Even though it would be a lie for Brendon to say he had never imagined him and Ryan in certain compromising situations before, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Brendon had never once considered not hating Ryan’s guts, not even for a moment; and definitely not for long enough so that they didn’t approach the morning after with an uncomfortable spite, and instead were in eachother’s arms, all soft, sunkissed skin (until moments ago when Ryan shut the blinds) and heat and Brendon’s eyes following and fingers tracing the scratches he’d left down Ryan’s back whenever he turned so that they were in view and within reach. He’d imagined Ryan in a lustful context but never one like this, where they’d be bantering, almost, Ryan laughing, the smirk plain and barely controlled on his face. It was still somehow surreal, felt unreal, even though he knew Ryan was flesh and blood and if he pressed his head against his chest he’d hear his heartbeat and grin as he felt it begin to speed up. [i]Well, I’m sober[/i] now, [i]so I guess we’ll have to try again.[/i] Brendon suppressed an outstandingly pleased smile. [b]”I suppose we’ll have to, but let’s see if you’re still willing when you’re sober [i]and[/i] not still enjoying the afterglow.”[/b]

He was kidding, but only a little- the truth was they were unstable as a duo of any kind and god knows what could happen between now and the opportunity for a ‘next time’. One of them could snap and throttle the other, or something. It was an unknown but Brendon sure enjoyed fantasising that the next time they’d encounter eachother alone that they’d both be relatively non-confrontational. The one thing he hadn’t quite seen as a success here was that now, because Ryan apparently wasn’t too gentle when he was drunk, he was in a considerable amount of pain and walking wouldn’t be possible for a while, let alone performing on stage. Oh well. Worth it. [i]I’m sure you’ll be okay.[/i] He so desperately wanted to whine and complain that he definitely wouldn’t be okay, Ryan had fucked up the whole show because he went too hard like a dumbass, but he also wasn’t quite ready to sink that low with Ryan yet. So he stayed quiet, just looked on. [i]On the bright side, when I’m sober, I remember the whole ‘aftercare’ part. I’m[/i] nice. Brendon cracked up, tilting his chin up to shake his head in disbelief at the ceiling. [b]”Oh, really?”[/b] He inquired, eyebrows lifting playfully. [b]”You’re sweet, are you? Could’ve done with that last night, y’know, when I totally didn’t have a huge fuckin’ show the next morning.” [/b]

Staying on that wavelength, Brendon then humiliatingly misread the signs that he thought Ryan was making and interpreted ‘what now’ as meaning ‘how should we pass the time until room service gets here’. To be be fair to Brendon, the last question he expected from his arch-nemesis (he still had the honour of that title whether they’d slept together or not) was ‘what now’ as in ‘what does this mean for us’. Brendon didn’t know the answer to the actual question Ryan was posing him because it was so vague and far-reaching and all he could do was kind of hover over Ryan for a few moments before he caught the look in his eyes, one of slight surprise, seeing that as discouragement and sheepishly backing off so he was sat beside him. It felt distant and strange considering how close they’d been over the past 24 hours, and he poked him in the side if only retain some contact, even the most meagre source. There was a beat of silence where Brendon looked Ryan once up and down for the seventieth time this morning and Ryan simply stared at him until Brendon averted his gaze and admitted that he didn’t think it was deep enough to warrant a ‘what now’ conversation. Not that he was totally opposed, but- it did make him recoil slightly at Ryan’s forwardness. He hadn’t expected it.

The silence extended past the point of ordinary and suddenly it was uncomfortable. Brendon desperately tried to decide which would be less obviously an escape route- going for a shower or going to the toilet- but then there were a few smart knocks on the door of the hotel room and Brendon thanked his lucky stars for the convenient timing of the breakfast delivery. His jaw went slightly slack as he watched Ryan stand up but he started scratching his neck totally inconspicuously when Ryan shrugged on the robe. He sighed deeply, resounding, once Ryan was out of immediate earshot, and shifted around a little, fixing the bedsheets best he could so it didn’t look as- well- damning. Clicking his tongue, he sat up straight and pressed his back against the headboard, watching quietly as Ryan brought in the cart. Admittedly, it looked, and smelled, delicious. For a second he really did forget about the awkward situation Ryan had put them in just moments before. Managing a genuine smile, he shifted aside to leave room for Ryan to sit down. When he placed the tray down considerately he was truly enamoured for a few seconds- that tended to happen with Brendon. [i]Check it. I call blueberry.[/i]

[b]“Fuck,”[/b] Brendon cursed, but stared at the spread for a few moments before he made his decision and grabbed a simple, humble sugary waffle. [b]”Fine. I call everything else.”[/b] He wasn’t as hung over as Ryan was he wasn’t craving sugary and unhealthy food, but still. This would ease the baby hangover that he was starting to feel the effects of. Absently while he took a bite out of the waffle, Brendon noted Ryan sitting down beside him. [i]And I think I've found our new tour costumes, whenever we rebrand. This is absolutely a look.[/i] Brendon laughed and dragged his attention away from Ryan’s exposed skin (somehow affected though they’d been fairly naked and lying with eachother for god knows how long now, he didn’t know what time it was), instead focusing intently on the waffle like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet. [b]”A look? You even [i]sound[/i] gay. How did you and Keltie even-“[/b] Hm, rethink that, Brendon. He ripped his waffle into many small pieces nervously.