Yeah, the roles were usually reversed, and Ryan usually didn’t have a problem with it. Brendon was, most of the time, pretty entertaining when he was intoxicated. He wasn’t usually [i]messy[/i], with the stereotypical ‘drooling and dry heaving’ theatrics people always put on, but that’s just ‘cause he was used to drinking by now. Getting well and truly wasted took him a while. When he was far gone enough to be practically nonfunctional, though, Ryan was his caretaker, and he’d become an expert at it. First order of business was cutting Brendon off from the alcohol, which was hard to do if you were anyone but Ryan (he’d learned that all it took was a little aimless seduction). The rest was easy; Brendon weighed about as much as a basketball and was 5’8 at the absolute best, so he could basically be toted around to whereever he needed to be. And, as a bonus, drunk Brendon was usually charmed by Ryan carrying him.

His behavior in itself was almost predictable. He was just... Brendon, amped up to one thousand. Aries without limitations. Most of the pyrotechnics ideas from his show originated from drunk e-mails he managed to sneak to his stage manager without Ryan noticing (and he tended to bring the fire [i]out[/i] of his shows, too, annoyingly enough, when Ryan had to confiscate three lighters from a probably-flammable Brendon). Sober Brendon might be thirsty, but drunk Brendon was [i]thirsty,[/i] full of innuendos and wise suggestions as to what he and Ryan should do when they get home, or right there in public, ‘cause fuck it. Ryan decided to take it as a strange form of flattery, really. He was honored; that’s all he could tell Brendon whenever he ended up tucking him into bed - literally - and turning down all the invitations to extend the night. Wasn’t gonna take any risks with the guy who had a trash can for potential sick next to his bed. 

Anyway. Ryan was decidedly much worse at handling his alcohol. He felt like death risen, and every touch on his skin was simultaneously too much to bear and not enough to fulfill his sudden need to be comforted. [i]Not even water, darlin’? I bet you have a fuckin’ killer headache.[/i] As if it’d been reminded, Ryan’s head throbbed, the way it had throughout the night. He closed his eyes as Brendon’s hand ran through his hair, breathing out softly. [b]”If water will [i]fix[/i] me...”[/b] He cut himself off with the longest and somehow still least satisfying stretch of his life, coming away with his eyes red from rubbing them dry afterward. Fuck it - he was doomed to be this uncomfortable forever. Ryan gave in to what was evidently God’s will, for him to stay in bed all day unmoving, and curled up to Brendon, pitiful.

[i]Not quite. Though I am an angel. So you [/i]could [i]be in heaven.[/i] Clearly Ryan must still be feeling the effects, because he had enough affection in his hungover state to grin and reply, [b]”My angel.”[/b] Brendon kissed his cheek and Ryan turned his head, kissed his lips as if it were a response to the tiny gesture. [b]”Everything’s how I imagined it’d be in heaven... except I feel like actual shit.”[/b] Like he was genuinely disappointed in what the afterlife was, Ryan buried his face away in Brendon’s shoulder for a moment, recuperating. [i]What do you remember?[/i] Ryan hesitated. [b]”Zack telling me to [i]go away[/i], the fucker. And then... the cab ride. That’s it.”[/b] Zack telling him to go away because he was distracting Brendon, or whatever. Still couldn’t believe it. Guess it backfired on him later.

Helpless, Ryan slumped even further into him, demanding to be taken care of. [i]Gladly, Ryan, But.[/i] Ryan waited, realized he sounded serious, and lifted his head slightly until he could meet Brendon’s gaze. [i]We need to talk about last night, uh.[/i]  Worried, Ryan reluctantly sat back up at his prompting, wincing. [i]You said some really inappropriate shit about me during the ride from the bar back to the hotel.[/i] Oh. Ryan’s confused look didn’t waver at all. [i]Zack and the driver were there. You didn’t recognise me as me, or whatever, and started talking about, uh.[/i] Ryan squinted, lost, because what could he have done even vaguely ‘inappropriate’ - what’d that mean? But Brendon seemed almost- hurt, or something, so his expression was nothing short of grave concern. [b]”What- what? Was I mean? What happened?”[/b] He was automatically reaching for Brendon’s hand, assumptions jumping to the worst.