After a show, there always tended to be the same familiar routine that the band rhythmically went through; they hung around backstage for a bit, thanking the staff and making sure everything went okay, and then they all filed out in a loose formation towards the tour bus at different speeds. Usually, the last one aboard was Brendon. This time, thus taking a step towards proving this generalisation, it was Brendon, which gave Ryan a chance to chastise him after what had otherwise been a relatively incident-free night- sure, Brendon had taunted him onstage, but that was routine at this point; Ryan had learned, much to Brendon’s disappointment, to tune out when he launched into his dramatic performance, his over-the-top speech about ‘sweaty, angry, frenzied fucking’ which involved Ryan much more than the guitarist probably would have liked. But that’s why it was so fun- watching Ryan trying to control his temper and concentrate on playing. 

Anyway, from the tour bus, there could be a deviation from the usual path. If they had a hotel, the driver would take them there, but that was a luxury- usually, they slept in their bunks in the tour bus. The same was true that night. When Brendon walked on, Jon and Spencer were lingering in the cramped lounge area, nursing drinks already, but there was no sign of Ryan- Brendon looked around the corner towards the bunks and he saw Ryan’s legs sticking out from his. He blinked and turned to Jon, who, along with Spencer, hadn’t gotten changed, so he came to the natural conclusion that they were going for some after-show celebration, even though that hadn’t even been their best show, it wasn’t even the end of the leg or the last show in the state or anything. Brendon figured it was just an excuse to go out, and he respected that. Still, he grinned, raised his eyebrows, and Jon spoke before he could. [i]“We’re gonna check the night scene around here, you down?”[/i]

[b]”I’m getting too old for going out after shows, man,”[/b] Brendon laughed, reaching up to comb his fingers through his disheveled hair. Jon was older than him, but whatever. Besides, it wasn’t even true- he just felt like getting on a certain someone’s nerves tonight, because winding Ryan up was- well, not a [i]new[/i] favourite pastime. But a consistent one. Spencer looked a little disappointed. [i]”You’re not even a year older than me, fucker. What do you mean, old?”[/i] Another laugh. [b]”The stress of fame.... Has aged me rapidly. I found a fucking grey hair, honestly, dude- and I’m in my [i]twenties.[/i], but, like, physically, I’m fifty.”[/b] This was a lie. He was eighteen at heart and head and 24 only technically.

Spencer and Jon seemed to catch on that he just wasn’t that keen, though, and gave up at exactly the same time, Jon just lifting his drink and then taking a sip and Spencer just shrugging disinterestedly, bored of Brendon’s ‘charming’ bullshitting. Brendon clicked his tongue and weaves his way inbetween the bunks, stopping at his, which was a bottom bunk and directly across from Ryan’s. Ryan folded his legs up to let him pass, not even looking at him as he did so- he was reading something, what, Brendon didn’t know. Probably something pretentious. He desperately wanted to goad him about it, but- if his plan was going to work, he’d have to be more nonchalant. So, he ignored him completely, to what he imagined was a mixture of Ryan’s disappointment and surprise- and sat down on his bunk, pulling his shirt over his head before he’d even settled onto the sheets. 

He tossed it onto the mattress and then searched around amongst his things for deodorant, which he generously used- then he tossed that aside, undid the buttons and unzipped the zipper of his jeans, before standing up to start inching them down his hips. But, he just- left them like that, the waistband of his underwear visible, and stretched his arms above his head, muscles contracting as he clung onto the top bunk in order to extend his body, which was still running chiefly on adrenaline from the show. It was embarrassingly obvious, shameless, but only Ryan would know that. Jon and Spencer would just think ‘hey, it’s a Brendon thing. He does that’.

Blatant showcasing of his shirtless form aside, he then turned around, facing away from Ryan, and finally pushed them down his hips- the denim caught but then slid down and he stepped out of them, letting them crumple into a pile with his shirt. It would be obvious at this point to those who didn’t know him that he didn’t have any, uh. Self esteem issues.

When he turned back around, he caught Ryan’s eye, his hips kind of propped up at an angle, his arms again outstretched above his head because this bus was extremely fucking cramped, even for somebody so little. Though there was nothing teasing about his gaze- in fact, he just let his eyes pass over Ryan, like he was barely even there.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to Ryan but when the guitarist stood up and weaved past him stiffly, Brendon knew he’d gotten somewhere already. [i]You coming with us, Ry?[/i] He heard Spencer ask. There was a pause. [i]I guess it’s just us then, Spence.[/i] 

Interesting. Ryan wasn’t going. Maybe he was too invested in his book... Ha, yeah. Brendon was grinning so hard that he had to force himself to stop before he appeared in front of his three band members, still wearing very little. Spencer and Jon were completely unfazed. Ryan, who had sat down, shifted- Brendon could see it from out of his peripheral. [i]Yeah, I’m, uh. Tired.[/i] Mhm. [b]”Don’t be back too late, I gotta get my beauty sleep and don’t need you, like, accidentally getting into my bunk with me at 2am.”[/b]