Neve

seated and sweating || b&r

Though Brendon knew and was perfectly fine with the fact that he was in love with Ryan and always had been, he wasn’t exactly ready to fully combine their lives again- even if their inner circles had once been one, and had just split and grew when they had broken apart, just acting like nothing had ever happened wouldn’t go down well with anyone. Brendon dreaded to think how Spencer would react, but he wasn’t sure why; Spencer and Ryan had been best friends since childhood, then Brendon came along and kind of usurped the title from him, taking Spencer away upon the breakup. Knowing Spencer, he’d try and make it as easy as possible and he and Ryan would click again almost instantly. Though that was kind of what Brendon was afraid of- bringing people back together, and then there being on the horizon a chance that Brendon would freak out again and call it all off, or it just wouldn’t work out. Friendships would sever again inevitably and Brendon would feel at fault. He didn’t like having it all on his conscience.

That said, he wasn’t sure now whether he could bear spending much time away from Ryan again, because they seemed kind of one entity- both literally and physically, they were so close together. Brendon’s thoughts were occupied by all manner of things but all linked back to Ryan- one of those trains of thought being which bedrooms in Gabe’s house were least likely to be used and furthest away from other people. But then he realised that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea- they’d fall asleep and Gabe would find them in the morning (they kind of had a sixth sense for drama and turning up at the worst times for other people), and that would be kind of embarrassing for future slightly hungover them- even Brendon, who sometimes appeared to be practically shameless.

No matter how he came across, the belief that he was beyond embarrassment was entirely false, because when Ryan decidedly went down the route of leaving a bruise high on his neck he had tensed for a moment and considering asking him to stop. With that, he’d have no chance of explaining his absence to his bandmates, unless he dodged around the question of his company after he ditched Spencer and Dallon. His head immediately went to Gabe, but Spencer and Dallon weren’t stupid. They knew Brendon, he didn’t move on from things that quickly, and even if he did, he wouldn’t go about it like that. Brendon was effectively doomed to interrogation and then mockery. Fun. After several milliseconds of doubt he silenced his thoughts, though, because he knew that the mark would stay and Ryan wouldn’t be able to and this would be his reminder. Ryan finished his endeavour and turned up Brendon’s collar in a half-assed effort to hide it, and Brendon laughed a little, but he was really thinking about the familiar purple and red against the canvas of his pale, lightly freckled skin. Thought you’d see it later and think of me.

”Good thinking,” He offered, bringing a hand up to trace over it and then move his hand to curl around Ryan’s side again, ”But if you think I’m gonna need any prompting to think about you, you’re very wrong.” It was true. Ryan would be in his head perpetually after so long of forcing himself to forget how he kissed, the sound of his voice when he was sleepy, the colour of his eyes when the light levels were just right, how his hair went curly when it grew long enough, his presence beside Brendon in bed, his laugh, the smile he so often tried to hide. God, he was weak. I love you. He was close to replying with ‘I know’ like some Star Wars nerd, but he was captivated anyway and couldn’t actually words or even sentences. He just let Ryan kiss him until he regained the ability.

I know what you mean. Oh, good. Wasn’t just him. And you just keep givon my me reasons to love you more. Brendon laughed softly, raising a playfully questioning eyebrow and pressing a kiss against his jaw. ”Like what, baby?” Not allowing a reply, moments later they were melting into a kiss again, eyelids falling shut easily as he held himself as close as was possible, then when oxygen was unfortunately required, he chased him in vain, hands tight at Ryan’s hips. I could listen forever. Doubtful, But a sweet sentiment. I love you so much. Brendon smiled, feeling a hand drop to join Ryan’s other one down at the small of his back. ”Aw, you’re all flushed. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” He grinned, nudging his foot with his own as if to edge him on to get the joke.

I don't know how we survived. Actually - I think I died and you brought me back to life tonight. Brendon leaned up again to the side of Ryan’s neck and found his pulse, pressing his lips against it and feeling it thrum with decent speed. ”You’re definitely alive now. Sound like you’ve sprinted somewhere, though. That my doing?”

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

Situations like this usually followed a set pattern- Brendon tended to initiate (he was the more forward out of the two of them), Ryan tended to seem hesitant but actually probably be the more eager out of the two of them (just with less driving force), and more often than not it ended up in bed and they slept in, because nothing else particularly mattered when they were together. This, though, was different; they were both kind of navigating troubled waters, Brendon pissed but simultaneously attention and touch starved, Ryan adamantly sticking to his own side but desperately wanting the pettiness and bitterness to be over so they could go back to normal them. Just minutes ago, Brendon had been legitimately hurt and angry enough that he wanted to switch rooms and couldn’t stand the thought of having to remain in the same room for an entire evening, night and morning. Now, he was considering leaving more for making a statement and to prevent a repeat situation on future shows. Ryan had also been uncooperative until now, and was probably the more motivated out of the two of them to reconciliate.

It would have been pretty easy- apologies, a kiss like Brendon wanted- but unfortunately he didn’t like finding the easy way out of things and, being just a little melodramatic, he seemed to be subconsciously drawing it out into more than it had to be. Not that he hadn’t overreacted in the first place anyway. Anyhow, it was apparent that Brendon wasn’t about to just drop it- but likely confusingly for Ryan, he changed topics, talking about how sweaty he was for some reason. Attractive. But it was all for a reason; he then reached down casually to unbuckle and remove his belt, letting it clatter to the floor in the tense silence. Ryan looked a little shellshocked and it was Brendon’s turn to try and suppress a grin- he was about to make some excuse about wanting to cool down and then shower, but honestly he was pretty sure he’d just get hotter because his temperate was already rising from the way Ryan was looking at him.

This was all he had wanted. This kind of attention on stage, this kind of reaction when he took off his shirt- Sure, it was an old trick (Brendon could take off his own shirt amazingly quickly), but he wished Ryan was still as affected by it as when he first started doing it. Alas, even Ryan, whom Brendon thought to be pretty easy, could grow to not be phased by such a sight. If he tried to think it through, he’d probably understand, but Brendon wasn’t patient enough to give opposing views the time of day even in his head and continued to be bitter about it. Brendon moved a hand down to his zipper just as Ryan stepped closer and drifted a hand to his waist. Feeling his chest tighten at the contact he had been missing all day, he flashed a smile and them remembered he was supposed to be angry. I’m sure. Another hands against his back, and Brendon tried to straighten, having noticed that suddenly Ryan was standing much more confidently, hips hitting forward, even if every touch was fraught with obvious apprehension, like he was afraid of setting Brendon off again.

No, I’m sure. Just, you believe me, right? I was never being an asshole on purpose. I really am sorry, baby. Admittedly, he was pleasantly surprised but still doubtful that Ryan actually would go along with what he was so shortsightedly promising. Every time he’d asked, he’d said something like I’d slip and die (understandable) I’d be way too vulnerable (Brendon had seen Ryan sans clothing numerous times before, what was his point) or showers are where you get clean (having two showers isn’t a crime the last time Brendon checked)- so now Ryan had actually suggested it himself you could forgive him for not holding on to too much hope even so. ”Yeah, I know,” He said kind of reluctantly, because it wasn’t like his bitterness had just dissipated into thin air. ”I know you wouldn’t and I know you are.” Ryan leaned in to kiss his forehead and Brendon closed his eyes briefly, savouring it and staying silent only to keep the facade of being annoyed beyond reconciliation alive.

And I think I prefer my days mostly revolving around you like they usually do. Life’s kinda lackluster otherwise. ”I’d say stop kissing my ass, but actually, keep talking.” He replied, raising an eyebrow, about to speak again when suddenly Ryan’s hand was down at his zipper and he had hooked a finger in Brendon’s waistband, drawing him closer, and Brendon was again finding it tremendously difficult to stay actually angry. Like I said- I won’t, if you’re mad. Of course he didn’t, but he planned on milking ‘striving for forgiveness in any way’ Ryan as much as possible. ”And I’m defintrly not getting ignored, but you know what would make He absolutely positive?” Brendon tilted his head and leaned in, speaking close to his ear in a hushed but lax tone of voice, speaking with rather flowering detail before moving back and pulling the zip down, stepping away.

”That would be ideal. But, I feel like I’m still kind of bitter. I’ll talk to you after my shower, Ry.” He said, almost casually, not bothering to stop himself from grinning smugly. He then whirled around and did step out of his jeans, expecting Ryan to still be there when he turned around because although he sounded serious, he was joking. Brendon thought he knew that.

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

Brendon really was used to different levels of attention and affection that what he was (or rather, wasn’t) subjected to that day. In the morning, when they had both got out of bed without a word, Brendon kind of silently asking Ryan where his kiss was, and his mind wandered to fond memories of regular mornings, where they would either wake up hours before they had to do anything and fill the time very creatively (more often than not in the same way), or they woke up late and stayed in bed anyway because nothing really mattered in their own little world, either under sheets and tangled together or just lying side by side when it was too hot to get closer but they still wanted to be close. Both were perfectly happy sitting in silence with eachother if the occasion called- because Brendon knew all he had to do was lean over slightly and Ryan would mostly catch on and kiss him. It was simply, really— all he asked for was a little appreciation, and though he couldn’t deny that usually Ryan was sufficiently doting, on days like this when he barely acknowledged Brendon, he perhaps took it too seriously.

They were on tour, yes, but in the past, that had changed nothing. Every time the two of them became more efficient at making the most of their short periods of alone time together, but as the band grew in popularity and attention, the amount of shows increased and free time dwindled. Even when there was moments to catch their breath, other people tended to be present. All that considered, maybe he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about Ryan’s actions- but Brendon was impulsive, made accusations before he thought them through, and was very easily touch starved. He was kind of strange in that there were hundreds of people practically screaming his name and it didn’t really matter because there was only one person he really wanted that from. And that was an example of how his mind drifted completely off topic sometimes even during a show, drowning in multicoloured stage lights and sweating his ass off in the same leather pants he wore for every single show for the last two large tours.

So, although he was still pissed, Brendon couldn’t help feel a little better when Ryan pressed his hand against his chest- luckily he tended to be a good actor and managed to look like he was tolerating it, but he was unimpressed. Instead of telling him to go away like he told himself he wanted to, he went on a tangent about something that was so long-winded by the end he couldn’t even remember what he was talking about in the first place. His kind, again, was elsewhere. Very sure. I’ll hear you out. That response was the last thing he ever expected- in fact, he had braced himself to just get a ‘fine, go then’, but apparently Ryan really did want him to stay and Brendon, again, felt himself soften a little because he wasn’t built or meant for picking fights. Brendon, though fiery, was passionate in that he was chiefly a lover, barely a fighter. ”Sweet.”

Still, he had the upper hand and he didn’t just want to forgive and forget immediately, so when Ryan tried the suggestive route (that sounded suspiciously like a business transaction but Brendon didn’t much care if it meant he got what he wanted), he hesitated and forced himself not to jump to the proposal right away. Inhaling and exhaling, he forced himself to look away from Ryan (he was so damn pretty, his hair was getting longer again and his eyes made Brendon weak, he was a hard man to resist) and turned towards the shower with painfully obvious reluctance. There were a million things he’d rather be doing and all involved Ryan- Okay, one thing, and it was Ryan. ”Yeah, uh. Sweating like hell. It’s these damn pants,” He said absently, reaching down to start unbuckling his belt while looking pointedly from Ryan, to the door, back to Ryan.

Okay. He said that, but Brendon didn’t see any movement. He slipped his belt off and dropped it on the floor, before crossing his arms loosely across his chest and raising an expectant eyebrow. I’ll join you, then. Brendon’s eyes widened immediately because that was the last thing he expected even when Ryan promised he’d make up for everything Brendon said he’d done- but he wasn’t about to complain, just watched, a little dumbfounded, as Ryan shrugged off his jacket. Awfully bold of him to assume that Brendon would survive such an experience. He felt himself heating up again and his arms dropped to hang at his sides, his hands almost itching. ”I-“ If that's alright with you, I mean. I won't if you're mad. Of course it was alright with him, he’d been trying to convince Ryan to shower with him for forever. Ryan’s past adamant refusal meant he kind of expected Ryan to back out pretty quickly, so he jumped on the opportunity before the window closed.

”You sure?” He asked finally, stepping close again, running a hand through his hair, aware again of their height difference but this time it made his breath shorten. It was a mystery as to why Ryan was always labelled the easy one out of the two of them- Brendon was just perpetually weak. ”We can just wait til after I shower, and-“ It hit him suddenly that he was still kind of annoyed and the petty part of him told him to refuse because it was only a method to try and butter up to him, not sudden newfound enthusiasm. Pausing, Brendon reached down to the zipper of his jeans, taking his attention away from Ryan and letting his husband decide what he wanted to do. He came very close to just telling Ryan to go away.

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

By now, Brendon was aware of his own overreaction, but he couldn’t prevent himself from still feeling neglected, and with Ryan’s response only being to practically laugh in his face, he still wasn’t feeling great and wasn’t about to apologise. Maybe the smile on Ryan’s face wasn’t meant maliciously, but Brendon sometimes took things a little personally, and was helplessly bitter despite trying to tell himself it wasn’t that deep. Anyway, if Ryan wasn’t intentionally making a mockery of him, that meant he thought Brendon was just cute or funny or something, and though he would have maybe appreciated the sentiment a few hours ago, now he felt like he wasn’t being taken seriously at all. To be fair, he intended a lot of his actions and words to be lighthearted, just jokes (that, funnily enough, Ryan didn’t always appreciate), so it was sort of understandable as to why Ryan didn’t catch that Brendon was completely serious. Or maybe he did know, and didn’t care, or couldn’t help smirking either way. No matter what the reason was, Brendon wasn’t happy.

Luckily, he got a little better at getting the message across- rather venomously lashing out one last time, his tone stony but somehow simultaneously vulnerable because Brendon felt undermined. Ryan apparently got the picture, because when Brendon turned away after finishing, he saw his husband’s smile fade and expression change. Oh, so he wasn’t completely incapable of taking Brendon seriously- that was a relief. Brendon. He has turned around by then, and intentionally ignored him, just saying rather snarkily to himself, Yeah, that’s my name. Ryan was following him, he knew it, but he didn’t turn round, just kept walking, and then shut the door behind him, hopefully in Ryan’s face. Once he was in the bathroom, there was a brief silence and Brendon turned around, dragging his hands across his face and then through his hair. Suddenly he realised he was in great need of a shower and wrapped his arms around himself, exhaling and turning back around towards the mirror just as the bathroom door opened and Ryan walked in. He felt like saying Get out, but instead just watched silently as Ryan manouvered around and pressed a hand gently against his chest. Brendon, baby, listen.

So that softened his expression just a little- the pet name never failed to make him a little weak, but he quickly recovered and set his jaw. ”That’s, like, the first time you’ve touched me all day,” He remarked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to continue on that tangent again because it would get him nowhere. Still, passive aggressive was his middle name- or rather full aggressive. I’m sorry. Good start. You’re not selfish, you’re not childish, you’re not arrogant, none of that. Brendon sort of pursed his lips, because honestly, he already knew that- but he wasn’t about to admit that he’d said that in the moment because he kind of wanted sympathy points. Brendon was mostly shameless, but even he wouldn’t admit to that. Maybe he was childish, he thought reflectively. It’s mostly funny that... I had to keep convincing myself to stay upset. ”I wish I could say the same,” Came his immediate, dry response, and he looked down finally at the hand against his chest.

You’re- you’re hard to stay mad at, basically. Brendon wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, so he just looked a little confused for a second, hesitating before half-heartedly shrugging one shoulder, still irritated but feeling a loss nonetheless when Ryan took his hand away. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings or seem like I was ignoring you, earlier. ”It’s not seems like, Ryan,” He corrected, sounding exasperated because he wasn’t about to find a compromise, no matter how much he really just wanted this to be a normal evening. ”You were.” His tone was confident and encouraged no argument, almost daring Ryan to try and correct him. You're not really getting a new roommate, are you? Moments ago, the decision has been certain, but now Brendon was unsure- he still wanted the attention he’d made such a fuss over, but also didn’t want to give in so easy. So he didn’t reply. I thought I might eventually make up for my distractedness today and that'll be hard if you're shacking up with someone else.

Again, just moments ago, Brendon would have sneered at the suggestion, but he was only human and the immediate refusal he wished came out of his mouth didn’t form. Instead, he looked a little doubtful, but also stepped slightly closer, tilting his head back and looking up at Ryan almost challengingly. ”Are you sure? If I stay, I probably won’t be able to keep my mouth shut long enough to prevent myself from continuing to talk about the grudge I’ll still be holding.” He was semi-serious, but also leaning more towards saying Yes, I’ll stay than picking up and leaving. After another few moments of consideration, he spoke again. ”You know, I’ll hold you to that. I’m gonna shower.” Expectantly, he stepped back, and glanced towards the bathroom door.

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

So maybe Brendon was starting to sound a little like a broken record, and a little like an eager, desperate puppy, but Ryan never listened to him and this sudden shift from constant round-the-clock attention to... well, a little less, to Brendon seemed like he was being neglected in favour of something trivial, like work. In all fairness, he had been the one to try and convince Ryan that he needed to focus more, than he needed to make his own music (because Brendon adored it)- but, like he said. He never thought Ryan would actually listen to him and follow through with actual results. Deep down, Brendon was proud of him; Ryan didn’t always have the greatest work ethic and to see him actually concentrating while playing and actually taking time for his own music and not being at Brendon’s ‘beck and call’ was probably, now he thought about it, action worthy of praise, not deserving of such petty complaints. Brendon hesitated momentarily, because though he was still angry and motivated by his own perceived neglect, he was starting to become self aware. It wasn’t fun. All he wanted was for it to be like normal after shows- they’d be breathless and tired and would go practically straight to bed anyway, but it was nice, familiar. Brendon felt completely uncomfortable, and this emotion had mixed with his frustration in an unwelcome cocktail.

Ryan sometimes behaved in similar ways- like when Brendon overheated and left their room in the middle of the night to crash on the couch- but nowhere near this level of dramatic, and it never grew into anything past mild mournfulness. He always got over it, never angry, like Brendon was now; something inside of him just tended to convert all negative emotions from confusion to sadness into anger, that Aries passion kind of a curse because he experienced everything so intensely and often dealt with it in the wrong ways. So, when Ryan simply said he was worried about Brendon being so flippant and reckless, Brendon just rebuked his concern, almost going back on his own argument to say that he didn’t need constant attention. The fact was, he did, but not like he was being parented. He got enough of that from Dallon; he didn’t need it from his husband.

Again, he found a flaw in his own argument and faltered, kind of losing track of what he was saying and avoiding eye contact with Ryan, who he could see from the corner of his eye was shaking his head, seeming very exasperated- but still patient. Maybe Brendon was being ridiculous and inconsiderate- Ryan had remained relatively patient and Brendon couldn’t fault him for that, really; but he found himself getting more worked up anyway because why couldn’t he be that chill? Well. Ryan was far from what someone would describe as a ‘chill’ person, but in this situation, with Brendon acting a little deranged, he was the one smelling of roses while Brendon was floundering. He hated it- Brendon, though he always talked about going with the flow, liked to be at least in rough control. This wasn’t under his control any more.

For a moment, he had almost regained his footing, but then. No, you’re right. That threw him off. Brendon narrowed his eyes, and was outraged that upon closer study, Ryan was smiling. Frustration and upset inappropriate for such a relatively trivial matter was suddenly overwhelming and he struggled to find a response, just stared, dumbfounded. This is a reasonable reaction to, uh... Me not kissing you, whenever I was supposed to. It was obvious that Ryan still wasn’t, and didn’t plan on, taking him seriously- so Brendon kind of lashed out, trying to regain advantage and this was all wrong, this wasn’t how married couples were supposed to treat and talk to eachother, but he was too far gone now. He couldn’t back out now- he was too proud to admit defeat.

I’m flattered. Sarcasm, a suppressed grin- Brendon felt, for once in his life, very taken for granted- Ryan didn’t seem particularly bothered by anything he said, and though future him would be glad no real offence was caused, he really did feel unappreciated. Whether the cause was valid enough to that emotion to be viable, he felt it either way. Brendon kind of pushed the line out of hurt, then went quiet, just watching resignedly as Ryan stepped closer. Yeah, I do. And you know it, so don’t act like that. Brendon could have scoffed, said you haven’t really acknowledged my existence today, never mind the fact you love me, But Brendon was still rendered uncharacteristically mute.

Okay, so what am I supposed to do now? ”I don’t know, fuck off?” I’ll make up for it, don’t tell me what you want. Ryan, quite obviously very amused by Brendon’s irritation, extended himself up to emphasise the height difference, and Brendon felt small. He crossed his arms across his chest, looking back at him. ”A new roommate,” Brendon said stonily, with dead seriousness, then stepped back and turned around, going over to the bedside table where he’d left his phone, checking the time and then turning back around to face him. ”I can tell you think this is funny, and whatever. Maybe I am selfish- childish- arrogant- whatever you think of me,” He said almost delicately, like he couldn’t bear to say it himself. ”But you hurt my feelings today and you don’t care. So fuck you.” Brendon hesitated then turned away towards the bathroom, walking into the suite and closing the door behind him. He didn’t lock it.

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

So maybe just letting it all cool down a little was the best thing to do in theory, but in practice, Brendon didn’t have a patient bone in his body, and the prospect of not being able to pick a ridiculously petty fight until Ryan sought conversation out first wasn’t exactly realistic. So, when they were both inside the room, the door barely having shut behind them, he started on Ryan- beginning by acting like he had no idea what was rubbing his husband the wrong way, despite the fact everything he’d done today had been specifically to wind him up. Ryan looked kind of disbelieving at Brendon’s glaring display of aggressive, active and feigned nonchalance; Brendon, beyond caring what Ryan thought at this point, just crossed the room, losing layers. Distantly, he imagined a situation that involved such an action where Ryan maybe wasn’t extremely agitated and he wasn’t intentionally trying to get a rise out of him. It was quickly gone when he dropped his shirt on the floor, shrugging it off his shoulders and then turning back towards Ryan, who had pressed his hands into his eyes.

Brendon waited, and Ryan turned around, his arms falling to his sides. He looked way too tired for this, but Brendon was still riding the adrenaline rush and that was apparently coming to being in very negative ways. No, Brendon. In his mind, Ryan was just determined to make his day, and now his evening, miserable. This all could have been avoided if Ryan had been a little more attentive to someone who required a little more attention than was normal. In some ways, he was like a spoilt child- Ryan kind of did regard him as the centre of his universe sometimes, and treated him with unfaltering affection, and when this was taken away, Brendon wasn’t used to it and demanded his old behaviour back, because he apparently couldn’t cope with anything else. It was almost embarrassing, but Brendon apparently lacked some self-awareness. He was sulking, the embodiment at that moment of a man-child; it was assured that he would backtrack and regret everything in time, but Brendon saw nothing wrong with his behaviour as of yet. I just don’t want you getting hurt because I care about you. ”Whatever you say. I don’t need you breathing down my neck all the time.”

You told me I should focus during the shows. That was true, and Brendon didn’t deny it, just kind of furrowed his brow and looked away for a moment, thrown. When his hand dropped from running through his own hair, he shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly and spoke towards the ground. ”I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” He said hesitantly. That argument was embarrassing and he wanted to move on, but Ryan wasn’t letting that go because it was leverage. I can’t play and- do whatever you want me to do, I don’t even know. Am I supposed to stare at you the whole time? Brendon’s eyebrows raised scornfully. "You can’t act above all that now. You didn’t seem to have a problem with that until- this tour. You’re perfectly capable of playing and-“ And what? Watch him all the time? The words sounded ridiculous even in his head, so he faltered and stopped, trying to form a better comeback. For once in his life, he failed, and just managed to look even more annoyed.

He had some kind of leverage, though, in that dumb kiss. Brendon knew Ryan wasn’t insecure enough to suspect unfaithfulness (though in hindsight it seemed like a good weak point), but still- a kiss was a kiss, no matter the circumstance, and Ryan was allowed to be annoyed. Brendon certainly would have been- perhaps even more so than Ryan, who was probably doing the Arthur fist right now if Brendon bothered to look down and check. You want me to kiss you? How could such a sentence sound so aggressive? Brendon was now uncomfortable, the laugh setting him on edge as he shifted his weight. ”Why, is that too much to ask?” You threw yourself off a stage, pissed off security, and dragged in an innocent bystander ‘cause you wanted me to kiss you. Is that right? Another pause. It did sound laughable now that Ryan had laid it out for him. Brendon bit his lip, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

”Yeah, pretty much. It’s better than me not caring, Ryan- it’s not like I was asking for the fucking earth.” He offered, kind of unhappy with where this was going now, but his spirit was far from gone yet. Actually, I forgot - you also expect me to watch you the entire show rather than play my part. I assume I should also stay at your beck and call before the show. That was rich coming from somebody who usually was at Brendon’s practical beck and call. He never thought of it that way before, but his anger had kind of twisted his perception and judgement. Their relationship was nowhere near the dynamic that Brendon was making it out to be. ”Yeah, I mean, you should be flattered,” He said airily, geniune arrogance obvious in his lordly tone and stance, ”It’s not like there’s a shortage of people who would be willing.”

Ryan offered a sigh and Brendon was frustrated by his lack of passion. I love you, but I’m not just here- at your disposal, or whatever. Now there was an opportunity he’d be wise to pass up. But Brendon wasn’t exactly in the mood to use common reason. ”Yeah, sure you do.”

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

The advice that Brendon had given, though it has blossomed from only good intentions when he quite easily noticed Ryan’s increasing anxiety both before shows and during, was, in his opinion, coming back to bite him- it was his belief, and quite a selfish one, that he hadn’t thought offering such help to his husband all the way through, and it was not at all beneficial for Brendon. No matter how more lax and chilled out Ryan seemed (he was kind of smug that his advice had worked out after all, but that was besides the point) all Brendon could focus on was how it affected him- and it did, even if really, Brendon should just care about that and should prioritise his husband’s anxiety and feelings over his own bruised ego. He felt neglected- the time before shows that was usually spent with Ryan had been stolen from him, because of his own dumb advice, and the fact that Ryan seemed more interested and absorbed with his guitar than he was with Brendon himself. How could that be? Brendon had seen himself in the mirror. He wasn’t blind- and neither was Ryan. He came to the conclusion that this ignorance to Brendon’s body language and behaviour was intentional.

Okay, so he got a smile, maybe, but that was pitiful. Brendon was used to a kiss, maybe a few, before going on and at the beginning of the set, but it was the start of the show and Brendon was sure he hadn’t received one in hours because Ryan was busy actually helping himself out for once. He was quite close to throwing a tantrum right there and then, but he just did a one-eighty when he was shunned, determined suddenly to get a rise out of him somehow- positive or negative. So, like a toddler, he acted out, going against everything that stage crew, security, the band, and Ryan had said to have with regards on how to behave, making a mess but simultaneously putting on a good show to make it seem like it was all planned. The fans seemed to love it, and didn’t notice the frustration of the security, the fear-annoyance-anxiety on Ryan’s face, the confusion of the other band members. This, along with his desire to push Ryan as far as he could, just added fuel to the fire. There was no way he was calming down now.

Not even Ryan’s hasty scold slowed him down; instead, it told him that his methods were working. His heart was hammering from the expenditure and he launched back in to being unnecessarily reckless and dramatic, extending those notes again and doing half-practiced, un-mastered somersaults off stage equipment and amps and even starting to climb up some decorations at one point, dropping back down only when he realised it was time for him to sing again. This was all relatively frustrating from Ryan, as he could tell, but for Brendon this wasn’t enough. He was on a destructive roll now- and his next step was to drag in poor Dallon, who had no idea what was going on and looked just as stunned as Ryan when Brendon leaned in to kiss him. The kiss itself was strange and alien and brief and Brendon, for a second, was unsure of himself. That wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have done that, He told himself for a few moments, considering backtracking- but then he looked over at Ryan, saw his expression and realised he’d succeeded and if he backed down now it’d be embarrassing.

They said their goodbyes and when Brendon turned around from giving his little speech of appreciation to the crowd, Ryan was gone. He bounded after the rest of the crew, artfully dodging Dallon when he sensed his friend was about to yell at him, and ended up on the tour bus pretty quickly, sitting not quite next to but parallel to Ryan, on the other side of the bus. He didn’t feel very welcome, and the band members were a little awkwardly quiet, but he didn’t care. In Brendon’s eyes, it had been a great show- and he still had energy to spare. They got back to the hotel, and Brendon was still wound up, ready to go again. Ryan apparently was, too. I don’t care about the crowd. ”Damn, that isn’t the image we’re going for, babe.” Brendon grinned, amused, crossing his arms. I care about you apparently having some kind of death wish. Rolling his eyes, Brendon shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, overheating already.

”It’s called having a little fun, Ryan, look it up.” He said tersely, crossing the room and shrugging off his shirt, dropping it on the bed and then turning around. I thought we talked about you being so reckless before - you know how much that scares me, Brendon. ”And I ignored you, because you seem determined to ruin my fun. Anyway, it’s not about what you want- I’m performing for the fans, not for you, not that you’d care much if I was.” The grudge was evident in his tone, then, and he rubbed his own arm absently, levelling Ryan as his husband stepped a little closer, with purpose. He looked pretty pissed, but Brendon couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry. Why were you even doing all that? ”Why not? You wouldn’t even look at me the entire show, I had to entertain myself somehow.” Brendon dragged his fingers back through his own hair, and cracked his neck both ways, stretching out his arms when he finished. He absently realised he needed a shower but it’d probably have to wait.

And- whatever you’re mad about, I really don’t see why you thought it’d be fine to drag Dallon into it, by the way. Brendon had to stop himself from visibly smirking. ”Whatever. He was even more into it than I was,” He said airily, looking down at the gap between where the two of them were standing and then back up to Ryan. ”Anyway, someone’s gotta kiss me. You wouldn’t.”

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

It would be a lie if Brendon said that Ryan never paid him any attention, or showed any affection, physical or otherwise. The two of them, in general, were very mutually loving and had no problem showing it (even if Brendon often showed it in amounts that weren’t entirely appropriate or suitable due to the fact they were, you know, in public). Either way, they were usually each other’s top priority, forefront in their mind, top of the list of importance. Brendon knew all this, but, Brendon being Brendon, he sometimes conveniently forgot, so that in all of the instances where he acted out for no reason other than to get more attention, he could be self-assured about his own ridiculous behaviour. And it was no different one night, on the first leg of a long album promotion tour, where Brendon had it in his head that he was being neglected by his husband- in that he had been preoccupied with talking to techs, crew and stage managers, doing last minute practice and actually preparing himself properly rather than gravitating towards Brendon, like he usually did.

Now, Brendon wasn’t having it, though maybe he’d dug his own grave- in the past, Brendon had always said that Ryan should do whatever was necessary to get ready for anxiety-inducing stadium shows (or just regular ones), but he honestly never believed that maybe talking to him wasn’t actually Ryan’s best way forward. Even now he wasn’t buying that maybe Ryan was just distancing himself from it all to calm down, and Brendon, being the frontman, wasn’t exactly what you could call ‘distant’. Instead, he decided to internally accuse Ryan of ignoring him for the sake of ignoring him, that he wasn’t interesting enough, that maybe he didn’t look particularly good or something. And Brendon knew all of this wasn’t true, he didn’t tend to have many outward confidence issues. So, he was annoyed- whether his level of irritation was appropriate or not, he was still annoyed, and intended to keep that bit of trivia to himself because he had an overly petty plan to make himself feel better.

Right before they were due to go on stage, he tried to approach Ryan again, to hint for a kiss, but Ryan was absently strumming on his guitar and just smiled at him instead. Brendon bristled visibly and just turned around- and so, he went on stage, annoyed. There was a tense energy around him, like he wasn’t fully content, wound up and way too bothered. It was childish- but Brendon felt like a neglected puppy, and that confusion and hurt instantly morphed into anger and frustration, energy he needed to release in destructive ways, both to calm down and intentionally draw a reaction, any reaction, from Ryan. Any attention was good attention at this point, because apparently Brendon was utterly starved. The first song was uneventful, Brendon repeatedly trying to engage with Ryan but failing because he was focusing on playing for once. Brendon always told him to do that, and now it was happening, he was beyond frustrated.

So he tried the first in a line of tricks up his sleeve- hitting unnecessarily high notes in songs that didn’t even have them. He constantly looked over afterwards, out of breath- and Ryan barely even looked at him. Or was he imagining that? Brendon realised that wasn’t going to work, and instead resorted to jumping on amps and backflipping off them without looking or actually preparing where he’d land, and then jumping down off stage, attempting to run into the audience before a bodyguard stressed out and physically stopped him, semi-manhandling him back on stage. Brendon was laughing, exhilarated. At this point, Ryan had taken notice, and was clearly starting to stress out, obviously annoyed. Away from the mics, Ryan has spoken to him hushedly- something like stop it, you’ll hurt yourself- But Brendon pretended not to hear, shrugging and turning away. It was working- this fuelled his behaviour.

His next step was probably too far, but at the time he didn’t really consider that. He had pranced over to Dallon during I write Sins, just like always, but this time his behaviour was substantially more provocative, as he’d taken his shirt off and he wrapped his hand around the back of Dallon’s neck and pressed close, sharing the mic briefly and then actually leaning forwards and kissing him. It was brief and almost didn’t happen, but it was definitely a kiss. Dallon looked a little like a deer caught in headlights and Brendon was laughing, whirling around and continuing the show, staying consistent with his antics all the way til the end where he backflipped off the stage and luckily landed quite well. Then they were offstage, no encore this time.

There was a quick turnover between end of the show and arrival at the hotel, but throughout the entire drive, Ryan was deathly silent, staring out of the window. Brendon was still riding the adrenaline of the show and didn’t really care, because the other band members were buzzing about it, but when they were alone in the hotel room, he couldn’t avoid the awkward silence. So he broke it. ”Why are you fuckin’ miserable? That crowd was awesome.”

two hearts in one home || r&a

River was, in some ways, much more easily entertained than Ari, who couldn’t squeeze much fun out of aimless wanders in the sun, and wasn’t entranced by all the colours and sounds of the outdoors. He didn’t seem to care much for nature, unlike River, who was sort of linked to everything at its most basic by his name, and his family; with siblings named Summer, Rain, Liberty and Joaquin, who had changed his name to ‘Leaf’ to fit the theme, it was difficult to imagine a life where that natural love wasn’t ingrained in them from childhood. Ari had a rich mother but no siblings, and evidently didn’t get out very much. His idea of a fun day was curled up on the couch, on his phone, laptop and tablet at the same time all while watching something trashy on TV. He had a large house, but usually confined himself to two rooms- the kitchen and his own bedroom. Unless, of course, River was round, which was more often than not- in which case, River, still enthralled every time no matter how often he was over by the sheer size of Ari’s house, would wander around constantly, barely stopping to even pay attention to Ari. Unless he wanted something- like today.

Ari was something of a pushover and even River, who didn’t tend to make a habit of taking advantage of people, knew how to get what he wanted from his boyfriend- in this case, cooperation, and even faked enthusiasm about the prospect of heading outside for once in Ari’s life. If he was allowed, River would probably have just headed out on his own- but his mother wasn’t having it. Ari was the natural first choice. So, after about thirty minutes of River sucking up as best he could, he had successfully recruited him along on an adventure, and two more minutes later, they were outside, looking very golden in the sunlight, fingers interlaced as they set off to nowhere in particular. At least, River did. Ari apparently thought River knew where he was going (a foundationless belief; River never really knew where he was going, generally and physically).

Ari, however, was much more organised- but also much more perpetually stressed out, much more akin to complain, much more inclined to lose it if he didn’t know what was going on. River, though useless at anything to do with organising or arranging anything, was much more laid back. He wanted to go with the flow. His entire attitude and aura was simultaneously lazy and flowing, with direction but not purpose, like the running water for which he was named. He didn’t care much for the final result of things and rather found pleasure in the journey, the process; and in this case, the route they were taking and the things they saw were more forefront in his mind than things like i don’t know where we are, And what time should we leave to get home before it’s dark and Ew, I’m going to have to ask for directions. All of these things were for Ari to unnecessarily worry about.

The entire trip, they hadn’t unlinked hands, save to jump fences or something. Only now, when they settled in the middle of a golden-green field, the grass thankfully long and cool against their skin, did they break apart, only to sit close again, making sure to retain contact somehow at all times. Their legs were tangled lazily as they kind of stared up at the clouds, basking in the brilliant sunlight that hadn’t faltered once. River had considered taking his shirt off a few times, but he was too tired from the heat to actually follow through, instead toying with the idea by curling his fingers experimentally around the hem of his shirt. Hey to you. River smiled slightly, treasuring Ari’s touch for a moment before opening his eyes more and posing a question. You didn’t drag me. I would’ve gone easy. River scoffed, his head lolling to the side lazily as he raised his eyebrows, as if to say yeah, right. ”I doubt it.”

I just like it when you do this. River knew what he was referring to before Ari even demonstrated, and he laughed gently, shrugging one shoulder and nodding his head knowingly. But now I realise this is much better, yeah. He knew it. River didn’t have it in him to look smug, but felt it anyway, shifting onto his side and reaching out to prod at the very typical stretch of skin between Ari’s shirt and his jeans. It was warm. Was it your plan all along to get lost? I'm feeling very, how you say, kidnapped. We're gonna have to ask a farmer for directions. River laughed again, louder this time, and just looked a little lordly, propping his elbow up and leaning on his hand while his other arm reached out and tugged on Ari’s shirt, attempting to get him to move a little closer. ”Or we could just stay here.”

seated and sweating || b&r

To Brendon, now that everything involving him and Ryan in a relationship and having a future was now a when and not just a maybe, or an if, the urgency for the reclamation of their deep romantic and emotional connection wasn’t rampant- at least, it hadn’t surfaced as much as the desire for physical connection and affection. Having gone a few months with nothing, no intimate human contact at all (he obviously still hugged and embraced his friends but Brendon needed it on a different level), he was almost desperate, his body tense with anticipation and apprehension because god, he’d missed this. He’d missed the attention that Ryan gave so liberally, and he’d missed showing such affection. He was good at it, better so than he was at actually telling someone how he felt, even if he was a decent lyricist by this point. Brendon, unlike Ryan, preferred to just go with the flow and follow his impulses- partly because he was impulsive anyway, with very little sense of control.

To him, what Ryan was doing was intentional and cruel, making a mockery of Brendon’s obvious end goal, which was to kiss and touch and make up as much as was possible from the months of nothing. In order to achieve this, to earn it, almost, he rattled off what was not only exactly what Ryan wanted to hear, but also what he genuinely meant. That he’d never been so positive of something in his entire life than he was now, having fully decided he wanted Ryan back. He wished he’d never left him in the first place. Luckily, Ryan was easy to please- moments later and they were kissing, and Brendon remembered the sensation but was still moonstruck all the same. He felt, however dramatic it was, at peace- like how he had been by the lake, outside the cabin. In love, content, like nothing could ever come between them- not even themselves and their own stupid, foundationless fears and useless doubts. Brendon wondered how he’d ever felt differently, even if only for a little while.

Nothing had changed. Ryan acted the same, looked the same (if not taller and hotter, if it was possible), kissed the same. Brendon kind of committed it all to memory, just in case he decided to he stupid again and break it off once more. He doubted Ryan would take him back after that. All that said, Brendon wasn’t one to dwell on the past or future; everything and all that mattered was just this moment. Brendon’s hands went a little slack at Ryan’s hips just as Ryan finished working on the mark on his neck. Having been kind of preoccupied, he didn’t realise how high up it was, reaching up to touch it and press down a little, wincing minutely before dropping both of his arms to press his hands against the counter, tilting his head slightly and leaning in to Ryan as he touched the forming bruise on his skin. Am I. ”Yes,” He repeated passionately, biting his lip. ”That’s fuckin’ high. What was the ulterior motive?” It was a miracle he could even say that word when he was considerably tipsy.

Either way, he didn’t particularly care about the lovebite (well, he did, which would he proven the next morning where he’d be staring at it in the mirror, burning up and in the need of a cold shower). He was just interested in getting as much out of this reunion as he could, because time and place was against them. It was a miracle somebody hadn’t come in and complained already (there were people in the kitchen, but they were few and too drunk to care anyway). His eyelashes fluttered minutely. You’re always better at it. Honestly- Brendon seconded that. I tend to talk too much. Now that was something he could agree with. Nodding vigorously, he opened his eyes with a lazy smirk and leaned in again to complete the chaste kiss. Soon, there were slow, sweet kisses being peppered along his cheekbone and temple and Brendon was hit with a wave of affection, wondering how plausible it was to stay like this forever. Time, he figured, should stop for such a monumental occasion.

”I love you,” Brendon mumbled suddenly, moving away and down slightly to press his mouth against his throat, speaking against his skin and then moving to kiss just where he could feel Ryan’s pulse. ”Fuck, I never stopped.” After a moment, he grinned, moving up again to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, Ryan-style. ”This is like fucking... the Cabin, all over again. My feelings for you have remained consistently the same.” A pause. This was so much to register, even if it was nothing he hadn’t felt before. Although he was capable of being that legible at this point, Brendon was still driven mostly by his impulses, and he pressed close again, trying to eliminate all space between them and catch him again in a kiss, this time less chaste and more semi-purposeful, his pulse starting to race as his entire body flushed with a familiar heat. ”I love you,” He repeated, on pausing to breathe. ”I’ve missed you, and I talk too much too.”