Neve

i don’t want to hear you’ve got a boyfriend

Although they probably didn’t see it like that in the moment, Zack and their driver were probably lucky. After all, it could be worse- a) Brendon could be drunk, too, and everyone knew they were barely capable of being appropriate even when they weren’t intoxicated, or b) Ryan could recognise Brendon as his beloved significant other and Brendon would be doing very little to put a stop to his affection. In fact, he’d be encouraging such behaviour. The two of them together at the best of times was completely lawless. So, the two in the front were lucky- but for Brendon, who had missed his boyfriend since he’d been kicked out of the venue, it kind of sucked because Ryan wouldn’t even let him steal a kiss, even if the reasoning was ridiculously sweet and flattering. Look at me, he thought, reproachfully; if you think I’m so pretty how come you don’t even realise who I am? Still, it was endearing. After a moment Brendon realised contentedly that he couldn’t be annoyed about it if he tried; it was all just amusing. Brendon couldn’t wait to inform Ryan of exactly how wasted he was, so wasted that he didn’t realise he was sat in the car next to the love of his life.

Even so, he was surprised and a little disgruntled about that initial rejection, panicking for a split second and worrying he’d done something gravely wrong, somehow. No- Ryan was just a drunk dumbass. Yes, really. Brendon pursed his lips and his eyes followed Ryan’s hand as he removed it from his chest. Then, he tried to make eye contact, but Ryan could barely even think straight, never mind see straight. ”I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one little kiss,” He murmured, because although it was very unlikely Ryan would even entertain that for a second, Brendon was pretty desperate. Quickly giving up and realising that he wouldn’t exactly be very happy if Ryan did kiss somebody he thought wasn’t Brendon, he moved on, choosing to sarcastically compliment him instead- wasn’t he such a lucky guy, the proud partner of someone who didn’t even recognise him. How sweet. Yeah. A small smile crept up to tug at the corner of his mouth. That’s how he talks. I love that. Funny, Ryan always told him it was annoying when he spoke like a ‘straight fuckboy’. This was interesting new information. ”He sounds pretty lame.”

When Brendon tried to amuse himself by asking Ryan if his boyfriend (him) was pretty, he didn’t realise he’d prompt such an animated reaction from a man who was clearly about five seconds from falling asleep at any given moment. As he started to rummage around, Brendon felt a strong impulse to run his fingers through his hair and lean in to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth, but Ryan clearly wasn’t fond of ‘cheating’. How could one be so sweet and so, so stupid? Pretty. Brendon blinked in surprise as Ryan lurched over into the middle seat, shot a hand out to steady him a little. He’s fucking- he’s the hottest man alive, I’m telling you. ...Ryan was never shy with the compliments, but he hadn’t expected such adamancy; not that he was complaining. Brendon never denied an opportunity to have his ego stroked, especially or even specifically by his boyfriend. ”Nah, I’m looking st the hottest man alive right now,” He grinned, again resisting the urge to hold onto his jaw and tilt him into a kiss. I first saw him, and I swear... Whatever Ryan was about to say, Brendon wasn’t convinced in the slightest and he didn’t even have to finish. Casting his thoughts back to have he looked when they met- he was a greasy teenager with an atrocious haircut and the most obnoxious personality on the planet. Then again, Ryan was similar by means of greasiness and haircut quality. So he supposed, to eachother, at the time, they were relatively hot, or something. Brendon didn’t get it. He looked back and was mortified by their collective appearance.

Ryan was thrusting his phone into Brendon’s view and he looked down expectantly at his screen. A picture of the two of them, naturally- a new one, Ryan had clearly recently changed it. Look. He’s the... the one on the right. I’m right here, darling, He thought, nodding slowly in acknowledgment. ”Yup. That’s him.” You can’t tell from this, ‘cause it’s, like, it’s just us, but if you could see his ass, oh my God. Oh. Alright. Zero to a hundred really fast- but Brendon wasn’t complaining, he broke out into a wide grin and raised an eyebrow suggestively, evil little cogs whirring in his mind as he planned out how he was going to exploit Ryan’s currently loose tongue. ”What about it?” He wears these tight jeans that make it so hard not to stare. Brendon knew just the ones and was absolutely delighted- he was even heating up, not because of embarassment because Zack was right fucking there, but because Ryan always managed to make him flustered somehow. And, like, think about anything but, you know. ”Like what?” He asked immediately, fully willing to risk Zack choking him later on.

more than just a dream

River knew what his father was doing here, but wasn’t exactly sure why he had to turn up- he knew absolutely no one and wasn’t even the slightest bit involved in his father’s business. He had no plans to be. In fact, whenever somebody had tried to explain the whole ‘Rothschild-Livingston’ feud story to him, he kind of just tuned out because he didn’t care. Personally, he thought it was fucking stupid and didn’t the two grown men have bigger problems than have petty fights over which ridiculously rich man was the richest? Didn’t the world have more important things to care about than the privileged kids of said grown men? Apparently not. River was sick of it, but he wasn’t exactly confrontational and didn’t tend to argue just because it was exhausting to argue with his persistent father; so most of the time he just hung around in the background, or else when he wasn’t being shadowed by John, he used this platform he had been thrust upon to actually talk about the shit he cared about. A little cliche, really- some rich boy pretending he was hard-done to and becoming an environmental and social activist to make up for it.

At least River was self-aware. It was a fancy occasion that he and his family had been spitefully invited to; John had reminded him that when they were at his tailors and getting suits fitted. River nodded along, having barely paid attention, and just bought the first one he had even tried on. Plain black, relatively inexpensive. Before they’d left River had stared disinterestedly at his reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out Gay the hell he should do with his hair, which had grown a little too long at this point (he reminded himself to get a haircut soon). Eventually he just swept it back a little and let it do whatever the fuck it wanted. Again, cliche. Once he was ready he’d again quietly asked why he even had to come, but his dead just huffed, clearly flustered and more wound up about the whole thing than he cared to admit, and insisted that the invitation was addressed to the ‘Rothschild household’- that included River and all of his siblings. Great. So there was no getting out of it. With barely the twitch of an eyebrow he climbed into the car, leaning against the window. Honestly, he just wanted to go to sleep.

On the way there, he did just that, slipping briefly into unconsciousness. Nobody else around him seemed alarmed- his younger brother just glanced at him every so often to make sure he was alright. Before they knew it, they were at the venue, some ridiculous banquet hall, and River could see the envy and frustration burning in John’s eyes. He rolled his own and stepped out of the car once it came to a stop, standing aside so the rest of his family could pour out of the car, including his dad, who was trying much too hard to look dignified, so much so that it was obvious how mortified he was by this whole thing. But it would have been even more mortifying not to show up, or something. River barely cared. He just trailed behind the rest of his family, running a hand through his hair to move it out from behind his glasses, and lingered for a second awkwardly while John and the Livingston monarch (George?) reunited very tensely at the door.

His eyes drifted. He was bored already of this pompous, melodramatic shit. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone- two people, even, two boys, he thought, though one of them was kind of androgynous. They looked about his age. River recognised neither of them and just blinked as the shorter one made eye contact and held it as he pushed out of the door with his back. It seemed like the dark-haired one was looking at him, too, and River was a little disconcerted- but also his interested was piqued, especially now that they had revealed an escape to him. Looking back at his family, his siblings were mingling a ways off together, his dad and Livingston were still talking, and their wives were muttering to eachother but keeping a keen eye on their husbands. Wonderful. Nobody would miss him. Waiting a few more long moments just to be sure, River then weaved between people who hadn’t yet caught wind of his arrival and after a pause by the exit, he left the building the same way that the two others had.

Immediately he heard voices and stood close to the wall like he was trying to stay hidden. He wasn’t- it was just subconscious. River tried not to listen in because he knew he’d get half of a conversation with no context and that was good for nobody. What he did hear, though, was nonsense that he didn’t even begin to try and piece together; ‘fuck me eyes’, ‘you’re very expressive’, ‘I want you to fuck off’. What he did get that was tangible, though, were two names. The tall, dark one was Scott, the shorter and prettier one was- well, it began with A. River cleared his throat and took a step forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. ”Hey. I saw you guys come outside and- well, it seemed smarter than taking part in the circus.” He twisted around and cast a glance back at the door, then tilted his head a little and fixed his eyes on... Ari? ”This might sound a little rude, but I feel like I should know who you are.” A pause. ”And I don’t.”

i don’t want to hear you’ve got a boyfriend

When Zack has told him that he and the rest of the crew had decided to kick Ryan out long before the show even started, Brendon had whined his complaints, argued that Ryan didn’t distract him, they just hung out, he was never late to go on stage- but the show previous they’d been recklessly hooking up during the damn countdown and that was all the evidence the crew needed to confirm that Brendon and Ryan were incapable of keeping their hands off eachother while they were alone for longer than, like, two minutes. So Brendon had nothing to stand on. After a while of just grumbling, he sought out Ryan, told him the bad news, and they managed a brief, public defiant kiss before Zack was hauling his very reluctant boyfriend out into the street. Honestly, it was embarrassing- they could be decent, they weren’t animals. It had just kind of become ritual at this point- even when Ryan was still in the band, they had a reputation for holding everyone up while they were busy making out in the dressing room, or something. Huh, so maybe Zack had a point.

Once Brendon had finished the show and bounded backstage, running entirely on adrenaline, he immediately dug his phone out from under piles of clothes and checked it- predictably, most of his notifications were texts from Ryan. He predicted from the poor spelling and persistence of his messages that Ryan was more than a little tipsy, and he was frankly excited to see that. It wasn’t often that Ryan became that undone- usually he was the one looking after a drunk Brendon who could barely stand up. Once he answered his phone and Zack located him, Brendon quickly got changed into something warmer (it had been really hot inside the stadium when he’d been sweating excessively but once he stepped out into the night it was freezing) and then climbed into the car, texting Ryan a simple ‘I love you too’ and then waiting for ten minutes until they pulled up outside the bar. Zack had quickly headed inside to receive their package and moments later his baby was curled up against the window in some kind of state, and Brendon was both endeared and amused, looking forward to making fun of him the following morning.

Though it was funny, he was still a mess, and Brendon reproachfully muttered that it would have been easier for everyone if they’d just let Ryan stay. So what if they spent some valuable time fooling around when Brendon should be getting ready? The shows were always incredible. Zack was just a control freak. Anyway. He wasn’t too bothered so he dropped it and then leaned over to make sure Ryan was fastened in when he clearly couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do it himself. Loud. Brendon grinned as he slid his hand affectionately down Ryan’s chest. ”Sorry, baby,” He said soothingly, but it wasn’t as sympathetic as Ryan maybe would have liked. When he met Ryan’s eyes he could tell he wasn’t fully with it but he leaned in anyway to steal a kiss, a little deprived after hours of being apart from him. Yeah, Ryan was drunk, but what he didn’t expect was for his usually devoted boyfriend to both curl his hand restrictively around Brendon’s, and then pull back violently in response to Brendon leaning in. He was stunned.

Woah, hey. Hey what? Brendon paused, baffled, and then pulled back, extremely affronted. His lips were parted and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His mind began to race- had he done anything wrong? Had he not argued enough against Ryan being kicked out? He was lost. And kind of annoyed. But Ryan was drunk, he tried not to look too upset. I have a boyfriend. ”Wh-” Brendon’s eyebrows raised and it took him another few moments before he realised what was happening here. Ryan didn’t even know who he was. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that Ryan was so violently rejecting someone he assumed to be a stranger, or offended that he didn’t even recognise his own lover. Honestly. What a state. Still, Brendon was less annoyed, now, having been provided an explanation, and he sat back, pursing his lips. Oh really,” He said dryly, looking down at Ryan’s hand when he pressed it against his chest to push him away. What a dumbass.

Still, this could be a good opportunity. Brendon’s apprehensive grimace fell away into a mischievous smile. ”What a lucky boy.” Zack laughed. Brendon shot him a glare. This was not helping his ego. He’s famous, so you better... be careful. I’m spoken for. Brendon stifled a laugh and leaned back against his side of the car, letting his head fall against the window. ”Famous? That’s dope, dude.” A pause, he tilted his head as if extremely interested. He wanted to see what he could get an intoxicated Ryan to say about him when he didn’t think that- Brendon was the real him. This could be a fascinating insight. ”What’s he like, then? Is he pretty?”

i don’t want to hear you’ve got a boyfriend

Yeah, it sucked that Brendon couldn’t be with his boyfriend all the time, and he made that very clear during every single show where he stopped for a few seconds to talk about how he missed home, how many shows they’d done, how many were left. It was just fortunate for him that his security thought Ryan was harmless enough that he could be allowed pretty much wherever he pleased- well, the harmlessness, and the fact he and the frontman of the band were an item, and Ryan used to be the guitarist for said band. He still held onto some of those privileges and he sometimes fooled new crew members into thinking he was still part of it, Brendon had been told. He found it likely; he figured if some interns couldn’t even spell his name correctly, there would be some rookies who weren’t even sure of the lineup. Anyway, Ryan had free roam- almost. The night previous Brendon had impulsively brought him up onto the stage for one of the most meaningful parts of the show, where he draped himself in colourful pride flags and the fans shone their phone flashlights through the coloured hearts, all of that. It was an ecstatic moment, but Zack seemed to think it had diverted too much from the strict plan, so for the next show Ryan wasn’t allowed near him at all, save to say goodbye and good luck before the show.

Of course, they were both stubbornly obsessed with eachother so it was difficult to keep them apart- eventually, after they were discovered rendezvousing in Brendon’s dressing room when he was supposed to be, y’know, getting dressed, Zack physically removes Ryan from the premises and when he came back he told Brendon that he’d instructed Ryan to go entertain himself some other way. Though Brendon missed him, and regretful that they only managed to steal a few kisses before they had been tragically forced apart, he was amused by it all, and just smiled and shook his head. The question was- would Ryan be able to entertain himself for that long? God knows what he was out doing. Brendon’s best bet was that he just went back to the buses- or the hotel, Brendon couldn’t remember where they were sleeping tonight- And was either asleep or reading something, maybe absently scrolling through his phone. He wasn’t sure. Either way, there wasn’t much time free for Brendon to think about that- the show was about to start and though he thought fondly of his love during associated songs like death of a bachelor and nine in the afternoon, for the most part he was fully in show mode.

As such, he didn’t even think about Ryan again until he’d finished the final song, picked up his discarded t-shirt and walked off stage back to his dressing room. Only then did he notice that Ryan wasn’t around waiting for him as he kind of expected, believing that Zack would cave and let him wait around towards the end of the show. But Ryan wasn’t there, so he sought out Zack and asked him about his whereabouts- Zack didn’t know either. Brendon wasn’t worried. He was probably asleep or something, that’s why he didn’t answer his phone when Zack texted him or called for the first time. Just in case, though, after he’d very quickly showered and changed into fresh clothes, he waited while Zack called for the second time and listened when Ryan finally picked up. All he heard at first was an unintelligible mumble, and Zack immediately asked him if he was drunk. The corners of Brendon’s mouth pulled up into a disbelieving smile- if he was, the rest of tonight was going to be fun. Ryan didn’t get drunk often so Brendon relished the chance to see it and tease him about it. Not the drunkest I’ve ever been. Brendon stifled a laugh, thought back to the drunkest Ryan had ever been and raised his eyebrows. The bar was pretty high there, so it was likely that his lightweight boyfriend was fucking wasted. Cute. ”Dumbass,” He shouted, hoping the receiver picked it up.

Zack paused and then asked where he was. Brendon followed him as he went towards their driver and stood by as his bodyguard instructed them where to go to pick up a lost Ryan. Clearly he was past it, because he heard him asking someone else where he was. Honestly. And he called Brendon that one that was hard to control. Leave Ryan alone for three, four hours, and this happened. Increasingly amused by the way events were playing out, he got into the back of the car and Zack got into the passenger seat, before they headed off to the random bar that Ryan had found himself in. Ten minutes later, they stopped outside some decent-looking place and Brendon was about to get out of the car but Zack said he had it handled so Brendon shrugged and settled back down. He supposed it would be more difficult for him, who was dismally little, to drag a much taller and reasonably stronger man out of a bar and bundle him into a car. He watched the door and a few moments later Zack re-emerged with a... dishevelled looking Ryan in tow. Brendon couldn’t help but grin wildly and expected a greeting when Ryan got inside, but he was turned fully the other way, staring at the window. Okay, rude. ”Dude, this is why y’should’ve let him stay.”

Where are we going? Brendon paused, looked him up and down. He was such a mess. Brendon loved him so much. He was trying hard not to beam with affection so he suppressed it and prodded him in the side, trying to get his attention. ”Hotel. Hi, by the way,” He said loudly. ”Good to see you too, handsome.” Leaning over, He fastened Ryan’s seatbelt and smoothed a hand over his chest. Idiot. I’m going to sleep. Huh. The ‘caring boyfriend’ part of him was relieved, Ryan needed to sleep this off. The ‘amused bastard’ part of him wanted Ryan to stay awake so he could have further entertainment. The latter won over the former and he leaned in, anticipating kissing him. ”Not on my watch.”

i could be better but baby

In Brendon’s opinion, he didn’t have a drinking problem, nor did he even have a problem drinking- he just liked to enjoy himself, let go, have fun, worry about it later- or never. These days, Ryan was doing the worrying for him, the worrying he’d never bothered to do for himself. And since he wasn’t used to people caring so much about his questionable habits (or they were intimidated by a playboy brat and didn’t want to criticise for fear of rebuke/losing favour), it did get a little too much sometimes when Ryan sighed exasperatedly when he said he was going out at like, 3am, just because he didn’t really understand. He’d lived a lot of his life like this and had been surrounded by the same crowd his whole life- reckless little privileged teenagers who had grown into reckless little privileged adults. Though Ryan was the man who knew him and loved him best, he came from outside of that scene, way outside. Hell, he barely even drank himself. That never bothered Brendon, he just didn’t quite get it. But he’d let Ryan get on with his own thing on the condition that Ryan let him get on with his.

Sure, he was an asshole when he was drunk. He’d been told that by hundreds of people. But it was fun, and it wasn’t like he was doing it every night, not even really that close- so he did it, went out, partied, the king of the scene, almost, the spoiled prince, and then was chauffeured or carried home by either Gabe, Ryan, or someone that his father had paid to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get mugged, or something. The only issue was there was that Brendon was always, shall we say, frisky when he was intoxicated- at least, when Ryan was within view and reach. Ryan, regrettably, refused to even engage with his drunken flirting when he was really gone. Which sucked, but not enough for Brendon to not get absolutely wasted. There would always be other times with Ryan, always, he concluded, and continued to go out in the evenings til the early mornings with a sound mind. Some nights weren’t even that bad, Brendon could handle himself, Ryan was more amused than anything by his princess of a boyfriend, they went to bed after some coaxing from Ryan and woke up to deal with Brendon’s relatively mild hangover. It was a routine. Brendon never thought to ask if Ryan was actually happy with it- nobody else he’d been close to had ever called it into question. So, that was- well, just Gabe.

Last night, though, had been one of those nights where Brendon and just come completely undone, a hot mess, having lost shoes and other items of clothing throughout the night, his childminder Ryan having lost count of how many drinks he’d consumed so far. Luckily, Brendon was a happy drunk, amongst other traits. He rambled on to Ryan about places they should visit and things they should do until he was falling asleep on the stool and Ryan took advantage of his pliancy to guide him away from the bar, final drink forgotten, and into the back of his chauffeured car so they could go back to Brendon’s apartment and make sure his hangover wasn’t too unbearable. It wasn’t. Brendon had endured a lifetime of hangovers and it wasn’t even the worst one he’d had, not even recently, not even close. The only difference was that Ryan had been his supervisor, not some detached employee. Ryan, his boyfriend, the man who loved him. But that wasn’t Brendon’s fault. He expected Ryan to just be like ‘here we go again’ and carry on as normal, tease him in the morning about the things he did the night previous that he couldn’t remember. But when he woke up, Ryan was noticeably quiet. Brendon chose to ignore it.

He was rooting through the cupboards looking for a snack when he heard Ryan speak. They’d been awake for a few hours and though the air wasn’t tense, something was up, the room was slightly unsettled when they fell into a silence that they usually didn’t mind. Brendon had woken up with painkillers, water and coffee on his bedside table and he’d texted Ryan to tell him he was awake- Ryan had almost immediately wandered in and Brendon offered him a charming, grateful grin. They’d murmured the usual automatic ‘I love you’s and shared a chaste, brief, sleepy kiss. Brendon smiled against his lips, but Ryan had pulled back before Brendon could drag him back into bed, and excused himself. About half an hour later Brendon had gotten dressed into just some clean underwear and a hoodie of Ryan’s he’d pulled from his collection, and since then they’d just been hanging out in the kitchen, a lazy and odd lull over their heads. Until Ryan started to talk, with purpose behind his tone. Brendon, baby.

Those two words together could mean a lot of things for Brendon. Usually, it was just to get his attention. Sometimes it was particularly loving and affectionate, sometimes passionate, but then- it could be like that, serious, quiet, and Brendon recognised it, knew Ryan was about to either say some irrelevant or dumb or pointless shit that Brendon didn’t need to hear. So he immediately stopped rooting through the cupboards and dropped his hands to his sides, dropping onto his heels again as he’d been straining to reach the top shelf. He didn’t turn around, just stared exasperatedly into the open cupboard. ”Ryan, darlin’?” Came his patient response, a moment before he shut the cupboard and turned around, leaning with the small of his back against the edge of the counter. Here we go. Brendon ran a hand through his persistent bedhead and blinked at him expectantly.

Last night- you probably don’t remember, but... it didn’t look good. Charming. Brendon raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by that choice of vocabulary. But now he knew what Ryan was about to say and he was sick of this conversation already. When you drink like that... you have no idea how worried it makes me. Brendon stared at his boyfriend who in turn was staring into his coffee. Honestly, he was so sick of fucking lectures. He’d done just fine without Ryan before this, he was still alive, for God’s sake. Ryan suddenly thought Brendon was going to die of alcohol poisoning or something. Though he was immediately defensive, he said nothing, just inhaled sharply and folded his arms tightly across his chest, challenging Ryan to meet his gaze. ”Jesus, not this again. Ryan, im fine. Look at me. Do I look like an alcoholic or whatever you think I am? Fuck.”

I mean. It makes me wonder, y’know, why you need to go that far. ”Fuck off,” Brendon groaned instantly, dragging his hands down either side of his face and turning around to bend over, plant his elbows firmly on the counter and drop his head. ”I don’t need to. I want to.” He straightened and turned around, jaw clenched. ”Just leave me alone about it, alright?” He snapped testily. It’s scary. ”You know what’s scary,” He exclaimed, not thinking, just saying. ”You’re just like goddamn Shane. Trying to motherfucking control me, it’s fucking bullshit.”

pour out some liquor

So, sometimes Ryan did have business to attend to, and that business was often shady- not that Brendon had a problem with that. He’d been buying from bootleggers for a long time now. What he did have a problem with was being left alone, especially when he was feelinf extra affectionate; what Brendon thrived on, other than music and good whiskey, was attention. That said, though, Ryan didn’t have to leave him much- comparatively, at least, when you looked at how often Brendon had to go and perform or play the host at one of his lavish parties.

...Then again, so he always invited Ryan along to watch him sing, and Ryan never declined if he could manage it. And when Brendon was ‘hosting’ (like he did much of that even before the beginning of their relationship, his entire fuckin’ schtick had been being a practical no-show at his own event), the two of them tended to get comfortably warm-fuzzy from good liquor and disappeared upstairs, leaving Brendon’s plentiful guests unattended. They often awoke in the morning satisfied, so when Brendon came downstairs to survey the wasteland of his house, he wasn’t that bothered. He never really cared anyway, he had people he hired to clean that up, so he could spend valuable time in his lover’s arms.

So, though Ryan tried his very best to always be available, it turned out that tonight he really did have somewhere else to be. Brendon understood, really, but come on. Though Ryan was devout to his reliable reputation and never called in when he was required, even for Brendon, he still had to give it a shot on convincing him to stay. Even just for a little while longer. I can’t, darlin’, you know it. Brendon’s eye twitched. He was turning him down while calling him that pet name he could never resist. That was what Ryan used when he wanted something, and the fucking asshole had to pull it on him now, when Brendon was the one pestering him for his company. Honestly. Brendon sighed, still melted by the endearment like he was every damn time. A good boss doesn’t call in. Suppose not. Brendon knew he should just leave it, Ryan knew what he was doing, but- he was uptight, ran an unnecessarily tight ship, god knew he could afford to cut himself some slack, play it a little looser. ”And a good lover don’t leave me hanging,” Brendon argued, cocking an eyebrow and grinning as he simultaneously leaned in to attempt a convincing kiss.

Please, I always do. Brendon was losing hope at this point, but he was a real firecracker and devil take him if he was going to let Ryan go off playing outlaws over some printed bills while he sat around in his dumpy apartment nursing a bottle by himself like some lonely housewife. So he persisted, but only after leaning backwards, raising his eyebrows as Ryan trailed his hand down his chest. If he wanted it, he could have it, but no, he had to go and ‘break some kneecaps’ instead. Fool. I do need to be there. I’d invite you, love, but you’re little and these bastards really are trouble. Brendon scoffed, clenching his jaw, irritated. “I’m a grown man, Rowe. I don’t need protecting. Y’dont know what kind of shit I’d had to get myself out of back when I was just making a name for myself. Curse of bein’ out.” He knew what Ryan said was meant endearingly, and he knew it was because half the time he did act like some princess who needed waiting on 24/7. But he was pulling every trick in the book he knew to earn a little extra with him.

His pleading gaze fell down to where Ryan was playing with one of the rings Brendon had gifted him. Cute. Brendon had something of a thing for Ryan’s hands, for obvious reasons. He made that obvious by buying him god knows how much jewellery to adorn them with. Clicking his tongue, he then shifted over fluidly into Ryan’s lap, settling down so comfortable and naturally that it was clear it was his second nature to assume that position by now. Ryan was stronger than him, but he leaned back anyways. Good sign. Oh, please. Brendon shifted a little, hopeful. I reckon you’re right, it’ll be difficult. Another good sign. Feeling triumphant, Brendon’s mouth twitched into a winning smirk. But I’ll manage. He celebrated too soon. Brendon’s smirk faded and he opened his mouth to whine his complaints but Ryan just- picked him up, hand under his thigh. Like the opportunist he was he went in almost immediately to try and kiss him but Ryan had already dropped him back down onto the sofa. Fuck.

”Fucker,” He mumbled, folding his arms over his bare chest and slumping, sinking back into the sofa, full sulk mode. As cute as you are, dearest, I gotta jet. No you fucking don’t. Brendon stood up and followed him adamantly. Think I should take a crowbar? A bat? Not sure. Well, He was heading to the bedroom, so Brendon saw another window open as one closed. He didn’t notice the minimal disturbance outside. ”Listen, baby, listen,” Brendon began, his voice dropping an octave so he was now speaking in a soft, growling tone, like he was about to start singing. It was his stage voice- it indicated he was about to put on a show of some sort or another. ”So.” He leaned against the doorframe and his eyes followed Ryan for a second. ”You’re always early, right? Just to make sure. Way early,” He added. ”So- you don’t have to set off, yet, yeah? Just- twenty minutes. Fifteen, maybe. Specifics are down to you,” He grinned, arching an eyebrow. Just to sweeten the deal, he stretched his arms out above his head and clung on to the top of the doorframe, letting the rest of his body hang loose as the muscles of his arms and torso grew taut. ”Y’know, ‘cause you love me.”

pour out some liquor

So, sometimes Ryan did have business to attend to, and that business was often shady- not that Brendon had a problem with that. He’d been buying from bootleggers for a long time now. What he did have a problem with was being left alone, especially when he was feelinf extra affectionate; what Brendon thrived on, other than music and good whiskey, was attention. That said, though, Ryan didn’t have to leave him much- comparatively, at least, when you looked at how often Brendon had to go and perform or play the host at one of his lavish parties.

...Then again, so he always invited Ryan along to watch him sing, and Ryan never declined if he could manage it. And when Brendon was ‘hosting’ (like he did much of that even before the beginning of their relationship, his entire fuckin’ schtick had been being a practical no-show at his own event), the two of them tended to get comfortably warm-fuzzy from good liquor and disappeared upstairs, leaving Brendon’s plentiful guests unattended. They often awoke in the morning satisfied, so when Brendon came downstairs to survey the wasteland of his house, he wasn’t that bothered. He never really cared anyway, he had people he hired to clean that up, so he could spend valuable time in his lover’s arms.

So, though Ryan tried his very best to always be available, it turned out that tonight he really did have somewhere else to be. Brendon understood, really, but come on. Though Ryan was devout to his reliable reputation and never called in when he was required, even for Brendon, he still had to give it a shot on convincing him to stay. Even just for a little while longer. I can’t, darlin’, you know it. Brendon’s eye twitched. He was turning him down while calling him that pet name he could never resist. That was what Ryan used when he wanted something, and the fucking asshole had to pull it on him now, when Brendon was the one pestering him for his company. Honestly. Brendon sighed, still melted by the endearment like he was every damn time. A good boss doesn’t call in. Suppose not. Brendon knew he should just leave it, Ryan knew what he was doing, but- he was uptight, ran an unnecessarily tight ship, god knew he could afford to cut himself some slack, play it a little looser. ”And a good lover don’t leave me hanging,” Brendon argued, cocking an eyebrow and grinning as he simultaneously leaned in to attempt a convincing kiss.

Please, I always do. Brendon was losing hope at this point, but he was a real firecracker and devil take him if he was going to let Ryan go off playing outlaws over some printed bills while he sat around in his dumpy apartment nursing a bottle by himself like some lonely housewife. So he persisted, but only after leaning backwards, raising his eyebrows as Ryan trailed his hand down his chest. If he wanted it, he could have it, but no, he had to go and ‘break some kneecaps’ instead. Fool. I do need to be there. I’d invite you, love, but you’re little and these bastards really are trouble. Brendon scoffed, clenching his jaw, irritated. “I’m a grown man, Rowe. I don’t need protecting. Y’dont know what kind of shit I’d had to get myself out of back when I was just making a name for myself. Curse of bein’ out.” He knew what Ryan said was meant endearingly, and he knew it was because half the time he did act like some princess who needed waiting on 24/7. But he was pulling every trick in the book he knew to earn a little extra with him.

His pleading gaze fell down to where Ryan was playing with one of the rings Brendon had gifted him. Cute. Brendon had something of a thing for Ryan’s hands, for obvious reasons. He made that obvious by buying him god knows how much jewellery to adorn them with. Clicking his tongue, he then shifted over fluidly into Ryan’s lap, settling down so comfortable and naturally that it was clear it was his second nature to assume that position by now. Ryan was stronger than him, but he leaned back anyways. Good sign. Oh, please. Brendon shifted a little, hopeful. I reckon you’re right, it’ll be difficult. Another good sign. Feeling triumphant, Brendon’s mouth twitched into a winning smirk. But I’ll manage. He celebrated too soon. Brendon’s smirk faded and he opened his mouth to whine his complaints but Ryan just- picked him up, hand under his thigh. Like the opportunist he was he went in almost immediately to try and kiss him but Ryan had already dropped him back down onto the sofa. Fuck.

”Fucker,” He mumbled, folding his arms over his bare chest and slumping, sinking back into the sofa, full sulk mode. As cute as you are, dearest, I gotta jet. No you fucking don’t. Brendon stood up and followed him adamantly. Think I should take a crowbar? A bat? Not sure. Well, He was heading to the bedroom, so Brendon saw another window open as one closed. He didn’t notice the minimal disturbance outside. ”Listen, baby, listen,” Brendon began, his voice dropping an octave so he was now speaking in a soft, growling tone, like he was about to start singing. It was his stage voice- it indicated he was about to put on a show of some sort or another. ”So.” He leaned against the doorframe and his eyes followed Ryan for a second. ”You’re always early, right? Just to make sure. Way early,” He added. ”So- you don’t have to set off, yet, yeah? Just- twenty minutes. Fifteen, maybe. Specifics are down to you,” He grinned, arching an eyebrow. Just to sweeten the deal, he stretched his arms out above his head and clung on to the top of the doorframe, letting the rest of his body hang loose as the muscles of his arms and torso grew taut. ”Y’know, ‘cause you love me.”

pour out some liquor

”Here’s what I think.”

Brendon’s lips, which had been pressed against Ryan’s neck, were ghosting closer to his ear, and he spoke into it softly before catching the lobe playfully in his teeth. He was kneeling on the couch (which was low, made of shitty fake leather and was decorated tastefully with a large red wine stain on the left arm) and he was facing Ryan, who had been previously slumped at a relaxed angle, but had now moved to sit up, clearly interested in what Brendon had to say. An amused grin flashed up for a second on Brendon’s face but quickly vanished, and instead he strayed across Ryan’s face to press kisses along the line of his cheekbone before dropping down to pay attention to his jaw.

”I think-“ He said, kissing his neck again, ”-That you should stay here tonight.” Another attentive kiss to his cheek. Brendon swore that he had intended to get all of this out in one go, but Ryan was looking so pretty, well, he always did, but his hair today- Brendon lifted a hand up from his own lap and curled his fingers into it, swept it sideways, shifted up to bury his face in it and inhale because he smelled so good, it was ridiculous. Honestly, he needed to spit it out before Ryan got bored and did actually realise that he was already late for- ‘work commitments’. Well, they were technically work commitments, but, it also wasn’t exactly legal work. Hence the quotation marks.

”Spence has it covered, y’know?” He continued, sliding his hand down from Ryan’s hair to cradle his jaw and turn his head so they were looking directly at eachother. Just staring into his eyes, Brendon felt a soft, lilting smile tugging at his lips and when he leaned in to kiss Ryan properly, hand still on his jaw, he couldn’t help but smile for real. It interrupted the kiss, but. He really couldn’t help it. He hoped to god that Ryan was feeling up for- putting work aside for the night. ”Y’don’t even need to be there, babe. They won’t forget you in a hurry, I know these guys caused you trouble n’everything, but like you said, once you said it to them straight- They know you mean business.” Brendon dropped his hands back down to his lap and straightened up, sitting back on his knees. You don’t need to be there. I can think of other things to do. Less productive, but maybe... Maybe more pleasurable.”

If that didn’t work, god knows what would. Ryan was very committed to doing things professionally and personally making sure sales and whatnot went smoothly- Brendon truly admired his work ethic, even if ethics weren’t exactly the root of his trade- but he hoped that, if he was convincing enough, Ryan’s mind would be at enough rest that he could skip work this time and leave them both some freedom to play. It was an elaborate plan that had started since Brendon had come over a few hours earlier; though Ryan’s rule of ‘Don’t get high off your own supply’ was one he stuck by strongly, most of the time, he’d been in good enough spirits that Brendon was able to persuade him using his weakness (which was, luckily, Brendon himself) to let him open a bottle of whiskey for the two of them to share. That was an indication that he was feeling generous, plus, they’d gotten through most of the bottle in a short period of time, so.

After studying his expression carefully for a few seconds, Brendon let his eyes drop down to Ryan’s hands, adorned naturally with an assortment of rings. A few of which Brendon had bought for him. He then let his gaze travel back up and, deciding suddenly that he was impatient, he moved decisively over and fluidly into Ryan’s lap, pushing Ryan (who had been facing him) back against the arm of the couch, so he was almost horizontal. Now straddling him, Brendon felt a little more convincing. ”Besides, you look so comfortable. How will you ever even manage to get up? I say stay with me.”

your way

It’ll be romantic, Brendon. If Ryan had said this to him a few months ago, even in jest, it would have made Brendon deeply uncomfortable and uneasy- because although they were on significantly better terms, the intimate aspect of their relationship was still almost wholly physical in nature, everything else, emotional and otherwise, tended to be surface level; friendly, tolerable, nothing more. Now, though, in a perplexingly fast change that began to unfold at the start of this dumb arranged tour, they were much closer, not only as ‘lovers’ (though such a word was only used very loosely) but as friends. Not only did they feel a melodramatically intense passion for eachother, but- they liked eachother. To others, unfamiliar with how ridiculous and childish their situation was and how deep the roots of their original mutual hatred had been planted, it wasn’t a big deal- but to Brendon and Ryan, who had been constantly at eachothers throats for pointlessly wasted years of their lives, it was huge. They played video games together, watched TV, worked on their own lyrics in comfortable silence and occasionally risked asking for an opinion, or often just sat and talked as friends did. Ryan reading to him- these days it wasn’t all that far-fetched.

Even considering their current feud, which was a product of Brendon being a thirsty bastard and still being more than incapable of having an extremely vulnerable discussion with Ryan. Hey, they’d gotten better, but honest communication was still one of their weak points. That was clear then when after his heartfelt, mortifying apology hadn’t worked in winning Ryan over, Brendon instead turned to just pushing him up against the side of an elevator and kissing him in an attempt to just seduce him into being a little more cooperative. Usually, that worked, but Ryan was clearly trying to stay strong and stay mad at him. Brendon had melted into the kiss and into Ryan’s hands and he was way too involved in it when the elevator opened and Ryan all but shoved him aside. Huffing out a brief sigh in disappointment, Brendon was about to complain after he realised Ryan’s anxious measures to prevent discovery were for naught, but then he realised- he had the advantage. Ryan had been practically pliant. So he settled down, preened his metaphorical feathers and followed Ryan with a little triumphant smile.

Shut up. Brendon grinned. ”Didn’t say a word, Ry,” He said softly, shrugging a shoulder and waiting for an obviously flushed Ryan to enter the room so he could follow and they could finally have some privacy. The door slammed shut once he had kicked it, and in contrast to this supposed display of short temper, Brendon’s features were gentle and fond and the only emotion he could muster was affection, and- well. Amongst other things, but Ryan probably wouldn’t appreciate being told again just how much Brendon waited him to, like, fuck him until he couldn’t walk. Brendon was impulsive and didn’t think a lot before he spoke but he wasn’t that stupid. Maybe. Watching carefully, Brendon shuffled forward as Ryan collapsed into his chair before closing the distance between them in a few confident strides and dropping fluidly onto his knees before him. If this didn’t work- nothing would, Brendon might as well hang up his hat right there and then.

Ryan tensed, he felt it under his fingertips when he trailed his hands up his thigh, and Brendon was smiling, fascinated by his responsiveness and amused by how desperately he tried to hide it. Once he was satisfied with how speechless Ryan was, he moved gracefully up into Ryan’s lap, sitting there like he had so many times, falling right into place, like he kind of just belonged there. There were so many evil things he could do, but- he decided to be merciful and just grovelled some more, staring into Ryan’s honey-brown eyes and batting his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon character. If anything, Brendon was good at getting what he wanted. Anyway, he was almost certain he was going to get what he wanted, when- I can’t follow your rules. Brendon blinked, staring back, suddenly taken off guard. I can’t do this for just one tour. Okay, So- he wasn’t that surprised. Brendon wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew how much Ryan liked him, he just- wasn’t willing to admit how much he liked Ryan. Things were never simple with them. I- I was afraid that I was losing valuable time, when you weren’t talking to me, and. I like you. So. Ignoring Ryan’s hands settling around his waist, almost as if he was trying to ground himself, Brendon instead focused on how fast Ryan was talking. He was nervous. He was fucking beautiful. A pause. A long overdue confession. ”I like you, too.”

The words sounded alien and yet so damn right, and he was going to continue, but evidently Ryan had found fault with his own admittance and was trying to move along, dust it quickly back under the rug from whence it came. I mean. No, whatever, I forgive you, we can- the bedroom’s right there. Sorry. Brendon followed his gaze to the bedroom door and though something still stirred inside of him, he was largely still thinking about how vulnerable Ryan must feel. He seemed desperate, desperate to move on and keep Brendon close. Brendon wanted to assure him he wasn’t going nowhere, so he pushed Ryan back against the back of the armchair, caught him in a fond, lecherous kiss, open-mouthed, trying to sate him into calming down. Brendon’s fingers curled into his hair and he pulled back, lips parted. ”You don’t need to apologise,” He murmured. ”Me not talking to you because I thought that was the best way to communicate with you what I wanted- Stupid. I know that now.” A knowing smile. Okay? Past is the past, bygones, you know; forget what I said.

”Yeah, That isn’t gonna be possible,” Came Brendon’s reply as he arched his eyebrows. ”But, I tell you what, babe. You take me through there- you do to me as you please, and then- we can talk about it. Properly. I promise.”

it's a lovely chemistry

So maybe Brendon hadn’t been dreaming of this since he was fourteen, but still, he had been looking forward to interviewing the recently drafted Ryan Rowe, a right winger (now for the Blackhawks)- he’d naturally been paying attention to what was going on and he knew that Ryan was everyone’s darling right now, top of his game, bound to only get better and more well known after this ‘big break’ of his career, so to speak. Even though he’d already been following him relatively closely, since he’d been informed that he was going to be taking the wheel of an interview with Ryan, he’d done a substantial amount more of research into his background, his play style, his personal records, statistics, everything. Brendon, though seemingly easily distracted and quick to lose focus when something was arduous and boring, was nothing if not dedicated to his job and he wanted to know everything that was public knowledge about Ryan before he got to sit in front of him and find out things that maybe nobody knew yet. He’d even followed Ryan on twitter and Instagram. Even throughout all this research, though, he hadn’t noticed until Ryan had walked in just how goddamn handsome he was, honey eyes and almost windswept-looking chestnut hair. Tall, and built well, too- naturally.

Unfortunately, Brendon wasn’t the only one in the room; a whole crew was with them and it was lucky that Brendon was such a welcoming and charismatic interviewer because Ryan was like a fucking clam, much more reclusive and shy than he had expected- Brendon had watched videos of brief interviews directly after games, Ryan standing there, chest heaving, still in full gear and sweating like hell, and even then when he was clearly fucking beat he had an air of confidence- maybe bordering on arrogance, but he never seemed obnoxious. Besides, it seemed to Brendon that he was good enough at what he did (first in the national draft, for God’s sake) to be allowed to be arrogant about it. Sitting in front of him and the crew, though, Brendon was surprised by how different he seemed from any other time he’d been at a game watching him play or studying any other content online. In the place of a cocky, almost devilish player that he’d expected was a low-voiced, almost nervous man of few words. Even so, Brendon thought he was charming and attractive and when he linked this more intimate picture of Ryan back to how he was out during a game, it was both baffling and extremely intruiging. And not. But it would be, y’know, unprofessional to mention that in an interview- and though it wasn’t easy to believe, Brendon was better at holding his tongue than ever nowadays.

If he had a dollar for every time he’d found an interviewee cute or vice versa, he’d be rich, but if he had a dollar for every time said interviewee asked him out to dinner, he wouldn’t even be able to afford that dinner. It had been a successful interview and they’d wrapped up, shook hands, the crew started filing out to review and cut down the footage, or something. Brendon was busying about with his notes and whatnot and collecting his coat and Ryan hung around, so Brendon paused, and looked up (yes, up, he was 5’6, this guy had five or six inches on him) expectantly. Ryan had then made that interview particularly memorable by anxiously and admittedly adorably asking him on a date. And yes, it was a date, Brendon had to clarify that, because he had seemed way too flustered to even be interested and Brendon was too absorbed in the interview to notice any flirting if he had even tried. Gut instinct told him to say no, but. Why not? When he looked at him without reservations, now, he really was stunning. Rather tragically, Brendon felt goddamn butterflies at the gentleness of the proposal. So he said yes, they exchanged numbers, and organised a date and time.

Brendon was organised, usually. But he spent a long time standing staring at himself in the mirror trying to figure out what the hell to wear. What if he’d misread the whole thing, and this was just a friendly meal? He jumped between two outfits, red pants and a simple black t-shirt or a printed button-up and black jeans. He settled on the former and sorted out his hair and by the time he had finished trying to tame one wild strand, he glanced at his phone and he was already kind of supposed to be at the restaurant. Great. Luckily, Brendon was used to getting to places fast so he only ended up being under ten minutes later, texting Ryan a light-hearted apology. In response, Ryan said ‘see you soon’ and gave him a rough idea of his location within the restaurant. For the first time when he walked through the doors, he was nervous- he was excited, sure, but hadn’t been anticipating nerves playing up. But again, he was just that pretty. As the door swung shut behind him, he spotted Ryan and smiled immediately as he stood and made his way over. There was a beat before they greeted eachother where they mutually debated handshake v hug- hug it was, this wasn’t a business meeting. He didn’t think. Either way- he smelled fucking good, Brendon lingered a little before pulling back, still smiling.

Hey! Hi. I, uh, I didn’t have anything nice to wear. So. Brendon hadn’t paid any attention to what he had been wearing, honestly, too lost in his illegally pretty eyes. When he looked down, though, gave him a once-over- ”What are you talking about? You look great. Real classy. You’d almost not expect you to be a hockey player, but- the scar.” On his bottom lip. Not too classy. All in good fun. Brendon followed as Ryan guided them back to the table, where he spotted a glass of red wine that was pretty much almost empty. Brendon was only disappointed that Ryan hadn’t ordered him one. Anyway, it’s good to see you again- please. What a gentleman, Brendon thought, smiling at him as he pulled his chair out for him, taking a seat when Ryan gestured to do so. ”Thank you. You too.” How are you? Did I end up sounding good in the interview? I may have been a little nervous. Adopting a reassuring smile quickly, Brendon leaned forward in his chair and shrugged a litttle. ”Just a little, but you sounded great. Everyone loves you, now, y’know? You could do no wrong.” It was true, even rival teams begrudgingly admitted he was an excellent player. ”And, I’m great. How are you doing, Ryan?”