Brendon wasn’t exactly someone that you would, or could, describe as lazy. He was, in general, an energetic and enthusiastic person for the most part, with an overzealous attitude and effortless snark that made him both entertaining, and exhausting, to be around. His every incline of the head, raise of the eyebrow, twitch of smile and curve of the mouth was expressive to an extent that was almost cartoon-esque, and with a voice as rich and vibrant as his in speaking as well as singing, in Brendon’s presence, nobody could ever really get bored, especially once he was talking about something he was interested in or passionate about. This could be anything ranging from popular music in 1950’s France, to TV shows like Stranger Things, his three strikingly different but collectively charming dogs and everything in between. When he talked about something he loved, he would constantly smile, his eyebrows would raise, the corners of his eyes would crinkle in a genuine extention of enthusiasm, and his hands would become animated, just like his whole body, always moving and remaining engaged. This happened during most conversation topics, but his favourite thing- or more specifically, person- to talk about was his husband, the love of his life, the most gorgeous man he’d ever met and the person he believed made him the luckiest person alive. Ryan. Whenever he tried to tell Ryan this, he’d dismiss it In a kind of shyness, and Brendon would just kiss him, kiss him hard and hope Ryan understood this more than what he was trying to convey verbally.

It was funny, ryan was usually so good with words. He was an incredible songwriter, a real wordsmith in Brendon’s extravagant ways of describing him or showering him in praise- but when Ryan tried to express something vocally to him, he seemed to find it difficult to find the right words. Brendon could relate to this, though- for all his charm and fluidity, whenever he attempted to grasp at words to tell Ryan how much he loved him, he only discovered there was nothing in the English language that would effectively allow his husband to comprehend just how much he meant to Brendon. It was frustrating, so he often resolved to other tactics- expressing things physically, through touch, through heated kisses that made his whole body flush with heat, to light contact that made him shiver, to gentle fingers running through hair with purpose too intense to even attempt to describe. When Brendon was in these kinds of moods, he was ridiculously clingy, but Ryan never seemed to mind. Usually it was the other way round, so Ryan kind of just made the most of it.

That day, they were just kind of sprawling about the house before making an attempt at recording some music or writing some lyrics with questionable success. It had started with Brendon kind of just staring at Ryan while he wrote, followed by the two of them tuning guitars for about fifteen minutes, followed by Brendon somehow ending up in Ryan’s lap and the next hour being completely unproductive creatively but very much more enjoyable than trying to come up with words rhyming with circus. They were now in the living room, Brendon finally willing himself to sit up, feeling Ryan shift a little beside him in complaint. He was wearing ryan’s button-up shirt, but it was open, and for a moment he considered just ditching it but then he decided he wanted to smell like him. Brendon glanced around the room again- he had been awake for a while, but had just kind of settled down against ryans side. The tv was on, and he reached over for the remote, flicking channels boredly before he finally turned around to see if Ryan had decided to come back to reality yet.

“Baby,” he began, moving a hand to intertwine his fingers with Ryan’s and bringing his hand up to kiss gently. “You alive?” A pause. Nothing. Brendon seemed almost breathlessly sounding enamoured when he moved a hand to comb through his hair affectionately and waited patiently for any kind of response. “Are you broken?” Realising that his husband really was dead to the world, Brendon rose and let go of Ryan’s hand, running his now free hand through his own messy hair and rubbing at his neck automatically. He was a little stiff from not moving for a while, and cracked his neck and back in succession before relaxing his shoulders and dropping his arms by his sides. Throughout everything, he was still kind of smiling to himself, almost a smirk but not suggestive, just relaxed and happy and pleased. He was in love. He just wished Ryan was awake so he could hear him say it again.

After a moment, he started searching around for his phone and found it on the coffee table, checking it and sitting back down the couch where there was space. It was just after lunch, it was sunny outside and Brendon contemplated finding the dogs and taking them out while Ryan clearly fake-slept beside him, trying to avoid that responsibility and any contact with the outside world. “Ryan,” He said, softly, grinning as he shook his husband lightly. “Baby. I know you’re awake. But I think I just had the greatest song idea. Plus the dogs need to be walked. Plus I think we should go out for lunch. Can’t do that while you’re ‘asleep’.”

Ryan was a little more blank than the person he'd chosen to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't his fault, necessarily, and it wasn't Brendon's fault that his excitable demeanor made Ryan look like a depressed little shit in comparison, but that was a lot easier to place the blame on rather than circle back to whatever early-life influences made him so keen to remain invulnerable. Either way, he appreciated Brendon's "passion," the fire in his heart that never really went out (although he'd unfortunately seen the dark times in Brendon, too, and it affected the world around him, as if all nature stopped blooming and all colors turned greyscale). He was talkative enough for the both of them, charming enough to make Ryan seem interesting by extension, a main attraction that fortunately drew the attention away from Ryan, who was easily overwhelmed by it. Not that Ryan usually said any of this to him, of course. Instead he teased Brendon about the 'Aries flame,' or played annoyed when he wasn't entirely bothered. Part of it was just because he stuttered and stumbled over his words or couldn't wear the proper inflection, so if he was set on complimenting Brendon, it'd sound monotone and ultra-quiet. That didn't come off very genuine, even if he meant it with his whole heart.

The other part of it was just the fact that he was very obvious about how he felt, at least around Brendon. Catch him anywhere else and he was a pro at keeping his face unreadable, controlling any emotion so it didn't translate into his expression; with his husband he lost his guard and it was a little ridiculous. He'd be watching Brendon perform and forget he was meant to be an entertainer himself, or if he was in the audience he'd forget he was in a crowded room. He'd be listening to him talk, anything casual, and forget that he was supposed to respond to him rather than simply enjoy his voice or his ideas or the way his expression changed with every topic. Or his mouth. That was a problem too. He'd probably do whatever Brendon told him to, fuckin' rob a bank, if he was simply smiling at the same time. So, Ryan wasn't easily charmed, necessarily; he'd just ended up with the embodiment of charisma.

Their puzzle-piece fit together was often their downfall, despite all the good things that came with it. In particular: getting work done. It used to be that they'd go to separate rooms, meet up with a third party present to ensure they actually came up with a finished product; since they started living together full-time and were married, things took ten times longer to get through the completion process. It started with Ryan being unable to write coherently and Brendon being unable to tab anything useful out, then they both pretended like they weren't getting all green on their tuners just to restart (Ryan personally must have undone five strings in his effort to avoid productivity), then Ryan's hands were sifting through Brendon's hair in his lap. He had no idea of how they got there, no memory of abandoning their guitars to escape to the living room, but decided this was more comfortable anyway.

His thin V-neck was not providing much warmth at all and he wondered where his second layer went before peeking through one eye and remembering Brendon had taken it for himself. He looked better in it anyway. Not wanting to disturb the peace, he quickly shut his eyes again, pretending he hadn't seen Brendon sitting up for the first time in a while. Hearing the shifts in audio from the television, changes in language or inflection or music, he realised Brendon was probably bored as hell without ten types of stimulation at once and consequently searching for the entertainment from TV. He definitely didn't have the attention span for it. Baby, came the second sign of his utter boredom, and Ryan really could have cried when he felt Brendon's fingers lace through his, the gentle kiss on the back of his hand. Tears of joy - it just wasn't incredibly often Brendon presented this kind of calm. He suppressed a smile, letting the moment live a little longer. You alive?

Ryan's breath hitched by a fraction when Brendon's fingers drifted through his hair, once again charmed. Are you broken? He felt Brendon rise first, then the weight of his hand disappear, and risked cracking his eyes open to watch him stretch out the stiffness like a cat. He was wearing this tiny smile, the kind that literally put Ryan in the palm of Brendon's hand, and again Ryan lost all his will to speak and break the serenity. Instead he just watched through barely-open eyes, his overgrown fringe helping to hide that he was awake and had been ever since his body deemed the room too cold. Ryan, baby. Ryan held on, touch feather-light, to one hanging side of Brendon's shirt, but kept his eyes 'closed.' I know you’re awake. But I think I just had the greatest song idea. Plus the dogs need to be walked. Plus I think we should go out for lunch. Can’t do that while you’re ‘asleep’. Lots of 'plus'es. And his scheme was foiled. Ryan gave in and just opened his eyes minutely, searching Brendon's features, familiarizing himself with the light again.

"You're sweet," he said quietly, promptly ignoring everything Brendon had tried bribing him awake with to instead mirror his actions from earlier, drawing his hand up to kiss and then lacing their fingers together where he could see them in the light. Then he let their hands drop to his chest, pulling Brendon down by a buttonhole on his shirt simultaneously. He kissed him, but barely - like he was afraid of breaking the pattern of softness. Ryan looked at him a little while longer then decided he was really bad with words. Why he was even a writer, he'd never know. "What's this song idea? And I vote we sit outside, wherever we go."

Though Ryan wasn’t exactly as engaged or enthusiastic about anything and everything all the time as Brendon was, he was by no means ‘plain’ or ‘boring’, and had none (well, almost none) of the negative attributes he assigned to himself with such massive finality that whenever Brendon tried to convince him otherwise, it was like trying to have a meaningful conversation with a brick wall. Okay, so maybe the characteristic of ‘stubborn’ was more or less correct. Sometimes, Brendon felt kind of bad for ‘washing Ryan out’ with his more intense and fiery personality that often earned him most of the spotlight. At interviews, most questions were directed at him- on stage, at shows, most people were screaming i love you Brendon, though an increasing amount of fans were vying for ryan’s attention now, as he had noticed. Maybe there was something about his lack of interaction with the audience that was appealing. Brendon found it quite funny. Anyhow, he did feel bad sometimes, but Ryan always reminded him that he preferred it that way. That it was Brendon who was born to be a frontman, not him. This settled his ego enough for it to not bug Brendon's conscience too much.

Though Ryan was usually rather stoic and silent around most other people, around Brendon, he was different, in that his guard was more dropped in comparison to the shield he held up around audience and interviewers and other people he had to interact with out of obligation. Brendon never put a guard up, but he, too, felt more at peace and natural when he was in Ryan’s arms than any other place on earth. They just kind of fit. It was ridiculous, and cliche, and unlikely, and most things throughout their lives had seemed to be dragging them apart, but they always found their way back together. Brendon didn’t really believe in destiny or fate or anything, just choices- and being with Ryan, though it didn’t seem it at the time, was the easiest choice he ever made. He’d only been in love once, and he didn’t intend that to change. It wouldn’t change. Brendon’s heart belonged to him, it had ever since he’d first shakily confessed, all the way until today, and it would all the way until they died. Brendon didn’t doubt it. If they could overcome everything they already had, nothing else could separate them.

It wasn’t always cringeworthy heart-to-hearts or unnecessary declarations of love for the millionth time, though. Brendon would get bored of that. He was a passionate person, and a physical person, and luckily Ryan was kind of perpetually thirsty. They weren’t newlyweds anymore, and nothing had changed, as evident by the lack of ability to get work done in favour of other things, usually suggested by Brendon, and readily accepted by Ryan. Sometimes they worked perfectly together while making music, but Brendon was kind of uninspired and Ryan could never really write when other people were around, even if it was Brendon. So it kind of lead from that into other things, and neither of them were complaining when they finally had the energy to be awake, Brendon in Ryan’s shirt and Ryan kind of refusing to speak or move as it probably was too much effort.

Bored, but considerate enough to let Ryan lie there without disturbing him, Brendon had started to flick through channels and had then simply given up, standing to stretch himself out and then sitting back down to turn and give in to his compulsion to convince his not-sleeping husband to get up and actually be productive with him for once. They had lots of things they needed to do, and though they only wanted to do one thing, Brendon knew Ryan would try to be responsible anyway. Maybe it would impress him if he started talking about chores and errands for once. The key word was maybe. As he ran through a list of things they should do, Ryan’s eyes opened, and he felt his insides heat up because fuck, his eyes were gorgeous. I’d do anything for you, He thought absently, cracking a smile. He was kind of still entranced when Ryan spoke. You’re sweet. automatically, the corner of his mouth twitched and curved up again, as he let himself be pulled in to meet Ryan in a kiss.

He was ready to allow himself be fully distracted again, but Ryan kept it brief. Hiding his disappointment, he sat back a little, tilting his head to consider him. What’s this song idea? Brendon conveniently couldn’t remember. He shrugged carelessly, leaning in with an obvious attempt to kiss him again. And I vote we sit outside, wherever we go. brendon kind of bared his teeth doubtfully, kicking himself for suggesting that they do anything besides lie there. For a moment, he just stayed silent, quirking an eyebrow just to consider his options. Then, he decisively leaned in to kiss Ryan again, with purpose, and while he did, he moved over completely so he was lying practically on top of him, legs tangled together, one arm propping him up and the other moving to cradle Ryan’s jaw. Brendon intended to steal his breath, and after what he believed to be sufficient, he pulled back, and broke out into a satisfied grin. ”What do you say we just don’t go anywhere? Forget everything I just said.”

It was true that Brendon always corrected his self-conscious putdowns, should they occur, but Ryan continued to believe he had the personality of a slab of concrete. Pretty lucky that he ended up with all the personality in the world, in that case. Actually, all jokes aside, Ryan was fairly certain that Brendon contributed to, like, eighty percent of his character - the other twenty was provided by, on the negative side, whatever childhood trauma he experienced that made him so generally clumsy, and on the positive side, all of his interests and hobbies. The fact was that he grew up with Brendon (and Dallon and Spencer and Z and everyone else that had a notable influence) and reflected some of his qualities, or at least tried to emulate the ones he admired. When he learned that Brendon played piano, he tried to pick it up, too, for instance. Or when he learned that Brendon was a film geek, particularly Disney at the time, he picked that interest up, too, then Sinatra, then theatre, and he stopped hating video games the first time he saw that Brendon was an Xbox fanboy. Really, Ryan was the Cady Heron to Brendon's Regina George, except he never ended up hating him or watching him get hit by a bus, or anything like that.

Sometimes Ryan forgot that he somehow had the same effect on Brendon as Brendon had on him, and remembered when he cracked his eyes open finally and saw the smile appear on his face. Brendon had told him before exactly how he felt about his supposedly 'honey-coloured' eyes - "doubtful" was Ryan's instinct response, and he was flattered, but also way too shy to accept that kindness. He quickly looked away with his entire head when he let Brendon up, rolling his eyes and shoving his face against a pillow for a second. Feeling eyes on him still he turned back, realising he'd begun talking too quickly for Brendon to fit in another kiss. He grinned conspiratorially, watching his expression change and waiting for a response that never came. Instead Brendon returned his affections stronger, more boldly, and Ryan wrapped his arms around him easily when he moved closer.

He had the briefest moment where he wanted to knock out the arm Brendon had holding him up if only to actually cuddle, but that seemed kind of evil and besides he liked the slower pace. As it were, he let himself lean against Brendon's hand, more being kissed than he was kissing back, only really responding actively with an encouraging hand stroking through Brendon's hair. What do you say we just don’t go anywhere? Forget everything I just said. Ryan sucked his teeth audibly, very obviously holding on to the nape of Brendon's neck as if their lips were still connected. "We do this every time. Don't know if you noticed." He definitely had, and Ryan knew that, so he leaned up again for a split second to very quickly plant another small kiss on the corner of Brendon's mouth. "But... agreed. Thinking about walking in a public area makes my blood pressure spike." He was kidding. Kind of.

Still, it was laughable how often they just gave up on their plans, even the impulsive ones, in favour of situations just like this one. They ended up wrapped around each other, or with some part of their bodies touching at least, no matter whether they were actually interacting with each other or not. Really they could just be scrolling mindlessly through their phones and have their legs tangled together, heads on opposite cushions, probably subtweeting the other occasionally. Ryan attributed it to laziness (although the truth was that he just preferred Brendon's company over anything else, including any very-necessary errands they potentially needed to run). "Safe to say our day's over, then?" he asked innocuously, stretching out as languidly as he could with Brendon pretty much on top of him. He let one hand rise high enough that it was above the couch back and in range of the sunlight pouring through their window, watching his fingers move through the rays and dust motes, then moved his gaze back to Brendon, thinking. "Maybe we're so pale-white 'cause we end up doing this instead of going out."