Neve

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

F

your way

If Brendon had thought about it a little more, he would’ve have realised that he didn’t just like Ryan- he loved him. It just- wasn’t anything he’d experienced before, so he couldn’t connect a word that sounded so foreign and unrealistic to a man who had been something in his life that stuck to his shoe in the best way, always clinging on to his heart even if he was out of his mind. Which he rarely was. Even back when they absolutely despised eachother- Brendon and Ryan spent a lot of their free time concentrating on the person they supposedly hated the most. It also wasn’t obvious because of the way it had crept up to him, imperceptibly, too imperceptibly, perhaps, to seem like perfidy, but earlier in their lives if he’d figured out his feelings he would have indeed felt betrayed by his own heart. He’d spent a long time finding someone who could fill Ryan’s shoes when they mutually (but not really) decided that the two of them just couldn’t work. Physically, many could- that was just the honest truth- but. Their connection, the connection that made their physical relationship so intense. He couldn’t find that anywhere.

Of course, though, he was in deep-set denial that he needed Ryan beyond in a raw, materialistic way, to fill the void like some kind of novelty to be greedily consumed. To try and prove that to himself, he resisted Ryan for so long that he convinced himself that what was driving him crazy was the lack of sex, which was ridiculous, but he tried to make that the reason he felt so empty up til the end, when he was moving into Ryan’s lap, into his arms, when Ryan’s hands fit so naturally around his waist. They fit like puzzle pieces. He couldn’t deny that any longer. So when Ryan openly confessed his feelings, Brendon just stared at him for a beat, didn’t even think. It turned out he didn’t need to. He just told Ryan the truth and, when seeing he was lost for words, leaned in to catch him in a passionate, amorous kiss, feeling every nerve in his body tighten and close before his muscles relaxed and he melted into where he belonged- right there, in Ryan’s lap, kissing him senseless. As he did, ridiculous images flashed through his head, waking up with the sun streaming through the curtains and his head buried in Ryan’s chest. Sitting against his chest between his legs watching some movie, Ryan quietly playing with his hair. Both of them lying on polar ends of the couch, legs intertwined as they did completely separate tasks. Sitting opposite eachother in a coffee shop, laughing about nothing, Brendon thinking about how Ryan’s eyes were kind of like a caramel macchiato or something ridiculous like that. It was embarrassing. It was beautiful.

He pulled back and stifled a smile when Ryan’s thumb moved to brush along his lower lip. His eyebrow twitched as he, usually smartassed and obnoxious, struggled to think of something to say. Ryan, of course, was still panicking, because that’s what he did. Though Brendon supposed he’d given him plenty reason to be wary. He thought about getting into a serious, in-depth conversation about this, which was entirely out of character, but then he realised that he hadn’t been dicked down in goddamn weeks and Ryan was right there, beneath him, they were both starving. As much as Ryan tried to hide it. So he offered a proposal, and Ryan didn’t say anything for a second- but in a moment he easily manoeuvred the two of them so they could be even closer, then caught Brendon off guard for once in a slower, punctuating, equally breathtaking kiss. He swore this shit only happened in cringey fucking romance novels. He swore this only happened in awful movies.

But then they were out of breath and Ryan was at his neck and shoulder instead. Brendon didn’t even get his breath back, forgetting he’d been holding it. You’re serious. Of course, dumbass. Of course. I’ve never meant something more in my life, I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry I spent so long falling into the tempting arms of the wrong people. You were right here this whole time, the only one for me.

It was baffling that Brendon didn’t realise he was in love.

I like you so much. I do. You’re serious? Brendon couldn’t help but grin, finally exhaled and then inhaled, catching his lost breath and using the time to figure out what to say. ”Oh, yeah. I’m serious.” A pause. ”Can I just say I’m very impressed you haven’t started undressing me yet. I’m actually kind of offended.” ...Classic Brendon, there was only so much sincerity at a time that he could handle.

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

Brendon had known from the start that Ryan would never be one that was able to give incredibly romantic, articulate speeches- he had an incredible grasp of language and a way with written word that Brendon melted for, could never hope to have himself, but verbally? He was, more often than not, hopeless. And Brendon adored the juxtaposition. He didn’t care that Ryan couldn’t make sweeping declarations (the closest he’d come was whenever they were entirely alone at twilight, wrapped up in eachother’s arms). Brendon knew just how much Ryan loved him and he didn’t need to be told in some extravagant way- his wonderful writing made him flustered as it was, he wouldn’t be able to handle Ryan being so plainly profound with him all the time. Rare occasions where they lay under the stars or stayed up all night talking til the sunrise- that was overwhelming enough. Similarly, but not quite, Ryan was useless at- more talking explicitly, too. Brendon coaxed him into it sometimes but Ryan, who usually couldn’t stop talking while they were trying to kind of just, for lack of a better term, get on with it, was surprisingly stuck whenever Brendon tried to provoke any kind of dirty talk. These days, he did it because it was funny.

Earlier in their relationship Brendon had foolishly thought that maybe it was because Ryan didn’t find him all that... sexually appealing. This was quickly disproved. Ryan made the opposite obvious in a very different way, and Brendon could almost translate his expressions and body language into words of their own. This was just how well they’d grown to know eachother. All of this considered, Brendon was not surprised by what he heard- but was shocked that Ryan was saying it in front of three other people, one a stranger, one a friend who definitely didn’t need to hear the details of their physical relationship. Even wasted, it was bewildering how loose Ryan’s tongue had become- and at first it was amusing, he enjoyed it, but as it became gradually more inappropriate he was less endeared and amused, more mortified by just how much of an open book Ryan had become. It was a side he’d always wanted to see but now was uncomfortable with, one because Zack wouldn’t leave him alone about this shit, two because if this carried on he’d find it hard to conceal the world’s most awkward erection.

True. Sweetest eye candy around. Brendon sighed dreamily at that, admittedly. Good to know Ryan was just as smitten as he was (though, again, he didn’t need any telling). Then, though, he decided to riskily test just how far Ryan was willing to go with all this; Brendon was reckless at best and it was just lucky that Ryan wasn’t quite at the state of freely displaying lewd pictures of his boyfriend for the world to see. Hey. For me. And me only. Get your own. Okay... that was hot. Brendon cursed himself and Ryan and alcohol and god all at once. He cleared his throat nervously and ran a hand through his hair, staring desperately at the roof of the car. Ryan was lying completely on the seat at this point, pulling against the seatbelt. Closest he’s come to being vers is when he’s in a ‘power bottom’ mood. Oh, shit. Brendon went scarlet. ”I don’t think we need to know,” His voice was high, strained. Listen, listen- No. Brendon did t want to. He was frozen by horror, unable to speak, anticipating whatever would come next. Pull his hair just right, lift him for s better angle, he’ll fall apart. He’s submissive. Zack was laughing. Brendon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, catching the eye of the horrified driver in the rear view mirror and mouthing a desperate apology.

It’s a good thing. ”Okay, Ryan, I think we-“ You wouldn’t expect it, ‘cause he’s so confident... God, he has every right to be. Aw, sweet. But no, fuck, he couldn’t be distracted. He’s stunning. There’s this little... his V-line, you can trace along there, the velvety skin, and, like, he wears his jeans so low on his hips, so low, it’s like art, it’s so fuckin’ hot. Why couldn’t he be like this when they were alone? If the situation was right, Brendon would, as nasty as it was, be on his knees by now. Oh well, Ryan’s loss. He was still bright crimson, covering his face with his hands. This was ridiculous- Brendon was never embarrassed, ever. He was so distracted by his own mortification that he tuned out of what Ryan was saying for a bit, it all kind of blurred together, but then- Hey, I haven’t even told you about his face.

Brendon sat up and turned desperately, tried to coax Ryan back into a sitting position. ”Ryan, Jesus, it’s me. It’s Brendon. Look at me, stop being thirsty, I’m here.”

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

Even if that was true, I mind. It was reassuring to know that Ryan was unshakeably loyal even when absolutely wasted, but honestly, Brendon didn’t need the reassurance. He had enough confidence in Ryan and their insanely good relationship that such things would never be a problem for them- they were perfectly compatible on all levels and there was nothing another romantic parter could provide that they couldn’t already provide to eachother. Even in this bizarre situation, with Ryan running his pretty mouth (which Brendon was trying hard not to kiss), all Brendon could think about was how hopelessly in love he was with him. And it was exactly the same the other way around. How could he ask for more? Ryan was everything he ever wanted. The fact he thought that even now, when Ryan was so out of it he didn’t even recognise him, was just proof that they were, well. Soulmates. Although they didn’t go throwing that word around often. ”You’re sweet, he’s lucky to have you.”

You’re lame. That was reminiscing of their sober, petty squabbles. It was very rare that they had full-blown, serious arguments, thank god. And whenever they did, they both felt so terrible and lost being in bed step with their lover, that it was resolved lightning fast. No trouble in paradise for them. He steadied Ryan to prevent him from fully slumping over and evenly met his misplaced glare, though it sucked when Ryan moved away. It’s me, baby, he thought desperately, blinking at him. Look at me, I’m right here. Ryan clearly didn’t catch on to his silent pleading and was showing him a picture of himself. He didn’t know what Ryan expected- jealousy from the supposed stranger? Awe at the beauty of this man? It was just him, not even a very good picture, Ryan just thought it was ‘cute’. He thought about all the much more attractive pictures of himself that were for Ryan’s eyes only, wondering whether he could prompt him into showing him those. Honestly, he hoped not- imagine if he found out Ryan was so open about them while he was drunk. Brendon was relatively secure about his body but that didn’t mean he wanted random people seeing very private photos.

Pursuing Ryan’s colourful imagination and hoping to get more of an insight into how he made his boyfriend feel, Brendon urged him on, and it seemed he was more than happy to oblige. I have to walk a couple inches behind him. Even if we’re holding hands. He was aware. Ryan really thought he was slick. Brendon smirked, couldn’t help it, but felt a very strong impulse to take his hand and hold it once Ryan had mentioned such a display of affection. It’s, like... the law. I need the view. Secretly, Brendon didn’t understand the general obsession that people (fans) had with his ass. Ryan’s, yeah, he got that, because- well, you get the picture, but. Still, he was flattered, if it wasn’t obvious by the slight red flush dusting his cheekbones. ”He sounds like your eye candy,” He mused, glancing at Ryan’s phone again, still wondering about those certain pictures he had saved. Or were they saved? God knew, how thirsty Ryan actually was was often a mystery even to Brendon. ”Surely you have photographic evidence.”

Like, he wears them on stage... and how am I supposed to fuck him when he’s doing a, like, forever-long show? It made Brendon start to sweat knowing that such a thing was in Ryan’s mind whenever he was up there performing, and for a second he was stuck in an enamoured, hungry daze, before he remembered that Zack was literally right in front of him. Oh, lord. ”Uh-huh,” He muttered, trying to hurry Ryan on to a different, less explicitly horny subject. And he takes his shirt off onstage... In fairness, that wasn’t even intended to give people something to salivate over. He just got ridiculously hot and sweaty on stage to the point where he often sweated profusely over people’s pride flags during girls/girls/boys. Still, Ryan was his boyfriend. Of course he was going to like it. I want to touch- Brendon smiled, because everyone was allowed to look, only Ryan has that privilege. -every inch of him, he looks so fucking good up there, he looks good all the time. Okay, too sweet. Dirty talk he could handle, sweetness he couldn’t.

I think God made me... and then he was like, you know what... he needs a bottom. So he made Brendon. He’s my other half, man, I love him so much. Alright, too far, too far, Zack and the driver didn’t have to know that Brendon was dismally submissive, that wasn’t something he was willing to share. But Ryan was speaking too fast for him to interrupt. ”I’m sure he loves you too, I- are you sure he’s a bottom, he sounds more vers to me...”

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.”