to show him how soft it was further up where it made contact with the skin. He dropped his hands and then turned to search for a mirror somewhere, conveniently stopping in front of the one above the fancy decorative mantelpiece and fully checking himself out in the mirror.

[i]Did you know your ass is impossible to shop for?[/i] A pause. The corner of his mouth twitched. He slowly turned around. [b]”What?”[/b] [i]I made these employees who looked the same size as you try on jeans to figure it out, but no one came quite close.[/i] Laughing, he stared at Ryan with something akin to part disbelief, part delight. Mostly disbelief. [b]”Oh yeah? Is that a testament to me?”[/b] [i]Trust me! I’d know.[/i] Brendon was truly floored; which was strange, considering how stupidly obvious the two of them tended to be. [b]”You do, do you? I didn’t- I didn’t realise you payed some much attention, I gotta say.”[/b] Brendon bit his lip to suppress a smirk and twisted his fingers into the finer locks of the longest part of his hair and rugged slightly, thoughtful, distracted, flattered. He lifted the one pair of jeans he’d freed from the bags and held them up, eyebrows raised. [b]”So, uh, these are gonna- accentuate?”[/b]