Neve

nothing friendly at all

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. Well, I’m sober now, so I guess we’ll have to try again. Brendon suppressed an outstandingly pleased smile. ”I suppose we’ll have to, but let’s see if you’re still willing when you’re sober and not still enjoying the afterglow.”

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’m sure you’ll be okay. 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. On the bright side, when I’m sober, I remember the whole ‘aftercare’ part. I’m nice. Brendon cracked up, tilting his chin up to shake his head in disbelief at the ceiling. ”Oh, really?” He inquired, eyebrows lifting playfully. ”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.”

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. Check it. I call blueberry.

“Fuck,” Brendon cursed, but stared at the spread for a few moments before he made his decision and grabbed a simple, humble sugary waffle. ”Fine. I call everything else.” 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. And I think I've found our new tour costumes, whenever we rebrand. This is absolutely a look. 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. ”A look? You even sound gay. How did you and Keltie even-“ Hm, rethink that, Brendon. He ripped his waffle into many small pieces nervously.

if we go on || b&r

/

let’s pick up, pick up

Brendon knew deep down just how much of an asset he really was to the band and how much more popular it had become since he joined and wrestled the coveted role of frontman from Ryan’s cold, dead hands- but for some reason, as much as he was confident especially of his vocal talents, Ryan’s constant criticisms wore him down and seeped through the cracks of his outwardly self-assured exterior. He wasn’t sure what it was- when he’d joined, fresh-faced, just new blood for the music industry, he didn’t have much mettle to begin with, just pure unharnessed youthful energy and enthusiasm. Ryan’s constant and merciless mocking and insults dressed up as constructive criticism had forced him to build up a self-defensive wall, and all but completely destroyed any confidence he had in writing- he’d never considered himself an incredible lyricist and he doubted he ever would be but, god, had he tried, and Ryan had just kicked down the foundations and watched him crumble because he was passed that somebody was a better singer than he was, more charismatic, more frontman-friendly altogether.

After a while it became easy to ignore because Ryan’s harsh words and their borderline violent fights became oversaturated and it always ended up the same, they’d almost come to physical blows and then they’d both back off, coaxed by whatever third party tried to intervene before things got too serious. Brendon really consider just punching the fucking smirk off his face sometimes but then it’d ruin the Van for good and Spencer and Jon didn’t deserve that. They didn’t sign up for such pointless drama when they enlisted Brendon’s help in the band- all they wanted was somebody more suited to the songs and more up to the challenge of fronting a very theatrical live band, and instead their lives were made more difficult as they had to both manage the band and look after two perpetually fighting toddlers only they wanted to kill eachother. It was a routine, soon- even comfortable because it was familiar- but even though Ryan was running out of material and some insults lacked bite nowadays due to repetition, he still knew just what buttons to press and Brendon hated it.

So he tried to give back as good as he got. Ouch. Brendon watched him cross his arms, bitterly recalling how just before they’d been wrapped around Keltie’s waist, wound around her, he was doing it on purpose, showing her off just to get a rise out of Brendon, he knew it. At first he told himself he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction but when he saw them walk into the bus all that sensibility went immediately out of the window. Because of his anger and frustration, he couldn’t quite come up with particularly affecting insults and Ryan’s reaction to that infuriated him even further. He would be hurting in a minute, if Brendon decided to swing for his fucking jaw. Ryan might’ve been considerably taller but Brendon had more muscle and figured he was stronger. It’d be like snapping a toothpick. These thoughts calmed him a little but he stayed silent, going back to his original plan of not satisfying Ryan with some kind of grand spectacle of rage. He just rose and strolled over, his knuckles clenched and white, and brushed intentionally past Ryan as he walked towards the exit of the bus. He then turned and made a remark about dating- to which Ryan reacted not as he had expected but how he had hoped.

He was admittedly alarmed when Ryan’s hand shot out and tightened in a vice grip around his arm, and his eyes widened as he staggered backwards out of the bus, held in balance by Ryan and clearly for his benefit, not for the benefit of Brendon not falling. So much for him being stronger, he thought bitterly. Oh, yeah? What are your options? You gonna pay someone? Brendon yanked his arm away defiantly as Ryan let go and crossed his arms over his chest. He really did want to wipe that smartass fucking smile off his face. ”Oh, please. I could get them to pay me if I wanted to. You’re so sexually confused that you’d be first on my damn doorstep,” He spat, rubbing the arm that Ryan had held onto. It’s not like anyone would stick around for free, obviously. Brendon sneered, already knowing where this was going. There’s not much to redeem all of this. Brendon raised his eyebrows as Ryan looked him fully up and down. It was almost laughable how he dug his own damn grave. ”That’s right, motherfucker, take a good look. It’s all you’re ever gonna get. Die mad about it.”

Oh, and, you know, the emotional baggage of you being obsessed with your guitarist even though he's got a girlfriend. Not sure anyone would want to be with that. He scoffed, wringing his hands together all the same. He just wanted to be left alone. ”Don’t flatter yourself. And anyway- are you sure it’s a girlfriend? How many have you had before that poor girl you’re whisking along now with your sad damaged English dropout act? I heard you’ve got some on the side. How about that? That true?” He cast a venomous glare back towards the bus. ”Maybe Keltie would like to know about Jac, and Helena, and...”

if it's a dream, don't wake me

No, you’re right. I look at old photos of me and wonder how an album ever sold. Brendon vehemently disagreed with whatever Ryan was trying to imply- that before Brendon has reinvented his look he was ugly, or embarassing, or something. ”You would say that.” Considering that when he and Ryan had first met, Brendon thought he was annoyingly handsome, handsome enough that Brendon actually didn’t want to leave the bar and politely excuse himself from such situations like he usually did, no, there was no wonder Ryan’s albums sold, if they were basing everything solely on appearance. Sure, he had outgrown his hair and clothes and looked younger than he was, but Brendon admittedly somewhat fell for that boyish gaze and smile- and he all he did after that was drop himself in further shit by winding up getting employed by the guy he thought would be lying in bed next to him by the next morning, and then making said employer into his practical perfect man. Now they were stuck in a midpoint between professionalism and attraction and neither of them had the guts to make the first move. So, they did this, instead, address serious subtext in light and humorous ways so things didn’t get too deep. That wasn’t them yet. God bless. Brendon laughed, raised his eyebrows. ”So I’m God now?& like this, keep it coming.”

Wow. Brendon grinned, but honestly, when he thought about it, he knew he’d be equally exposed by whatever evidence people claimed to have of Ryan and Brendon’s ‘secret relationship’. It was so secret that even they didn’t know that they were in it, that was their running joke- but, ridiculously, he often considered whether that had a ring of truth. They shared the same hotel room, for god’s sake. Ryan had never done that out of choice with anyone, not even Spencer, his closest and oldest friend. Yeah, they're running out of content and relying completely on Instagram fan account photos. Brendon became all faux somber, shaking his head with a soft, disappointed sigh. ”They’re starving, Ryan, starving. You might say thirsty. Give them some goddamn content so they can call me a rich man’s whore using sources straight from the horse’s mouth.” More a self burn than anything, but Brendon was still cautious of his gifts being taken away as punishment for being annoying, so he sucked up real fast. Luckily, Ryan tended to be forgiving. Otherwise he’d be dead already. Sad, But you better watch it. I have purchase receipts for all of that. ”I’d rather you sell Spencer than return these,” Brendon declared, fully not kidding.

To be honest, the varied responses from fans of Ryan on social media didn’t really bother Brendon unless the insults were directed to anyone other than himself. Dating rumours he could handle because he understood them, accusations of him of taking advantage of Ryan’s wealth and being some kind of thirsty chaser of his fifteen minutes of fame he could sort of understand if you had a very spiteful point of view. Most of it seemed positive, anyway. If Ryan approved, the real fans tended to approve too. Not that Brendon cared whether he earned their acceptance or not- Ryan’s attention was all he really cared about in that sense. Those titles don't go hand in hand? Damn it. Why are you even here? He arched an eyebrow, daring him to go there and not waiting for further prompting. ”To be honest, I’m not quite sure myself. What I gather is that some fashion disaster rockstar thought I was cute but found out I was in just the line of work he needed and decided I’d be better off as his employee than as the subject of a sex scandal.”

Back to subtext, it seemed, that was getting a little tiring to navigate when at this point it was difficult to tell whether Ryan was joking or he was just being how he was. The trouble Brendon had was that Ryan made jokes so much and treated it so lightly that Brendon barely knew how to respond because he’d either make a fool of himself for being deeper than the situation called for or he’d seen rude for making a joke in return. It was difficult to navigate and though it was bound to be a conversation with more at stake, he’d prefer Ryan just tell him than to assume that Brendon knew exactly how he felt. Otherwise, he really didn’t know how to behave. He tried not to be too deep, though, again- and it wasn’t too hard because Ryan was being so stupendously obvious again it was almost laughable, but it clearly wasn’t because Brendon was flushed and even flustered, no matter how much he attempted to hide it. Yeah! You’re something special, really. ”I mean, yeah, obviously.” Well, only to you. Why else do you think I always walk a little behind you? Honestly, Brendon, I'm obvious.

A pause. Brendon smirked and his eyebrows lifted and dropped with deft speed. ”I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. But- I don’t blame you.” Brendon turned his attention back to the jeans and looked inside them for a second at the label, checking the measurements- not quite his size. Maybe Ryan didn’t do his research, though he imagined it was a test he enjoyed studying for. ”Should I be offended by the smaller size or is it intentional?” I guess we'll see. You know, in all my wildest fantasies, I never imagined I'd be putting you in more clothes. Immediately, Brendon started giggling, but he shrugged and lay the jeans back down on the back of the couch. ”You’re forgetting something,” He pointed out. I have to get undressed first, right? Anyway. You gonna give me some privacy, or?”

searching for a feeling

/I’m so productive

seal it with a kiss

/so I Know

cherries, cherries

Brendon was already having a difficult start to his day. In fact, he was still recovering from the arduous ordeal of catching Bogart in order to finally attach him to his leash and bundle him out of the door. At first it seemed to be going well- he almost had the dog convinced that he was just going for a walk, don’t worry, boy, you were hearing things when you heard me say ‘groomer’- but Bogart was no idiot and scrambled around the living room until Brendon finally caught him and scooped him up into his arms, deciding that just carrying him would probably be less bother in the end. After this exhausting trouble with his boisterous puppy, finding out that the groomer was the kid from school that he was useless for- the one he sighed and gushed wistfully about to his friends even though they had barely exchanged a few words- didn’t exactly brighten it. For others, running into a crush unexpectedly might be a good thing, an opportunity; for Brendon, always anxiously excited and wired and awkward to the bone, it was just a window of time in which Brendon would make a fool of himself and never live it down, Ryan would always think he was that weird kid whose dog he groomed that one time. Worse still, they’d be in class and Ryan would look straight through him like he did anyway, not even remembering him.

Shut up, Brendon, you’re being dramatic. He reached the reception and put on his best smile, hoping to good he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. Luckily for him, Ryan took charge of the situation massively but gently, so brendon didn’t have to do much talking other than making passing comments if he so wished. He was even offered the option to leave and simply come and collect Bogart later- and though previously it was true that he’d said this was his personal nightmare scenario, he seemed to have a rapid change of heart now that Ryan’s calming presence has relaxed him a little, even if his heart was still going much faster than usual. He told himself it was mostly because Bogart was a little shit and he didn’t want him to cause trouble for Ryan; Ryan, the classmate he thought was so achingly pretty that he couldn’t look at him directly for long and he often found himself staring wistfully at his hands as he played during class and- Oh, sure. A lot of people do that. Brendon nodded, in a daze, still stood at a cautious distance away. ”Yeah, I’d rather stay. He can be a nuisance- can’t you, Bogart?” Automatically he launched into baby talk, scratching under his dog’s chin absently and smiling.

But don’t be too worried. Wow, why hadn’t he thought of that before? I’m good with them, y’know? Dog whisperer, for sure. Suddenly hyperaware that his insistence on staying with Bogart while he was groomed might seem like he didn’t think Ryan was qualified, or didn’t trust him, or something, he quickly shook his head. ”Oh, I don’t doubt you’re good with dogs,” He said hastily, trying for a nervous laugh, ”Otherwise I’d be concerned as to why you were working here.” A pause. Brendon felt like an idiot and looked down again at Bogart- who was definitely judging him for being so useless and gay, but it wasn’t his fault that Ryan’s eyes were so fucking gorgeous. This was the closest he’d ever been to Ryan, really, he could really see his eyes when their gazes met, and since he knew if he looked for too long them it would be hard not to blurt out some impulsive compliment, something about honey and gold and the embodiment of fall. He spoke again, still not risking it and keeping his eyes fixed determinedly on his dog. ”He’s just- disobedient, to, like, everyone, apart from me.” A hesitant smile broke into his face. Talking about Bogart affectionately calmed him down and he suddenly gained the courage out of nowhere to find out whether Ryan recognised him or not. Maybe it would be rude to ask. As the words came out of his mouth, he had immediate doubts.

Yeah, strings. He was so close to saying ‘yeah, I know’- so close- but even Brendon wasn’t oblivious enough to say very stalker-ish things and not see anything weird about it. Instead he nodded in acknowledgement and smiled like an idiot to himself after Ryan placed his hand over his chest and turned around to carry on rooting through the cabinets. Bogart squirmed impatiently in his arms. And you’re Brendon. Okay, so brendon was ridiculous, he really was, he knew he was, but the fact that Ryan knew his name made Brendon flush completely, his stomach even fluttering like he was in some goddamn teen romance movie. To stop himself breaking into an atrociously and embarrassingly happy smile he bit down on his lip, hard. Ryan knew his name. This was the best news he’d heard maybe all year. You’re a good singer, you know. Great, actually. I’ve heard you during breaks. Never mind, that was the best news he’d heard all year, and Ryan thinking he was great at singing was and would be the best compliment he’d receive all year, too. Considering he’d heard Ryan sing at the odd occasion but only in a low-key voice and only those immediately around him could hear so Brendon wouldn’t be able to say this unless he wanted to blow his cover so- ”So are you,” He blurted out, and Bogart seemed to detect that he was being extra and let out a little growl. Brendon quietened. ”Thank you.”

Bogart agrees, he just told me. Brendon grinned, briskly brushing over his conversational faux pas. ”He’s a little bitch,” He said, fondly, stroking his ears. Bogart! You want a treat? Of course he did. Brendon watched as Ryan offered his dog a biscuit and again scratched behind his ears to calm him down a little. ”Y’see Ryan, buddy? He’s gonna make you nice and pretty again, you’ll match,” He mumbled, almost entirely to himself. Suddenly, though, he felt Ryan’s eyes on him and he looked up to see him leaning against the counter. You're not one of those people in band just for the credits, right? You don't seem like it. Why'd you sign up? Eyebrows furrowing, Brendon adjusted his hold on Bogart so he supported him with one arm, and lifted the other to run through his hair. ”I enjoy it,” He said vaguely, then shrugged a shoulder. ”And, I’m not really good at anything else...”

searching for a feeling

Brendon often wondered whether or not anybody actually knew about the two of them. There had been that first night in Seattle, when Ryan flew across the country with the intention of heading directly to his hotel room, for what reason he wasn’t, at the time, sure of- and he was pretty sure nobody suspected a thing, the level of hatred they displayed to eachother was so great and incontestable. The next morning and the day of the first Seattle show he had earned some funny looks- Brendon didn’t blame them, he had a limp in his step that was mortifyingly noticeable- but other than that, nothing. They’d never been meticulously careful in covering their tracks, but they were, to an extent, cautious. They’d never hear the end of it if anybody found out within the band- if anybody outside of the band and the close crew found out about Brendon and Ryan’s peculiar new relationship, they’d never recover from that kind of scandal. As far as he knew, it was still their secret, their mutual burden to bear, though it didn’t feel like much of a burden when Ryan was standing this close to him and he was smirking and Brendon could vividly recall the racing thrum of his pulse beneath his lips and the warmth of his skin under his fingertips. It was all a long while ago now but it was tantalising and painfully fresh in Brendon’s mind, too overwhelming for him to be able to go with his gut and back out of this before he became ensnared with Ryan again, before their hypothetical cars collided in the same lane yet again. It wouldn’t be pretty, Brendon knew. It never was with them.

Brendon was fully aware of the gamble he was making even as he worked on the buttons of Ryan’s shirt, but he decided that even though the odds were stacked against this ending even neutrally, Ryan was worth the risk. Still, he was hesitant. Brendon had an unfortunate history of greatly misreading situations and Embarassing himself, so halfway down the front of Ryan’s shirt, he stopped, tilted his head up at him slightly, and made double sure that they were on the same page here, or at least the same chapter. Of course. He exhaled a sigh of relief and carried on, trying to ignore the embarrassing dilemma of his rapid heart- though all he could feel was it beating insistently in his chest and the only things he could tangibly focus on were the sounds of his and Ryan’s unsteady, urgent breathing as they celebrated their reunion in their own apparent special way; the familiar softness of Ryan’s skin; his gentle, dulcet tone. It was all music in his ears and at his fingertips. At night your body is a symphony and I’m conducting- an apt lyric then and now. It was terrifying how little exposure to Ryan it took for Brendon to unravel at the seams and come apart at the edges. If I ever change my mind about that, then I've gone crazy, believe me.

”You never know,” He mumbled, impatiently unfastening the final button at the bottom of Ryan’s shirt and feeling a sense of triumph when it dropped from Ryan’s shoulders and crumpled onto the ground. ”Y’could’ve gone off me or something.” ...Brendon didn’t believe that for a second even as he himself made the suggestion; Ryan had written songs about him, for god’s sake, it was highly unlikely they’d just reunite and go on as friends considering they had never just been friends before. They didn’t know how to make it work, just like how they didn’t know how to make the faraway concept of ‘boyfriends’ work- they made everything up as they went along and hoped it didn’t all fall apart into ruin, even though by now that was their trademark- it had happened with with everything since their first meeting when Ryan immediately decided to hate Brendon’s guts, then it had happened with their brief fling, and then the band had split and though neither of them mentioned it they both knew part of the blame could be attributed to the fact that they’d complicated things beyond repair. At least their mutual hatred was accepted and manageable and they each knew their place with the other- add in romance, even in its most watered down and dirtied form, everything became a whole lot harder to handle. And so, predictably, reliably, they ruined everything with admirably consistency.

They weren’t stupid. Brendon wasn’t an idiot. Again, he knew exactly what the consequences could be if this turned sour. He just- didn’t particularly care. It was so hard to care about anything or think beyond the present when he had the permission and time to explore as he pleased, hands visiting the same territory and familiarising themselves with the differences, the slight but noticeable increase in definition. It was be so easy to leave his inhibitions and common sense behind when he was in Ryan’s arms. But- Brendon wasn’t an idiot. Though he was beyond caring about the potential consequences for the two of them as individuals, he did genuinely care about Spencer and Dallon and Ian and Mike and Jon, who had nothing to do with the mess they’d made and didn’t deserve to suffer when the fallout inevitably came. So; the solution. To soften the blow, he threw his arms around Ryan’s neck, stated the rule as plainly as possible and then leaned in to catch him in an apologetic kiss, fingers curling into the back of his hair. With the more serious request out of the way, Brendon drew back to propose a second deal.

You’re cute. So was Ryan’s fucking laugh, but Brendon’s expression turned stormy and his hackles raised, hyperconscious of the possibility of being mocked- until Ryan dated him quickly by drawing his thumb gently over his temple, and he settled like a content feline, blinking up at him affectionately. Sure, if you’re up for the challenge. Challenge. Challenge? Brendon scoffed, pulling back and puffing our his chest, the confidence of a peacock but no substance to back this assuredness of himself and his completed untested abilities. ”Maybe it’s a challenge for you. Just you wait, Rowe, you’ll feel me for days.” That last comment was a joke, alluding to their first encounter of this nature, but even still, he trailed off towards the end, suddenly realising that Ryan had agreed and he’d never expected- or wanted- to get this far. However, because he had more pride than sense, he supposed he’d have to go through with it. Anything for you, baby. His eyes glittered and he surged close to kiss him hastily- that had always been Brendon’s thing, but when Ryan made use of the pet name, it made his heart swell and he finally realised why Ryan always used to looked so affected when he used it.

But... you’re right. Yeah, Ryan, he usually was. You’ll learn someday. Nobody can know, sure. Brendon inhaled, content, then leaned to meet Ryan in the middle, allowing him to take the lead of the kiss and sighing hitchedly when he felt Ryan’s teeth sink gently into his bottom lip. Hey... Brendon made a curious noise but let his eyes fall shut as Ryan pressed kisses along the side of his face. I have... My own rule. Interesting. You have to try not to make me too jealous onstage, ‘kay? Brendon sighed again, deep and breathy, but he was half-laughing until Ryan caught onto his earlobe and leaned them both back. ”Sorry, it’s just me acting out,” He explained. ”See, I’ve just missed you so much.” Pointedly, he pressed his hips forward and grinned, hanging off Ryan’s neck by his arms. ”I really have missed you. Don’t be too jealous of Dallon, he’s too sweet for me anyway.”

nothing friendly at all

Whatever you say. Brendon arched an eyebrow at him from where he lay, trying to occupy his hands with something else now that they couldn’t be on Ryan’s skin, feeling the heat and thrum of his pulse and tracing the muscle definition he’d never really noticed until twenty-four hours ago when worked desperately to get Ryan’s shirt off and had the pleasure of being able to indulge his kinaesthetic senses. Not that he’d never seen Ryan like that before- they were in a band together on a small tour bus, for god’s sake, he’d seen more of band members than he wanted to- but that was obviously different. Last night he’d had the freedom to satisfy close to every single closely hidden and guarded carnal urge he had regarding Ryan and now it was impossible to think of him in any other way- especially because the bruises (they were dark and plentiful- damn, Brendon really went for it, didn’t he) were plain to see and when he turned, there were scratches down his back; those he’d asked for and Brendon had been all too glad to deliver. Brendon wasn’t sure what he looked like but he imagined he was in a similar state. Ryan really was gorgeous like this. Brendon picked at the sheets, sighing. I don’t need any pointers.

Lifting his head again to laugh softly, Brendon pretended to consider this, but pretending quickly lead to actually thinking about it, and the more he did, the more he realised that he really couldn’t fault Ryan for much. It was slightly ridiculous, almost grading Ryan based on last night. ”Actually, you do,” He countered, voice all matter-of-fact, ”But you know what, I’ll let you off. I’m gonna assume it was because you were drunk and therefore not at top performance. If you catch my meaning,” His last sentence trailed off into barely concealed laughter and he waved a dismissive hand, biting his lip to prevent himself from breaking out into a Cheshire grin. You’ll feel me for weeks. With that, he immediately opened his mouth and moved to try an sit up so he could protest, but the immediate pain he felt coupled with a visible cringe made him check himself and pause for a second, begrudging. I can’t argue with that,” He muttered, sliding back down against the headboard. ”Oh, fuck, I’ll have to walk like a dumbass for days. Will people be able to tell? I can never- tell if they can.”

Brendon wasn’t usually one to get embarrassed or be conservative or bashful about these kinds of things, but the situation made it a little more vital that he could figure out how to walk normally and be as mobile as usual on stage. The timing- if anyone saw straight through him, they might then suspect Ryan, who also had a very slightly off gait- he shook his head, told himself he was being ridiculous, it was fine, nobody would ever expect Brendon and Ryan because they were supposed to hate eachother, be disgusted by eachother. God, Spencer and Jon would have a field day if they found out about this- so they couldn’t. Brendon hoped that was a given and he didn’t have to have such a conversation with Ryan- ‘Hey Ryan, you know how we kind of had sex? Just saying, don’t tell anyone’. Either he’d be weirdly offended because Ryan was a Virgo and just like that, or he’d be disgusted at the prospect of anybody even knowing about it anyway. Brendon knew he shouldn’t care about the latter outcome but somehow he was frightened of it. That being said, it was hard to worry when they were in their little fantasy world in Seattle, and Ryan had kissed the back of his hand like some kind of prince, and Brendon had moved in to comfortably settle his head in the crook of Ryan’s neck after pressing insistent kisses everywhere he could reach.

This was a lot. Brendon tried not to think about it, tried to get out of his head by dragging Ryan into another kiss, but then they were settling comfortably, Brendon’s head resting on Ryan’s bicep. He exhaled, feeling both suffocated and completely at home in Ryan’s arms. Oh, yeah? Brendon nodded without question. You’re kind of trouble, too. They were both nothing but trouble for the other but at this point both of them clearly thought it was worth it. Brendon smiled, small. You're kind of trouble, too. I'm sure I won't have a Brendon-free thought for a while. Meeting his eyes seriously, Brendon searched Ryan’s face. Not that I mind. He laughed, moving his free hand and letting his fingers dance over Ryan’s collarbone and up to his neck, tracing bruises and then moving up to curl affectionately into his hair. ”I should hope not.” His voice was soft, oddly gentle even though they should be used to that kind of tenderness by now, having overloaded eachother with fine feelings in a very short space of time. Brendon reckoned it was only a matter of time before one of them cracked under the pressure and this promise of a new foundation crumbled.

But, whatever. There was no use in worrying, right? Brendon sighed and as Ryan’s eyes dropped down to his mouth, the corner of his own mouth quirked and he dutifully did the same, eyeing Ryan’s mouth and considering going in for another sweet kiss but he could tell Ryan unfortunately had something to say. What could possibly be more important than- What now? Oh. Brendon’s eyebrows raised after he processed this, and he laughed, disbelieving, shifting so he was slightly more on top of Ryan and leaning in to catch his bottom lip between his teeth for just a second. ”I dunno, how much time we got before took service gets here?” I know it's stupid, but. I can't see myself acting the same. Huh. It seemed he had drastically misread the subtext there. Disappointed, Brendon moved off and sat cross-legged beside Ryan now, poking him absently in the side with his foot. ”Yeah, me neither, but- I don’t know, I’m not sure, I’ve not had much time to think.” He paused, eyes lifting from where they were fixed on the sheets and looking Ryan quickly up and down before he met his eyes. He laughed hopelessly. ”I thought this-“ He gestured vaguely to Ryan, to them, to the bed, to the room- ”Would be all that we wanted.” He dragged a hand down the side of his face, no longer sure of himself.

if it's a dream, don't wake me

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 asked 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 hungry. 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 it, I knew I left one of my cards here. 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’.

Not sarcasm, not complaining. Brendon’s eyebrows lifted and dropped quickly. “Yeah, I get enough of that from your entourage.” 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’m truly grateful. I don’t know what I’d do without you, etc. 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. ”I know exactly what you’d do,” Brendon said, pausing to admire a printed shirt, ”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.” He trailed off there, thoughtful, losing focus, before he snapped himself back into it and moved a hand to drag back through his hair. “Of course, he wouldn’t be as good as me. I saved your career, Ry. Never forget it.”

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. You have! I also know that 'FW' means fashion week, and who J. Alexander is. Feels pretty good to be a parrot. 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. ”You’ve surpassed me already.” 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 met you and decided that was impossible. 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. Today some interviewers showed me, like 'receipts' of how I look at you in photos, and it's bad, Brendon. Once he’d recovered and the pink dusting of colour on his cheekbones had more or less faded, he glanced up, curious. ”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.”

Prepare for some unsavoury Instagram comments. 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. ”Thanks for the heads up,” He said finally, but he was smiling, used to it all at this point.

Hotter? 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. Okay. I'm totally cool enough on the outside to be a sugar daddy, thanks to my very talented stylist, Brendon Blake. ”That’s better, thanks.” So, where's my personality makeover? I need some neuroses concealed. Immediately, Brendon rolled his eyes. ”I’m your stylist, not your therapist. Don’t hold y’goddamn breath.” 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. Say what again? Sugar un... ”Oh, fuck off.” He winced, tightening his arms around his chest. Somehow, it was just so much worse than the original.

Either way, I eventually deserve some sugar in return, that's how it 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. ”Sure, baby, just say the word,” He muttered, and looked up at Ryan from beneath his eyelashes. ”S’only fuckin’ fair.” 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 like it more on you. I knew it’d look good. 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.

Did you know your ass is impossible to shop for? A pause. The corner of his mouth twitched. He slowly turned around. ”What?” I made these employees who looked the same size as you try on jeans to figure it out, but no one came quite close. Laughing, he stared at Ryan with something akin to part disbelief, part delight. Mostly disbelief. ”Oh yeah? Is that a testament to me?” Trust me! I’d know. Brendon was truly floored; which was strange, considering how stupidly obvious the two of them tended to be. ”You do, do you? I didn’t- I didn’t realise you payed some much attention, I gotta say.” 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. ”So, uh, these are gonna- accentuate?”