Neve

your way

Honestly, Ryan should have learnt by now that any physical ‘punishment’ he was capable of carrying out and willing to carry out in response to Brendon being a little shit/annoying bastard/fucking asshole/et cetera was- not really a punishment. Brendon, though not exactly a stereotype, was- submissive. Dismally so. To say the least. The things that always used to get to him when they were less fine tuned at not killing eachother were the verbal insults- things very rarely ever escalated beyond that, anyway, but Ryan knew just how to push his buttons and push him over the edge that way. Now, when they were on much better terms, and had a much more physical and intimate side to their relationship? Ryan’s ‘punishments’ for Brendon’s (admittedly childish) behaviour were never exactly- effective. Well. That depending on what exactly Ryan wanted to achieve. If he wanted to turn Brendon on past the point of calming down, then he was golden- if he wanted to actually teach him a lesson about something, not so much. But Brendon wasn’t about to apologise. He’d like to invite Ryan to step into his shoes and get shoved against the side of a bus by a man, like, five inches taller than him, and see what his reaction was- remorse or an erection.

Anyway- it wasn’t a punishment, per say, but Brendon was clearly affected, stood at an angle with his back pressed still against the metal, his body sloping intentionally just so. Another person might’ve been embarrassed by how one kiss had him looking and acting like he’d just run a marathon, but Brendon had no dignity left. He was smirking blatantly, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes dark, watching Ryan intently as he shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. Honestly, what did the man expect? Clearly nothing is a good punishment for you. Brendon laughed, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back as if he was genuinely thinking about it. ”Actually,” He began, levelling a clearly irate Ryan with his gaze, ”That was a real fuckin’ good punishment for me. Please punish me more often.” He was the devil, in person. Brendon was grinning, still breathing hard, obviously very confident in the belief that things were going and would continue to go his way this evening. From where he was standing, his genius plan had worked and the primary goal on his brain now was to get to either of their hotel rooms as fast as was possible without being suspicious or blatantly obvious to the others.

Of course, that was with the presumption that Ryan actually wanted to do that. From what he’d seen from the poor man over the last few weeks, he was feeling kind of antsy. Brendon couldn’t imagine him turning down the opportunity, because he was coming from a similar place- a fundamental flaw in his scheme was that by depriving Ryan, he was also depriving himself. Interestingly, he’d had some internal conflict over that- they weren’t official or together or exclusive, so Brendon could find someone else and have a clear conscience afterwards, but- he didn’t want to. Ryan was the only one on his mind. He’d written Hurricane about Ryan, for fuck’s sake. He was just as obsessed as Ryan was- it just wasn’t as obvious and it showed up in different ways. Anyway, Ryan was blushing, Brendon was smirking, but then his ex bandmate threw him for a loop. Are you serious? You thought being an asshole to me would work to accomplish that. Perhaps. Just to drive his offer home, Brendon then casually allowed Ryan a looksee into his current fantasy and it was obvious it was somehow effective because Ryan’s jaw all but dropped.

And he was flushed- how cute. Brendon had folded his arms loosely across his chest and was stood there, proud and self-satisfied. He was just waiting for Ryan to accept his invitation. For starters, you won’t be, so. A spell of confusion passed over his features but then he nodded as if in sly understanding, like they were on the same page. They weren’t. ”That’s okay, baby, I’ll do whatever you ask me to. I’m just, uh. In the mood- for that.” He wasn’t kidding. Brendon was about to pipe up and be annoying yet again when Ryan once again invaded his space (he was more than welcome to do so), hooking his fingers into Brendon’s belt loops and pulling him close, away from the side of the bus. If you apologised, told me you wouldn’t do anything like that again, maybe I’d forgive you. Hm. Maybe Ryan really was delusional- apologising was a thing they only did for eachother on outstanding occasions, like Seattle or after Ryan kicked off about Ian or when they were being soft and vulnerable in the early hours of the morning.

Naturally, Brendon was about to strike up a deal that benefited him perhaps a little more, but Ryan wasn’t done and Brendon shut up, staring with fascination at his mouth. I’d fuck you senseless if you did that for me. Oh. Oh, he was serious. It was Brendon’s turn to flush as he rapidly weighed this dilemma- if he apologised, he’d get dick, but his pride would suffer a hard blow. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t get any dick, but his dignity would remain intact. Fragile, but intact. Sullen, he glanced at his feet and cleared his throat. ”I, uh- fuck. Okay. Ryan, I.” Brendon bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard. ”I’m sorry. I won’t- I won’t do anything like that again. Promise.”

you and i will always be my dream

Not even thirty.

Ryan is a year older than me and neither of us have yet turned thirty- that’s why it seems so exceptionally cruel that when he holds me in his arms it feels like he’s trying to protect me from something he just can’t. We can’t be just lovers anymore; we can’t kiss without my thoughts inevitably slipping away to ‘what if this is the last time I kiss him’, and I know he can’t wrap his arms around me without noticing how fucking thin I am. I’m not just his husband, I’m his sick husband. Dying husband. He’s going to be a fucking widow before he’s even thirty and it kills me to think about so I cut my thoughts off forcefully before they get a chance to spiral; I try and distract myself by listening to his breathing, steady by my ear. When I pull back slightly I’m smiling despite myself because here is the man I have loved all of my life, by my side even now, when things look so hopeless. Though I didn’t expect any less from him. Ryan would never leave, even if I asked him to. Overwhelmed, I resist slightly when he cradles my jaw and tilts my head up to meet his eyes- again, I am constantly aware of how sick I look, it’s written on my face, plain as day. It used to be something I was able to manage- appearance wise, anyway- now, I can’t fool anyone. So I’ve stopped trying. My hair is overgrown and I barely do more than run my hands through it, somedays not even that. Reflectively I run my hand through it as I hesitantly meet my husband’s eyes.

I try to stop worrying so much, for him.

Charming way to put it. I can’t help the reluctant smile that creeps onto my face, reluctant even though I was the one who cracked the joke. I wonder if he can tell how desperately I try to pretend things are normal- when he’s beside me in my hospital bed I ignore the sounds of heart monitors and whatever other crap is wired up to me (I’ve stopped fucking caring what they connect to me from one day to the next, Ryan knows more than I do at this point and we’ve had a few minor fallings out over just that) and I shut my eyes and I pretend we’re back at home, in our bedroom, in our bed. I fancy that we had spent the whole evening watching TV, maybe, curled up together on the sofa, and then I’d pretended to be asleep and he’d picked me up so gently and carried me up to bed, laid me down so tenderly and climbed in beside me. Sometimes I wake up from such fantasies and open my eyes expecting to be met with sunlight streaming in through the blinds and illuminating Ryan’s skin, the crispness of our own sheets, drowned in the hoodie I sleep in because it smells just like him. I’m wearing that now, funnily enough- I have stolen countless items of clothing from Ryan over the years but this is my favourite and when Ryan isn’t around, and I let myself break down in private, I cry into it, chest heaving desperately until I calm down and tire myself out and I am too dehydrated to cry any more.

”What can I say,” I laugh, but barely. Charming, that’s what I’m supposed to be. I crack these jokes because if I stop, who am I anymore? I might as well be dead if I lose the part of myself that is immortal. I don’t want to be a shell. ...You took a lot more than just that, though? He nudges me and I elbow him right back, but I can’t really muster enough strength for it to be more than a gentle nudge. ”Damn right I did.” My voice is laced with amusement, but distant. Not really my own. ”I thought that was a sensitive spot, baby, I’m surprised you brought it up of your own accord.” I’m smiling, and he takes my hand, and it’s so warm and the callouses are so familiar, our fingers lace together like they have hundreds of times. Clockwork. We’re stood in the water and I try not to shiver and suddenly he turns to me and I can tell the stupid bastard is about to start blaming himself for something that is not his fault. Used to this guilt from Ryan by now I turn to him, smile fading, and will him to stop, I can’t bear that he blames himself. I know he can’t bear to hear me blame myself either. But I’ve accepted that I’m the only one that can- or could- help myself.

But I’m breaking down, of course I am, these days I’m constantly on the brink. We’re flustered and stupid and chaotic and in love and as I lean forwards Ryan catches me easily in his arms and I kiss him, leaning against him. When I pull back he’s looking right me and my chest swells with sorrow and affection and then I remember what I look like and stubbornly drop my chin to my chest, swallowing. As I do this, Ryan bodily moves us so I am facing the horizon. It’s not really that impressive considering the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen is holding me secure in his arms right now. The sunset could only dream of matching that. Even so- he presses kisses against my skin and I sigh, appreciative. You’re going to be okay. Why would I believe him when he just sounds like he’s trying to convince himself? Holding my tongue, I rest my chin in the crook of his shoulder and my eyelids start to droop. Fatigue has set in already and I’ve barely even walked anywhere. I’m weak, I’m worthless, it’s like he’s my fucking carer, not my husband. I hate it. I hate it so much. I’ve been on the edge for a while but before I can start shaking and before any tears start to fall I’m stopped when he starts to speak again.

I Know it. Trust me. ”I trust you.” My response is immediate, unfaltering. There’s nobody I trust more. I’ll be right there next to you, the whole time. ”I know.” My voice wavers and I clear my throat to try and disguise it but I know he will have noticed. Ryan is so observant- he only doesn’t notice things when he intentionally and actively tries not to. ”I don’t know what I’d fucking do without you.” Well, I did- but if I said so, Ryan would kill me before I’d even get a chance to die from my disease. The macabre nature of this business brings a mirthless smile to my lips and I stare still at the horizon while Ryan moves around me, wraps his arms around my waist. Here is the one place I feel safe. Home is a person and that person, for me, is Ryan. Automatically I relax back into his arms, confident that he can hold me. It’s beautiful. My head dips in a lazy nod and after a few beats I reach one of my arms up to curl into the back of his hair, turning my head fully to the side and guildimg him awkwardly but sweetly into a short kiss. ”You’re beautiful. Baby, I- I love you more than anything. I wanted- to be with you forever. Find our first grey hairs, and now-” I shut my eyes tight and clench my jaw. Breathe, Brendon, breathe.

your way

The first time they even met eachother, Brendon had crashed headfirst into a much taller Ryan whom he was to replace as frontman, and Ryan had snapped at him without even hesitating- ‘Who the hell is this guy, what is he fucking doing?’ When Brendon very hesitantly told him who he was, and Ryan realised that this guy was going to take his place, Brendon never even had a chance to apologise and greet eachother properly because Ryan had cast a betrayed and disbelieving look towards Spencer before turning on his heels and stalking away like some proud, wronged peacock. With terrible posture. Brendon didn’t dislike him immediately- he was just immensely confused. As far as he had been aware, the whole band had supported the idea of him becoming the new frontman. He was told of Ryan, but not warned about him. He often thought that if maybe he’d asked to actually meet the guy before he knocked him down off his high horse and bruised his apparently very fragile ego, maybe none of this would have happened. Brendon would still be working at a smoothie shack, or something. He used to fantasise about not being constantly trapped on a hot tour bus with somebody who hated his guts, but now- they’d move on a lot. A hell of a lot. He didn’t regret anything. Well- nothing he would admit.

So, they’d changed, but not enough, Brendon supposed. They’d never really been friends- when they weren’t fucking they hated eachother, when they weren’t doing either they were nothing. It wasn’t like they were just friends now, no, things were never that simple with them, but they were certainly learning to become more amicable towards one another. Brendon found he enjoyed Ryan’s company, felt warmth inside of him when Ryan smiled, felt a little leap in his chest whenever Ryan, say, just- said his name in a certain way. The thing was, they’d never learned to properly communicate, like adults. They’d always just been juvenile and antagonistic or they’d fuck to release the tension (marginally) less aggressively. So, though they no longer wanted to knock eachother out, they still hadn’t figured out how to talk about how they were feeling unless they were drunk, it was after 3am or they were crammed together in a bunk surrounded by nothing but the other. Even something they tended to be good at- physical intimacy- was a difficult topic, because Brendon would be asking for something, and apparently he wasn’t capable of doing that. He had to be difficult about it.

What they had a lot of practice in, though, was arguing- so when things escalated and became more heated, Brendon was off before the starting gun, defending himself before Ryan had even finished his sentence. The experience shone through there- Ryan didn’t exactly shrink, but he lost confidence in his point and fell silent, the sullenness plain on his face, etched into the lines of his face. Brendon was used to feeling something sick and twisted akin to triumph when he saw Ryan unhappy, it had been like he’d gotten a kick out of it, hardwired to feel so victorious. That malicious part of him had apparently been lost, thank god- all Brendon felt was remorse for being, perhaps unnecessarily forceful about something they were both sensitive about. He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t new, per say- they’d been growing closer, after all. Luckily or unluckily, depending on where each of them stood, Ryan didn’t hold back for long, losing his temper soon after and shoving him against the side of the bus against the cold metal. His oversized shirt had ridden up at the back and a stripe of skin on his lower back was pressed against it- he shivered, but didn’t dare to say anything.

Apparently, he had no dignity left, even if he did look fleetingly over Ryan’s shoulder to make sure they didn’t have some kind of gawking audience, Jon standing there speechless or Spencer ready to pull as many strings as he had to in order to call of the tour, or fans, somehow, who knew what hotel they’d be at it, what if- Well, he met Ryan’s eyes again, and all worry of that was no longer at the forefront of his mind. Brendon could barely look him in the eye when he exhaled his mortifying admission- small steps, he supposed. And Ryan was just- smirking. Daring to make eye contact, Brendon blinked uncertainly, eyes drifting down, down, down, to his mouth, to his chest, down to his waist and beyond, they were barely inches apart. After too long a quiet Brendon opened his mouth impatiently but Ryan didn’t give him chance to speak, moving his hands to find their natural place and then leaning in to kiss him. Brendon was still blinking when their lips met and it took him a second to kick into gear and sigh responsively against his mouth. This was so stupid, they were in a parking lot, they- Yeah. I do. Asshole. Brendon was grinning breathlessly, chest heaving. But then Ryan backed off just as Brendon felt like getting started.

Don’t ever fuck with me like that again. Still recovering, Brendon pressed himself entirely flat against the side of the bus and lifted his shirt at the front to wipe over his face before he dropped his folded his arms low over his chest and stood against the metal at such an angle so his hips jutted out before him. ”What’ll you do? Whatever that just was...” He tilted his head to the side. “I liked that.” When he started to move over, back to Ryan, eyes dark, the last thing he expected was for Ryan to turn around and- What movie do you wanna watch? Huh? Laughing that followed started off geniune but trailed off into awkward uncertainty when he realised- Wait, was he serious? ”Are you serious? I just told you I wanted you to fuck me,” He repeated, disbelieving- and slightly offended. ”Like- Well, what can we watch while I’m sitting on your dick?” He still wasn’t fully sure whether Ryan was pulling his leg. Hm.

old fashioned

Just as Brendon was a mysterious character to Ryan despite being considerably famous and well-known, Ryan was a complete mystery to Brendon. All that he knew about the man was that he was a bootlegger and he spoke with a slight new york accent that was so vague he couldn’t pinpoint where he was born any more specifically than that. Not only was he handsome, but he seemed to be at ease with his role, dealing with Dallon with practiced ease (though it was Dallon, he wouldn’t cause much trouble with anyone) that told Brendon he had probably started his trade all the way back to the beginning when prohibition first began. An opportunist, Brendon deduced him to be- and this was even more obvious when they found themselves on just their second meeting stealing away to a bathroom because they were that inclined towards one another they couldn’t stand maybe going somewhere a little more inconspicuous. Another thing about Ryan was that he definitely knew what he wanted- before Brendon could even finish his sentence, Ryan had locked the door and was already closing the distance between them so Brendon had to move back and lean against the sink. He was surprised, but- Brendon always welcomed a little forwardness.

The problem was he hadn’t anticipated this, being so affected by somebody, so he really did have to cling on to the edge of the sink to keep himself upright. Really, how did anyone not understand a man liking another man when some men looked like this? Brendon had never understood it. Convenient. I believe you’ve singlehandedly defined my type. Brendon laughed, but it was a distracted laugh as he swayed a little, immensely flattered. He wasn’t sure why. Plenty had previously tried to woo him via sickly-sweet flattery. Though he never denied the opportunity to have his ego stroked that way, sometimes it just got tiring, when the same thing kept being said- mostly about physical assets. Ryan, though, was next level. It was so cliché, but- brendon felt himself flushing. Just at that. He tried to brush it off by speaking quickly, reacting casually to the compliment so nothing seemed too heavy too fast. ”Not sure whether to be concerned,” He responded in a low voice letting his eyes settle at the curve of Ryan’s lips as he smirked. ”Are you that inexperienced that one man can set the standard for all others? We barely know eachother.” Yet he was smiling. Softly, geniunely.

There was something about Mr. Rowe. He had barely started picking at the seams of Brendon’s composure and he was already unravelling, falling apart- it would be embarassing but Brendon had alright cast his dignity aside. They were in a club bathroom, for god’s sake. How high and mighty and proud could he really pretend to be? Brendon it is. God, his name sounded so good coming from his mouth and Brendon tried not to let his mind wander to other instances where he might hear Ryan utter his name perhaps in a different manner. Stop it, Brendon, don’t get ahead of yourself. Or do. I mean, look around you. One could say you’ve already taken it too far. You can call me Ryan. Brendon nodded, eyelids half-mast as Ryan leaned in towards his neck and started paying close attention to the sensitive skin there. He would definitely call him Ryan, he’d do anything he asked of him, even after realising that Ryan was good-naturedly mocking him for his easiness. It was hard to think with dignified coherency when Ryan was killing- or rather ravishing- him, with warm kisses pressed against his neck. So he just nodded quickly and curled his fingers into the back of Ryan’s hair to try and ground himself.

I prefer the term ‘ravish’. Of course he would. ”Of course you would,” Brendon breathed, raising a playful eyebrow, but that faux-cockiness quickly faded and this was evident when he repeated the same thing twice when Ryan had asked him to talk about himself, but really, what did he expect, what was he supposed to do when a handsome near-stranger (well, not quite) had his mouth pressed almost permenantly against his skin. Give him his entire life story? Not likely. Brendon opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering, as Ryan pulled back, and he lifted his free hand up hesitantly to press his fingers against his neck and feel the warm pressure. Something to remember him by. Good. He then searched Ryan’s eyes, his sweet honey eyes, then his gaze travelled back down to his mouth and he leaned in as Ryan slipped a hand to hold against his lower back, let his eyes shut briefly when Ryan grasped onto his tight-fisted hold on the sink behind him. Is that so? You’ve made me lose all sense, myself. A feverish nod was all he managed to fit in before Ryan invaded his space in a way which was very welcome, catching his lips in a relaxed kiss, passionate and deep but not urgent. Chasing still after Ryan pulled back, Brendon couldn’t help the whine of protest that left him when he leaned forwards and Ryan didn’t meet him immediately in a follow-up kiss.

I can already tell you’re going to be trouble for me. So maybe they’d been in eachother’s company for a collective two hours at most so far, but really, Brendon was surprised he hadn’t figured that out already. ”Look who’s talking.” Without discretion Brendon freed his hand from Ryan’s hold and unclasped it from the edge of the sink before bringing both his hands up to hold onto his hips- he then adjusted his own stance so his hips jutted out against Ryan’s and he reached up to twist his fingers in the front of his shirt, dragging him back down close to his lips. ”Okay, But- You’re real trouble, I’m guilty by association, now, y’see? I’m going down if you are.” Welcoming another briefer kiss, Brendon stretched it out by biting gently, mischievously on Ryan’s bottom lip. You are going to give me the grand tour at your next party, aren’t you? A sharp inhale immediately dashed any dreams Brendon had of appearing aloof and untouchable. ”Of course, darlin’. I’d say I’d take you in every room in my house but I hope you’d understand me saying I’d prefer it the other way around.”

a song of pure romance

They weren’t in a long distance relationship, per say- they lived in the same house and Brendon was home much more often than someone would be if they truly lived oceans apart, but he was still away for a substantial amount of time and on that first tour Brendon went on without Ryan, the intense anxiety he hadn’t suffered from since the very beginning of their career had taken hold of him for a few weeks to the point where he almost had something like a nervous breakdown and came the closest he’d ever been to cancelling a whole tour just because he needed Ryan that much. He hadn’t realised how much Ryan had helped him just standing their off to his right playing guitar- he’d taken his husband for granted on the road and he wanted to change that, texting Ryan every free second and forcing him to FaceTime so Brendon could tell him that he loved him. At first he was stubborn, refusing to admit to Ryan that he was struggling by himself because he was proud to a fault, but eventually he confessed about his increasingly difficult to manage stage fright and Ryan pretty much instantly booked a ticket to the city he happened to be in at the time and accompanied him for the rest of the tour. When he arrived at the airport Brendon barely had time to speak before Ryan pulled him into a fond embrace, one that said everything that needed to be said without words.

Brendon needed him, and Ryan needed Brendon. It wasn’t ideal being apart like this so much but they’d each grown individually, grown less codependent, perhaps, though they still didn’t like it when they were apart. In that sense, they almost pined, which was ridiculous, because they were married. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together- though, looking at Brendon’s workload, it was now more like forty to fifty percent of their lives that were spent together. It sucked, but they had to try and find some kind of work-life balance. If Ryan was more active it would be even more difficult which was even more of a dilemma because though Brendon wanted Ryan to be around all the time when he was home, he also wanted him to get back into creating because when he didn’t he just turned into some kind of recluse and Brendon had to coax him out of his shell so he was doing something actually productive with his time. Brendon’s downfall, though, was having little patience- so he often gave up and left Ryan alone to his own devices, to try and use up his creative juices writing little love letters on sticky notes (which was adorable, but Brendon would prefer a love song.

As it happened, Ryan’s passion for creating was reignited, but not by Brendon- by Z. So maybe Brendon was a little salty about that, but he adored Z, and there’s nobody else (apart from himself) that he’d approve of to be around Ryan. Z was Ryan’s best friend second only to Brendon, and he encouraged that, he did, but Brendon was fickle in nature, dramatic, petty and dramatic over the littlest things, and sometimes he had to crush a flare-up of jealousy when he saw Ryan and Z just strumming on guitars in the living room while he couldn’t join them, he had to go somewhere for an interview or something when he’d much rather play and write music with his husband like they used to do so often. Now, they barely found time. Brendon missed him and he was right there because they’d kind of lost that medium to bond- their relationship had by no means weakened, it was just being tested, and so far it was standing well- brendon just secretly wanted things back to normal and almost regretted convincing Ryan to leave the band in the first place. He loved his new band members, but- it would never be the same without the love of his life by his side in a new city every night.

There was something so romantic about it and Brendon sometimes considered dragging Ryan on a reunion tour, per say, with the original lineup, but there were a couple of problems with that. First of all, Brendon knew he’d get attached to the nostalgia again and it would be even more difficult to go on tour without Ryan following the reunion, and second of all, that just wasn’t Ryan’s scene anymore. He didn’t want to pressure his husband into situations where he suffered from obvious anxiety- all he wanted was for Ryan to be happy, but the tricky thing was that they were both happiest when they were together. It was just all so difficult to navigate for the two of them, it was still all uncharted territory and they just had to learn as they went along. In the coming years, they both knew things would change- but there was no uncertainty about how they felt about eachother. That would always remain the same and this wa something they’d never doubted. Brendon just had a habit of blowing things out of the water, just as he was doing now, walking out into the living room and allowing his mood to instantly drop when he realised Ryan had been spending time they could’ve spent together with Z, whom he was with all the time when Brendon wasn’t home.

It was enough to set a sleepy, barely awake Brendon off. Most things were. He stared Ryan down as he leaned over the back of the couch, clearly beckoning him closer, and just stayed put, eyes flickering around dangerously, still trying to blink himself awake. Then Z was speaking and he zeroed in on her, attentive. Surprise visit! Fair enough, Z was spontaneous, but- And actually, I was just leaving. Oh, thank god. Brendon could sulk at Ryan in peace. I have to uh... Let you two settle this silent battle. Brendon scoffed as he turned around. She was observant, and she knew them, he’d give her that. He almost heard Ryan’s eyeroll and felt like turning around and snapping at him but instead he stalked off (more like stumbled- remember, half-awake) into the kitchen, cooling off before he said something dumb. If Ryan knew what was good for him, he would leave him alone- but also, if Ryan left him alone, Brendon would wind himself up even more. It wasn’t a fun situation for Ryan, who just wanted his poor husband to get some more sleep.

He heard Ryan stand up almost instantly and then heard Z leave as he moved around the counter island to the coffee machine, messing with it with his poorly coordinated, tired movements, trying to remember how it, like, functioned. I made some, saved it for you, babe. Huh. Suddenly Brendon didn’t want any.”I’m good, actually.” He dropped his hands down by his sides and stepped away from the coffee machine, instead peering at the fruit bowl and deciding whether anything looked appetising. He’d hoped that they’d wake up and have breakfast together, but- I thought you should get some sleep, I know you never do when you’re busy, y’know... He turned and stared Ryan down across the counter island. ”You know what I get even less of? Time with my husband,” He mumbled, picking at the sleeve of his (Ryan’s) sweatshirt and looking down at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. It smelled like Ryan. He felt like taking it off out of spite, but. ”It’d be nice to prioritise that once in a while.”

But you’re awake now, and. No thanks to you. I missed you. So hey. Now under the impression that Ryan was now just trying to suck up to him, Brendon snuffed, displeased, and lifted his hand to push his hair back out of his eyes, the wide sleeve falling and bunching at his elbow before he dropped his arm back down to his side. As this happened, Ryan reached out to chance a hold on him and Brendon resisted stubbornly, though there was no practical reason why. He was just- being Brendon. Defiant. He stepped away and turned his back on Ryan again, pressing his hips against the counter to lean forward and pick up an apple from the fruit bowl, turning it over in his hands as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. ”If you missed me, you would’ve woken me up.”

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

Brendon just couldn’t understand how Ryan believed that he ‘just wasn’t much’- the first time they’d met Brendon had instantly been hooked on him, the light scruff along the defined line of his jaw, the aureate hue of his eyes, and this long, slender fingers, just how tall and how powerful a presence he was despite having such a generally relaxed disposition. As he got to know him better, things perhaps beyond what might be considered typically attractive stood out more to Brendon- the lines at the side of his mouth and how his lips quirked when he smiled, properly, the unruliness of his hair caused by the many cowlicks, even the simultaneous roughness/gentleness to his voice. Brendon thought he was breathtaking and refused to hear otherwise when Ryan went on some self-depreciating rant about how he ‘didn’t understand how he had so many fans’ because he was ‘so average’. Sure, before Brendon had come along and tidied things up a bit, sharpened up his appearance, he had been a little rough around the edges- an uncut diamond- he just needed a little more cut and clarity and voila, he was a new man. Just as pretty, in a more refined way.

Hey-y. Brendon raised his eyebrows and held up his hands defensively, because come on, it’s not like Ryan could really deny it at this point. In about half an hour he’d admitted that his favourite pastime was letting his eyes wander to Brendon, specific parts of Brendon, there was no use trying to hide it any longer. And Brendon relished the fact. He got excited just thinking about all the ways he could exploit this, tease Ryan now that he knew exactly what was going through his head whenever Brendon was innocuously at certain stages of undress, when he dropped something, maybe, and had to bend over to pick it up. Brendon was slightly evil, but he was more than willing to own that. But, you’re right. ”What, about the constant boner?” Pursing his lips, Brendon turner and let his eyes drift down, then he simply lifted his eyebrows, his mouth twisting into a smirk. ”I know.” I’ll just start acting like I hate you. That’ll work, right?

Snorting, Brendon turned back around to root through the shopping bags again, not even close to having seen everything Ryan had decided to buy him for like, no reason. Again- he wasn’t complaining. Just dumbfounded. He hoped Ryan didn’t think that he had to buy his affection, but also- there was Gucci here. Brendon would be anyone’s goddamn whore for that. It was just an added bonus that the man who treated him to all this crazy expensive shit was a man that he adored. ”Sure it will. But then, like, Spencer’ll hate me even more, like, ‘dude, why does Ryan hate you now’, and I’ll be all ‘not a clue, homie’, And you’ll need a cover story about your sudden shift in attitude. Too complicated, I say just stick with the staring.” Brendon was smiling to himself about it. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Ryan was likely preoccupied. Honestly, that man. Good thing you have plenty of assets for me to look at otherwise. Hey, assets. Yes, Ryan, you’re hilarious. Brendon looked over his shoulder and tried to flash him an unimpressed glare but he broke into a grin almost immediately and turned all the way around, pile of gifts forgotten. ”Ha, funny.”

But, yeah, shopping could wait, because Brendon sensed that something was about to happen here and he was all for that, even encouraging it, coaxing him gently as he stepped closer. Ryan, apparently, didn’t need much persuading to cut the subtextual bullshit, and he interrupted him halfway through his sentence, kissing him so that Brendon had to finish what he wanted to say in a rushed, stuttered way against his mouth before he reciprocated the kiss and moved both his hands up to cradle the sides of Ryan’s jaw, eyes fluttering shut contently. He felt so peacefully distant with Ryan’s hands at his waist that he didn’t realise at first that Ryan was trying to curl their fingers together, so he dropped his hand to make it easier. Look, we’re holding hands. Brendon burst into affectionate laughter, and cut himself off by kissing him again hastily. Getting through a few steps all at once. ”What do you mean, getting through?” He raised his eyebrows, breaking their hands apart to smooth his own against Ryan’s chest and up to cradle his jaw again. ”I intend to take my time, sir.” Sir. He hadn’t been that formal with Ryan in a long while. Now it was just playful.

your way

Brendon knew that Ryan would be pretty much completely out of loop with modern slang, especially the one that Brendon just referred to, but still, he had to laugh at the accidental proposition Ryan was making to him- considering that usually if they were alone together things escalated to be much less innocuous and casual. Not always, though. Recently (or fairly recently considering Brendon’s frequent avoidance of Ryan in the past few weeks), they had both been content to just spend time together, hanging out like normal people did. They could fool themselves that it had always been like this, that their relationship hadn’t grown from something toxic and harmful to them both, but Brendon in particular. It was difficult, they were both learning to navigate it, still learning how to act and what was acceptable. But it had been improving- until Brendon, easily frustrated and hard to please, decided he was bored of the routine and wanted to spice things up a little. He didn’t miss being treated like shit, but he missed the intense way that they used to resolve things. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud- this was his substitute, annoying Ryan into that mood and letting things continue on from there.

But Brendon was playing with fire and if Ryan found out that he was intentionally refusing his company just to get a rise out of him, because he was bored and- basically wanted a different kind of sexual gratification, things would all go to shit and he didn’t want Ryan to hate him, that wasn’t the intention here. They just hadn’t learned to communicate what they wanted properly, weren’t willing to be that vulnerable yet, they were still trying to figure out how to navigate their strange relationship in a healthy way. Brendon clearly hadn’t got the hang of that yet and it was obvious when he decided to physically move backwards instead of owning up to Ryan’s accusations and explaining why he had been so- for lack of a better word, frigid. This close and this worked up, though, Ryan’s presence pressed him into flustered honesty and he stuttered out his reasoning haughtily as if it was perfectly normal and it was ridiculous that Ryan hadn’t already figured it out. Ryan- Ryan immediately didn’t look impressed, and Brendon began to chew on his lip nervously as he waited for Ryan to react. In the past when Ryan had been angry he’d either been deathly quiet, unable to convey his emotions, or explosively angry, or a combination of them all at different points. Brendon felt the hair on his arms prickle as he waited with anxious anticipation.

Sometimes I don’t, either, Brendon. Brendon was about to scoff, but that would be unfair. It was true, they both no longer needed to be intimiate to stand eachother’s company. It was no longer the sole thing bringing them together and it still scared him. Again, he’d never say that to Ryan’s face. I didn’t think it went against your precious fucking rules to be your friend. He looked up immediately, adamant, defiant, opening his mouth as if to protest, but he then dropped his head sullenly, something in his countenance changing. ”The- ‘precious fucking rules’- are for both of our benefits. You know that. We agreed. Don’t fucking pull that on me.” Hypocritical coming from Brendon, who had just given away his game plan. Still, he was obnoxious by nature and straightened up, trying to regain some surety in his defence, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his chin up to Ryan to stare him down as best he could, which- was difficult. He looked genuinely angry. Brendon’s eyes flicked around Ryan’s features rapidly, and he didn’t realise he was holding his breath.

He was about to say something, break the torturous silence, but Ryan was faster, caught him off guard and pinned him against the side of the bus with relative ease considering Brendon was too blindsided to resist or complain. Plus, once he was held there, he didn’t particularly want to. Which is it, Brendon, ‘sometimes I just don’t wanna fuck’, or you want me to fuck you harder? Brendon’s voice caught in his throat and all he could do for a good few seconds was stare, wide-eyed, until he composed himself enough to smirk and retort, ”I dunno, darlin’, have you got it in you?” Probably a poor choice of response, but then Brendon had very little sense of self preservation. We’ve got a hotel right behind us, and go fucking figure, your genius plan worked. I’m pissed at you. It probably wasn’t good that Brendon’s only coherent thought for a moment was ‘score’. He was also incredibly intimidated and turned on and this quickly brought out his dismally submissive side. He wet his lips and tore his gaze away from Ryan’s just to look at the hotel, then looked back, silent.

Brendon almost flinched when Ryan brought his hand up to brush against his jaw, and he was in the process of going lax against the cold metal of the bus. So pick. He risked a glance behind them again. Everyone from the other buses had unloaded and were about fifty feet away going towards the hotel by now. Unless somebody was late to wake up, they were relatively alone. He supposed risky was their brand at this point. ”I- I want you to fuck me,” He admitted, but he could barely look Ryan in the eye. He had reduced him into this so quickly and Brendon had been convinced that he had the upper hand. Oh well. ”But, uh, if you still wanna watch that movie...”

old fashioned

First impressions told Brendon that Ryan was a man of, well, not few words, but concise ones, not simple and in fact flowery in vocabulary but he didn’t go on, he got to the point. Brendon adored his manner and his way of speaking and when Ryan opened his mouth to talk he hushed, trying not to let his gaze drift too obviously to his mouth. He couldn’t be too easy, what was the fun in that, but then Ryan was smiling at him in a way that Brendon could have sworn was fond (their total interaction time was barely a few hours at this point, bearing in mind), and Brendon figured that it was easier said than done. And he proved himself right when he made increasingly daring moves by- uh- gay standards, his foot nudging against Ryan to try and move this along and indicate that yes, he was interested, very much so. It was often he met someone he felt this drawn to and he supposed some deity was looking out for them due to the fact that they were already acquainted and they’d met again for the second time in a bar that was tolerant with a tolerant owner. As Brendon drew his leg back, he briefly closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars but they didn’t stay closed for long as he immediately desired to look at his new object of interest again.

He was handsome and his smile was endearingly gorgeous but his smirk was a killer, and Brendon was usually the bold one, but he couldn’t even look Ryan in the eye for very long before he became flustered and had to look elsewhere, into his glass, at Dallon, down at the bar, at his own hands, anywhere. And it was a shame that eye contact was so intense because- Brendon had gone on and would continue to go on about Ryan’s eyes, and- well. The gist of it was that Brendon was enamoured already and he fully intended on getting to know his bootlegger a lot better in a variety of ways. Even before they’d been alone or openly talked about any of this, Brendon was conjuring up fantasy situations, eyes on his hair wondering what it felt like between his fingers, eyes on his mouth wondering what he tasted like and hoping he’d get the opportunity to find out this and more very soon. Ryan was the one who made the next move and Brendon was more than happy to return it almost immediately, resting their legs together in what was probably the riskiest thing they’d done so far. Not everybody was so oblivious to more suggestive behaviour. Oh well, Brendon thought, he’d risked it all before for- less than innocuous reasons, if he could do it for less fine people, he could do it for this handsome criminal sat beside him. Not a difficult decision to make.

Then they were talking in double entendres and it wasn’t long after they’d both settled into a comfortable-yet-electric silence that Brendon decided that there really was no point in wasting any more time sat here chatting while they could be wasting time in a much more favourable way in private. He finished his drink and cleared his throat to catch Ryan’s attention (not that Ryan’s attention had left him since he spotted him on a barstool to his right, then made a breezy excuse, purposefully brushing against Ryan as he left and making a leisurely beeline towards the bathrooms. Once he was inside he let the door fall shut quietly and paced immediately to the mirror, lifting his mask momentarily into his hair and examining his reflection, smiling in satisfaction and then pulling his mask back over his eyes, flattening a hand over his hair to smooth it down until he was finally content with his appearance and he turned around and took a step forward as soon as the door opened. There was a moment where his breath hitched because god he hoped it was actually Ryan and- well, it was. ”Fancy seeing y-“Brendon was smiling but it quickly faded when Ryan locked the door and wasted no time in backing him up against the sink. He fell silent and swallowed as Ryan lifted his hands to frame his face. You don’t mind...?

”Not at all,” Brendon responded, eyes not resting as they flicked from one part of Ryan’s face to the next, drinking him in without subtlety now they no longer required discretion. He remained obediently still as Ryan lifted away the mask and set it aside and after he did, Brendon returned the favour, reaching up to remove Ryan’s and put it with his own. God. Brendon blinked and willed his stupid heart to slow down a little, they’d barely touched eachother, this was ridiculous. When I saw you for the first time, I didn't think I'd be lucky enough for someone this handsome to... be interested. Bullshit. ”I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” A pause, he had to stop, as Ryan presses closer and fit his hands around his waist. Not fair, he was trying to speak. ”You’re just my type.” Understatement of the century, Brendon thought, amused at himself. But it was hard to remain lighthearted when Ryan was looking agbhim like that. Mr. Blake, to be perfectly candid, usually I become better acquainted first. His next words came out quickly, tumbling past his lips with barely a breath inbetween. ”YoucancallmeBrendon.” A pause, he laughed nervously. Embarassing. ”Please.”

I can multitask. Tell me about yourself- I like the sound of your voice. Yeah, not gonna happen, did Ryan not just hear him, he couldn’t even speak properly. Brendon pursed his lips and opened his mouth to speak but suddenly Ryan was pressing kisses along his jaw and he had to remain silent for a whole five seconds before he composed himself enough to start. ”So this what you’re doing, is it,” He breathed, ”Y’wanna kill me.” Yes, he was melodramatic, but he was allowed to be. Anyway, what- oh yeah, talking about himself. What the hell did Ryan want to know? “I, uh, I’m a musician, I-” Ryan was working on unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and Brendon stopped, lifted a hand to curl into the hair at the back of Ryan’s head (it was soft, so soft), keeping him there insistently. ”I play music-” So, he’d blanked. Brendon would have laughed but he was having trouble staying upright so he reached back with his free hand and gripped onto the edge of the sink for support. ”And- I’m a fool for gorgeous men like yourself.”

sorry to get sentimental tonight

As Brendon teased his now-fiancé about the unusual nature of his impromptu proposal, he felt his heart swell with affection, fully enamoured by Ryan’s weak, sheepish smile. He was positive he’d never been more in love with him as he was at that moment- and that just went to say that he didn’t need Whatever grand gesture Ryan had intended to make this. Hell, Brendon had no idea he was even planning to- they hadn’t even mentioned it, their official relationship had been that short. The suddenness with which Ryan asked Brendon to marry him told Brendon that it had been genuine and honest and soul-bearing in a moment of heat and intense vulnerability and Brendon honestly couldn’t think of any other way to top it. He felt lightheated, a deep indescribable feeling settling in his bones, and he trailed his fingertips across the familiar expanses of skin beneath him, exhaling softly. Then Ryan let his head fall back against the headboard and Brendon couldn’t help but break into spontaneous laughter, because yeah, it was more than enough for him, but it also so damn funny. Clearly he had been doing something right to prompt such a serious reaction. God, they were ridiculous. Brendon loved it. I suppose.

”M-hm,” Brendon muttered absently, closing his hand around Ryan’s wrist and lifting it to examine his jewellery-laden hands. A few of them, Brendon saw, he’d had for a very long time- he recalled seeing them back when they first met (yes, he was that enthralled by his hands, of all things), and he smiled a little, betraying his feelings of nostalgia. He was too absorbed in examining Ryan’s rings one by one to notice his tiny smirk. Engraved. They’ll match. ”Oh yeah?” Still, Brendon was a little distracted, pressing his lips against the back of Ryan’s hand. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about a ring- having one would seal the deal, he supposed- but Brendon wasn’t overly fussed with technicality or grand gestures at this point. He didn’t need a ring to be comfortable in the knowledge that they would be wed for as long as they lived. However- when Ryan took off one of his rings, a simple, plain band, and slipped it onto Brendon’s ring finger, he had to stop for a second, entranced, biting his lip. Here’s a placeholder, for now. Fuck. Brendon tore his eyes away and met Ryan’s before he quickly leaned in to catch him in a brief kiss. ”I- I like that. I want people to know I’m yours.” And that you are mine. Brendon felt- not possessiveness, but- connection. He wanted people to know he was in love.

Seriousness aside, Brendon could always be trusted to be irritating and he dutifully carried this out by pressing his hips down teasingly, immediately cracking up into laughter at Ryan’s admirable attempt at not visibly reacting. He was cute. Brendon again leaned in to catch his bottom lip between his teeth and then they fit into place naturally, heads tilting opposite ways to settle into a comfortable kiss. Hm, maybe later. He had been joking, but that sounded appealing. He hummed his approval as they moved apart, both just gazing into eachother’s eyes, disgustingly in love. It was embarassing, unrealistic, seemingly impossible, but they’d found eachother- Brendon would almost go far enough to say that they were soulmates. I’ve got a headache. Yeah, he felt Ryan’s pain. ”No headache, but I’m gonna fuckin’ hurt tomorrow,” He mumbled, sighing and letting himself go slack to rest his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder, letting his eyes flutter shut. He was close to drifting off almost immediately, but Ryan rudely interrupted. I’m gonna do it again, you know. Second take. You won’t have a clue.

Brendon lifted his head lazily and raised his eyebrows. ”Well, now you’ve told me, I think I’ll have an idea. Dumbass.” He giggled, dropping his head back down and laughing against Ryan’s warm skin. Warm. Soft. Brendon really just wanted to go to sleep, if Ryan would just let him... Totally gonna blow this proposal out of the water so you don’t get to tell anyone about it. At this, Brendon made an immediate noise of protest, defiantly lifting his head up to stare at Ryan, unimpressed. ”Whaddya mean, not fuckin’ tell anyone? That was- as I said- the best sex we’ve ever had. You proposed, like, right before you-“ Brendon stopped, frowned. ”I need a shower. Anyway, if you think I’m not gonna tell anyone. Sorry, baby. I’m sure Spencer will be thrilled to know. I’ll tell him myself so he has time to calm down before he reaches you.”

Which you’re not allowed to do, by the way. Brendon snorted, then shifted, rolling off to the side and crashing unceremoniously onto the mattress, turning onto his front and burying his head into the pillow. He chose to ignore that. This is seriously not the grand gesture I had in mind. Worked for me, Brendon thought, rolling his eyes. Honestly, Ryan was too much. He loved him, but c’mon, babe. Chill. We’re engaged, isn’t that good enough? I’m gonna blow your mind, baby. Brendon lifted his head from his folded arms so Ryan could hear him speak. “Not to ruin your epic proposal dreams, but. You just did blow my mind. Thought that was pretty evident. You’re really something.” He smiled, sheepish at how easy he was, and buried his face in his arms again, letting his eyes fall shut. A shower could wait.

your way

Love and adoration followed him to pretty much every corner of the earth, that was true, love and adoration from both Brendon’s fans and apparently Ryan, though it was definitely too fat to call it ‘love’- it was more infatuation, some kind of deep-seated obsession that had started in a toxic place and was on a steady decline back down to that negativity. Not that things had ever been all sunshine and soft kisses, things borne from such a background could never really be normal or healthy. But- they were getting there, had been getting there. Brendon harboured real fondness for Ryan, not just attraction. And it wasn’t bizarre anymore. It felt normal. He had grown used to his company and he supposed that familiarity made his heart grow fonder as time passed by and they were attracted to eachother like magnets, swerving back almost immediately into eachother’s lanes when they had reunited at the start of this tour. But- though Brendon was arguably happy when he was with Ryan, most of the time, doing normal dumb shit like snacking themselves into a food coma and playing video games hours into the night- he was afraid. Afraid to grow too attached, because they had already proven that dating- wouldn’t really work. Brendon reminded himself of this a lot when his romantic daydreams (yes, he had them, sue him) became too fanciful and unrealistic.

So, he became distant almost to protect himself from being hurt- but also simply because it was entertaining to watch Ryan vie for his attention no mater how many times Brendon refused his company, rebuked his offers, turned down propositions. He had him wrapped around his little finger and he relished in being able to drive him crazy- maybe it was some leftover spite from their days of absolutely hating eachothers guts. Who knew. Brendon had managed to resist Ryan for a while now, which was an achievement he was proud of. Just- just look at Ryan, he was tall, his hair was curly and dark, his eyes a soulful gold, his hands were art- of course it was an achievement. Brendon was proud of himself for not immediately dropping to his knees for him every damn time they ended up alone. He didn’t have a problem admitting that anymore- what he was more apprehensive to say was that he enjoyed just hanging out with him even more than he enjoyed their physical intimacy. And that was saying something. It frightened him. So he stepped back- for his own amusement, for his own protection, for his own gain. Maybe it was a little unreasonable. To say the least.

And now, Here Ryan was, baited into confronting him about Brendon’s frequent rejections of his advances. He had expected it but he hadn’t expected to enjoy himself this much, enjoy watching Ryan pursue him. It was probably a little twisted but it made him feel wanted and if this meant that when he did accept, Ryan put a little more effort than usual into things, it would be worth it. For both of them. Win-win. If you wanted to watch a movie? Aw. So he really did have no idea what he was insinuating. Adorable. Brendon cracked a smile and tilted his head. ”You need to like, catch up on a lot of shit,” He advised. ”By asking me, your secret ‘lover’, let’s say, to watch Netflix with you, alone, you’re implying- you know what, nevermind.” He couldn’t be bothered bringing Ryan up to speed on current pop culture and slang. Having dropped it, he stepped back to lean against the bus and Ryan dutifully followed. Man, he was intense when he was like this. And then- then he looked genuinely downcast. Brendon’s eyebrows raised minutely, surprised by his own effect. He’d expected frustration, not- not this. Whatever, man.

‘Whatever’? No, that’s not what he wanted, Brendon thought, alarms going off suddenly. He didn’t want to drive Ryan away, that was the last thing he wanted. Brendon swallowed uncomfortably. I’m fine. Sure, you look it. Just thinking it’d be nice of you to say that you don’t want this rather than stringing me along. A little stunned, Brendon pressed himself closer against the side of the bus simultaneously as Ryan stepped back, unsure of what to say, eyeing him helplessly for a few moments. The last thing he wanted was some emotional conversation and apparently here he was being dumped into one. He went with his first instinct- rebuttal as self-defence. Hiding any vulnerability. Worked every time. ”I’m not stringing you along. Sometimes, I just don’t wanna fuck. Is that too difficult for you to believe?” Honestly... yeah, it probably was. Everything Brendon was doing was clearly intentionally to rile Ryan up. Denial wouldn’t hide that. Brendon, what did I do? Out of curiousity.

Well, what was he supposed to say? ‘You didn’t do anything, I just wanted to get all your frustration pent up so you’d fuck me harder next time’? ‘I’m terrified of allowing myself to become vulnerable around you’? ‘I actually really like spending time with you and it scares me’? None of them sounded like particularly good options. Brendon clicked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest, drawing himself up straight to at least appear a little taller. Ryan was slouching a little so it kind of worked. ”Nothing. Just wanted you to be a little riled up for next time, that’s all.” Of course he went for that one. The one that would make Ryan the angriest. Of fucking course he did.