It would be a lie if Brendon said that Ryan never paid him any attention, or showed any affection, physical or otherwise. The two of them, in general, were very mutually loving and had no problem showing it (even if Brendon often showed it in amounts that weren’t entirely appropriate or suitable due to the fact they were, you know, in public). Either way, they were usually each other’s top priority, forefront in their mind, top of the list of importance. Brendon knew all this, but, Brendon being Brendon, he sometimes conveniently forgot, so that in all of the instances where he acted out for no reason other than to get more attention, he could be self-assured about his own ridiculous behaviour. And it was no different one night, on the first leg of a long album promotion tour, where Brendon had it in his head that he was being neglected by his husband- in that he had been preoccupied with talking to techs, crew and stage managers, doing last minute practice and actually preparing himself properly rather than gravitating towards Brendon, like he usually did.

Now, Brendon wasn’t having it, though maybe he’d dug his own grave- in the past, Brendon had always said that Ryan should do whatever was necessary to get ready for anxiety-inducing stadium shows (or just regular ones), but he honestly never believed that maybe talking to him wasn’t actually Ryan’s best way forward. Even now he wasn’t buying that maybe Ryan was just distancing himself from it all to calm down, and Brendon, being the frontman, wasn’t exactly what you could call ‘distant’. Instead, he decided to internally accuse Ryan of ignoring him for the sake of ignoring him, that he wasn’t interesting enough, that maybe he didn’t look particularly good or something. And Brendon knew all of this wasn’t true, he didn’t tend to have many outward confidence issues. So, he was annoyed- whether his level of irritation was appropriate or not, he was still annoyed, and intended to keep that bit of trivia to himself because he had an overly petty plan to make himself feel better.

Right before they were due to go on stage, he tried to approach Ryan again, to hint for a kiss, but Ryan was absently strumming on his guitar and just smiled at him instead. Brendon bristled visibly and just turned around- and so, he went on stage, annoyed. There was a tense energy around him, like he wasn’t fully content, wound up and way too bothered. It was childish- but Brendon felt like a neglected puppy, and that confusion and hurt instantly morphed into anger and frustration, energy he needed to release in destructive ways, both to calm down and intentionally draw a reaction, any reaction, from Ryan. Any attention was good attention at this point, because apparently Brendon was utterly starved. The first song was uneventful, Brendon repeatedly trying to engage with Ryan but failing because he was focusing on playing for once. Brendon always told him to do that, and now it was happening, he was beyond frustrated.

So he tried the first in a line of tricks up his sleeve- hitting unnecessarily high notes in songs that didn’t even have them. He constantly looked over afterwards, out of breath- and Ryan barely even looked at him. Or was he imagining that? Brendon realised that wasn’t going to work, and instead resorted to jumping on amps and backflipping off them without looking or actually preparing where he’d land, and then jumping down off stage, attempting to run into the audience before a bodyguard stressed out and physically stopped him, semi-manhandling him back on stage. Brendon was laughing, exhilarated. At this point, Ryan had taken notice, and was clearly starting to stress out, obviously annoyed. Away from the mics, Ryan has spoken to him hushedly- something like stop it, you’ll hurt yourself- But Brendon pretended not to hear, shrugging and turning away. It was working- this fuelled his behaviour.

His next step was probably too far, but at the time he didn’t really consider that. He had pranced over to Dallon during I write Sins, just like always, but this time his behaviour was substantially more provocative, as he’d taken his shirt off and he wrapped his hand around the back of Dallon’s neck and pressed close, sharing the mic briefly and then actually leaning forwards and kissing him. It was brief and almost didn’t happen, but it was definitely a kiss. Dallon looked a little like a deer caught in headlights and Brendon was laughing, whirling around and continuing the show, staying consistent with his antics all the way til the end where he backflipped off the stage and luckily landed quite well. Then they were offstage, no encore this time.

There was a quick turnover between end of the show and arrival at the hotel, but throughout the entire drive, Ryan was deathly silent, staring out of the window. Brendon was still riding the adrenaline of the show and didn’t really care, because the other band members were buzzing about it, but when they were alone in the hotel room, he couldn’t avoid the awkward silence. So he broke it. ”Why are you fuckin’ miserable? That crowd was awesome.”

They hadn't been on stage for a while before this new tour and Ryan found that it was just as anxiety inducing as usual. Brendon, however, had thrown him a few suggestions, and he figured if Brendon was always comfortable with the routine then his advice would be best. Make yourself feel as prepared as possible was the gist of the first piece of advice - it made sense, considering Ryan felt dumb and out of place and wrong whenever he stepped foot on stage. So this time around he practiced engaging with the crew, understanding how the show would be set up, or he'd go to tech to discover what the mechanics of it all would be. He usually spent his time locked away in a dressing room or linked at the hip with Brendon (or both), but getting to know what was going to happen over the next hour or so was probably a good idea. When he did, it really was almost a weight off his shoulders, and now he wouldn't feel like he was in the eye of the storm whenever crew members circled around him to trade out instruments.

Making himself unnecessarily busy was all well and good until he realised he kind of missed spending the prep time with his husband, expending nervous energy before the set or just curling up together in full costume while people bustled around them actually working. It was practically his favourite part of it all, even more than their romance onstage ('cause the bad part of that was the feeling of hundreds of eyes on him, give or take). He tried to stay away, though, to avoid distraction, at least until they were closer to the actual playing portion of all of this. Brendon found him eventually, lucky for Ryan, and he grinned over his work of retuning the guitar, completely missing any prompting he might have been expressing through body language alone. Brendon did not seem to be too happy about that. Ryan sort of worried over his strings for a few moments before traipsing after him, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and sending a puzzled glance in his direction before bowing his head, focusing on his instrument rather than the stadium of people.

Brendon's second piece of advice: try not to get caught up in everything else; just play. It was especially useful for Ryan, who constantly got distracted staring at the numbers of people before him, or who'd look to Brendon for comfort only to stare at him for the rest of the show and consequently miss cues. So he did his best with that, fixing his gaze only on his hands and where his pick landed, careening up to the mic when he registered that he was supposed to be backup in the moment. Sometimes he saw from his periphery Brendon approaching, or Brendon gesturing to him in some way, and he smiled a little to himself but otherwise didn't try to approach him in case it threw him off. Maybe that was more a testament to Brendon's abilities - he was just so intriguing that he caught and held the attention of someone he'd known forever, someone who should be used to it. Either way, Ryan was pretty weak. He just banked on the possibility that maybe someday he could play well and actually be all stage-performative with his husband at the same time.

When he heard new tones to songs he thought he knew well he shot Brendon curious looks, always clandestine to avoid prompting him over, but he was shocked to say the least - it's like Brendon wanted to burn out on the first leg. But Ryan was more concerned with how he even managed to pull it off so well... He pushed it aside in favor of sticking to what he'd promised himself to: actually focusing on playing. It became harder to do the more he saw Brendon moving around, leaping from set pieces and recklessly jumping down before the barrier, getting dangerously close to breaking through to them before security finally caught him. That threw Ryan so off guard that he really did miss several notes while he moved to the edge of the stage, nearly pushing his guitar aside like he was preparing to go after him but for the most part staring wide-eyed from stress. As soon as the bodyguard dragged Brendon back up on stage, looking comically small in his arms, Ryan backed up, resisting the urge to help him up because he was more than just irritated about his carelessness.

So his husband had a death wish. Nothing new about that, really, but Ryan still twisted their mics aside while a brief intermission took place, leaning in to speak with him in a tone of warning. "You're going to hurt yourself, calm down," was really all he could manage in the short time frame, but it didn't matter - Brendon was already off, ready to start with Sins. Ryan was definitely watching him now, at least looking over every once in a while to make sure he hadn't gravely injured himself or wasn't about to, only to find that he'd apparently adopted a new fun habit. Clothes were coming off, it seemed, and that wasn't quite surprising given the song choice, but eventually Brendon strode over to Dallon, enticing as ever, and at first Ryan figured it was just an act while he held the mic between them. But he made it clearly visible: they’d kissed. Well, more accurately, Brendon kissed Dallon, and then Dallon looked appropriately shocked. Mostly, Ryan wasn’t sure which of them he was going to throw his guitar at or whether he should do it now or later. Given the outright laughter, Brendon was the right choice, and ‘now’ was probably good, too. When Brendon backflipped off the stage soon after, Ryan didn’t bother sticking around past watching him land safely - he handed his guitar off and went off stage as quickly as possible.

It probably wasn’t even really his place to get upset about Brendon’s safety, because Brendon was in charge of that himself and he wasn’t seven, so. He didn’t need anyone taking care of him as much as Ryan felt he had to. The kiss, though. He knew Brendon wasn’t being, like, unfaithful or whatever it might signify, but the kiss made it clear there was a common link between all of his antics. He was definitely just trying to rile Ryan up, for God knows what reason. Ryan thought back to when he just smiled at Brendon and Brendon did a 180, walking straight away, just before the set. Was that the beginning or had he done something wrong before that? Seemed pretty trivial. Also, not worth getting poor Dallon involved. Nothing was. Dallon had put up with a lot of their shit all their lives, and this definitely wasn’t the worst stunt pulled on him, but Ryan thought they’d been doing pretty well not bothering him lately. He mourned the clean streak just as much as he agonized over that hell of a show.

He was silent, made no sound after he’d given the crew flat ‘goodbye’s, just stared anywhere he wasn’t looking at Brendon. He figured if he did interact with him, Brendon would just try to piss him off again, and they knew each other way too well for him to not succeed in an attempt. So Ryan stayed closed off as long as he could - until they were in the hotel room. He probably could’ve continued the silent treatment had Brendon not spoken up first. Why are you fuckin’ miserable? That crowd was awesome. Ryan had barely shrugged his jacket off, and he turned with his arms still half in the sleeves to look at Brendon incredulously. Thinking maybe he’d have to find someone else in the band less volatile to share a room with anyway, Ryan shrugged the fabric back over his shoulders, moving closer to Brendon. ”I don’t care about the crowd,” he snapped, in what was a mostly low, controlled voice. ”I care about you apparently having some kind of death wish. I thought we talked about you being so reckless before - you know how much that scares me, Brendon.” His voice gradually betrayed him more, the stressed edge becoming more obvious as he spoke. ”Why were you even doing all that? And - whatever you’re mad about, I really don’t see why you thought it’d be fine to drag Dallon into it, by the way.” He tried not to get into too much detail about how the kiss bothered him a ridiculous amount in spite of the security he felt in their relationship, ‘cause, well. He already kind of looked like the crazy overreacting side of this anyway.

The advice that Brendon had given, though it has blossomed from only good intentions when he quite easily noticed Ryan’s increasing anxiety both before shows and during, was, in his opinion, coming back to bite him- it was his belief, and quite a selfish one, that he hadn’t thought offering such help to his husband all the way through, and it was not at all beneficial for Brendon. No matter how more lax and chilled out Ryan seemed (he was kind of smug that his advice had worked out after all, but that was besides the point) all Brendon could focus on was how it affected him- and it did, even if really, Brendon should just care about that and should prioritise his husband’s anxiety and feelings over his own bruised ego. He felt neglected- the time before shows that was usually spent with Ryan had been stolen from him, because of his own dumb advice, and the fact that Ryan seemed more interested and absorbed with his guitar than he was with Brendon himself. How could that be? Brendon had seen himself in the mirror. He wasn’t blind- and neither was Ryan. He came to the conclusion that this ignorance to Brendon’s body language and behaviour was intentional.

Okay, so he got a smile, maybe, but that was pitiful. Brendon was used to a kiss, maybe a few, before going on and at the beginning of the set, but it was the start of the show and Brendon was sure he hadn’t received one in hours because Ryan was busy actually helping himself out for once. He was quite close to throwing a tantrum right there and then, but he just did a one-eighty when he was shunned, determined suddenly to get a rise out of him somehow- positive or negative. So, like a toddler, he acted out, going against everything that stage crew, security, the band, and Ryan had said to have with regards on how to behave, making a mess but simultaneously putting on a good show to make it seem like it was all planned. The fans seemed to love it, and didn’t notice the frustration of the security, the fear-annoyance-anxiety on Ryan’s face, the confusion of the other band members. This, along with his desire to push Ryan as far as he could, just added fuel to the fire. There was no way he was calming down now.

Not even Ryan’s hasty scold slowed him down; instead, it told him that his methods were working. His heart was hammering from the expenditure and he launched back in to being unnecessarily reckless and dramatic, extending those notes again and doing half-practiced, un-mastered somersaults off stage equipment and amps and even starting to climb up some decorations at one point, dropping back down only when he realised it was time for him to sing again. This was all relatively frustrating from Ryan, as he could tell, but for Brendon this wasn’t enough. He was on a destructive roll now- and his next step was to drag in poor Dallon, who had no idea what was going on and looked just as stunned as Ryan when Brendon leaned in to kiss him. The kiss itself was strange and alien and brief and Brendon, for a second, was unsure of himself. That wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have done that, He told himself for a few moments, considering backtracking- but then he looked over at Ryan, saw his expression and realised he’d succeeded and if he backed down now it’d be embarrassing.

They said their goodbyes and when Brendon turned around from giving his little speech of appreciation to the crowd, Ryan was gone. He bounded after the rest of the crew, artfully dodging Dallon when he sensed his friend was about to yell at him, and ended up on the tour bus pretty quickly, sitting not quite next to but parallel to Ryan, on the other side of the bus. He didn’t feel very welcome, and the band members were a little awkwardly quiet, but he didn’t care. In Brendon’s eyes, it had been a great show- and he still had energy to spare. They got back to the hotel, and Brendon was still wound up, ready to go again. Ryan apparently was, too. I don’t care about the crowd. ”Damn, that isn’t the image we’re going for, babe.” Brendon grinned, amused, crossing his arms. I care about you apparently having some kind of death wish. Rolling his eyes, Brendon shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, overheating already.

”It’s called having a little fun, Ryan, look it up.” He said tersely, crossing the room and shrugging off his shirt, dropping it on the bed and then turning around. I thought we talked about you being so reckless before - you know how much that scares me, Brendon. ”And I ignored you, because you seem determined to ruin my fun. Anyway, it’s not about what you want- I’m performing for the fans, not for you, not that you’d care much if I was.” The grudge was evident in his tone, then, and he rubbed his own arm absently, levelling Ryan as his husband stepped a little closer, with purpose. He looked pretty pissed, but Brendon couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry. Why were you even doing all that? ”Why not? You wouldn’t even look at me the entire show, I had to entertain myself somehow.” Brendon dragged his fingers back through his own hair, and cracked his neck both ways, stretching out his arms when he finished. He absently realised he needed a shower but it’d probably have to wait.

And- whatever you’re mad about, I really don’t see why you thought it’d be fine to drag Dallon into it, by the way. Brendon had to stop himself from visibly smirking. ”Whatever. He was even more into it than I was,” He said airily, looking down at the gap between where the two of them were standing and then back up to Ryan. ”Anyway, someone’s gotta kiss me. You wouldn’t.”

Ryan had been kind of hoping they just wouldn’t talk to each other for a while - then he was less likely to be visibly upset about it all. The annoyance was still fresh, though, and behind it he was somewhat concerned/hurt/withdrawn, all things he was ignoring in favor of looking as irritated as ever. That seemed to communicate a lot more than words. Even so, Brendon was still just as excitable as usual while on the bus, enthusiastic with the others until it seemed like they were a little uncertain how to feel about it all, and even that didn’t kill his mood. A lot of the time, Ryan would be angry with Brendon and then conveniently forget what he was even initially mad about when Brendon did something endearing or was just so much like himself that it charmed Ryan. This didn’t really feel like one of those times, but then it had been Brendon being very self-expressive that set him off originally, so. Maybe he was immune to it for once.

He definitely was, ‘cause Brendon’s reply was behind an easy smile and all it did was frustrate Ryan more. Damn, that isn’t the image we’re going for, babe. He stared at him in disbelief for a second before continuing, voicing genuine concerns that were answered with Brendon rolling his eyes, not even subtly. He was pretty sure Brendon really didn’t mean any of it, and in fact would probably regret it sometime in the near future when he was no longer feeling the need to lash out, but. Ryan couldn’t really muster up any patience to wait it out until he came to reason by his own means. It’s called having a little fun, Ryan, look it up. Ryan watched him move past but didn’t turn around right away, instead scrubbing his hands over his eyes tiredly. For half a second he considered that maybe he was the one taking it all too personally - it happened so often he had to take a step back and question himself - but he pushed it away, deciding this fell under the category of him being charmed by Brendon again.

Ryan turned around after a moment, his vision still spotty from shoving the heel of his palms against his eyes so roughly, but behind it all he saw Brendon losing more layers and tossing them behind him. Ryan kind of considered that part of the charm thing, too, and when Brendon turned again he pursed his lips, losing his will to be truly vindictive anymore. He stayed on course anyway. And I ignored you, because you seem determined to ruin my fun. Anyway, it’s not about what you want- I’m performing for the fans, not for you, not that you’d care much if I was. Ryan was speechless for a second. ”I’m not-“ Wait. Ryan replayed that in his head, heard the subtext behind ‘not that you’d care much if I was’ and realised why Brendon was acting out. His reflex reaction was to get more pissed about it, because Brendon being this childish over not getting enough attention was beyond frustrating, but it was Brendon. If he really felt neglected, he felt it to his core. Just after Ryan cut himself off in the middle of objecting to ‘ruining his fun,’ his expression lost half of its annoyance, his demeanor softening by a fraction. ”No, Brendon,” he said carefully, a little more patient. ”I just don’t want you getting hurt because I care about you.” He sensed a comeback already, ‘well you don’t show it much,’ and, well. What can you do. He figured he could just apologise and get it over with, easily.

But, really, he didn’t want Brendon to think he was in the right for acting like that, and brushing everything off just so they didn’t have to fight wouldn’t fix anything. Clearly his husband was beside himself, and it was hard to reverse that certainty, but Ryan knew he’d just do the same in the future at minor provocations if not. Brendon levelled with him, and he stayed where he was, resisting the urge to step back in counterpoint. Why not? You wouldn’t even look at me the entire show, I had to entertain myself somehow. Brendon, apparently uninterested in the conversation at hand, looked unfocused, his thoughts elsewhere. ”You told me I should focus during the shows. I can’t play and - do whatever you want me to do, I don’t even know. Am I supposed to stare at you the whole time?” Well. It’s not like that wasn’t how things used to be. He knew during all the earlier shows he tended to just look at Brendon half the time rather than the crowd, not so much for comfort as he claimed but ‘cause, y’know. Maybe he’d given Brendon some unrealistic expectations of how well he could play and watch him at the same time.

Nevertheless, after all of this, it still seemed like Brendon was pleased with himself, holding back his amusement probably for the sake of Ryan not jumping him but it really wasn’t helping much. He maintained the tiny amount of patience he’d developed a minute ago, though, trying not to snap at him and rather be firm. Whatever. He was even more into it than I was. That certainly didn’t make matters easier - and he had received a few fearful glances from Dallon that said otherwise, like he was afraid to feel Ryan’s wrath. Which he didn’t even have the energy to summon up, apparently, because he just stared blankly at Brendon, wondering how far he would push it before getting tired. Anyway, someone’s gotta kiss me. You wouldn’t. Ryan sucked in a weighted breath, closing his eyes for a long moment before tilting his head at Brendon. ”You want me to kiss you?” The hint of laughter behind his voice was definitely not from any humor, just genuinely taken aback. ”You threw yourself off a stage, pissed off security, and dragged in an innocent bystander ‘cause you wanted me to kiss you. Is that right?” He backtracked. ”Actually, I forgot - you also expect me to watch you the entire show rather than play my part. I assume I should also stay at your beck and call before the show.”

Ryan backed off, sighing, and gazed at the floor briefly before looking back up at Brendon. ”I love you, but I’m not just here- at your disposal, or whatever.” He supposed he was kind of giving in to Brendon’s apparent desperate need for attention, but maybe he was getting through anyway.

So maybe just letting it all cool down a little was the best thing to do in theory, but in practice, Brendon didn’t have a patient bone in his body, and the prospect of not being able to pick a ridiculously petty fight until Ryan sought conversation out first wasn’t exactly realistic. So, when they were both inside the room, the door barely having shut behind them, he started on Ryan- beginning by acting like he had no idea what was rubbing his husband the wrong way, despite the fact everything he’d done today had been specifically to wind him up. Ryan looked kind of disbelieving at Brendon’s glaring display of aggressive, active and feigned nonchalance; Brendon, beyond caring what Ryan thought at this point, just crossed the room, losing layers. Distantly, he imagined a situation that involved such an action where Ryan maybe wasn’t extremely agitated and he wasn’t intentionally trying to get a rise out of him. It was quickly gone when he dropped his shirt on the floor, shrugging it off his shoulders and then turning back towards Ryan, who had pressed his hands into his eyes.

Brendon waited, and Ryan turned around, his arms falling to his sides. He looked way too tired for this, but Brendon was still riding the adrenaline rush and that was apparently coming to being in very negative ways. No, Brendon. In his mind, Ryan was just determined to make his day, and now his evening, miserable. This all could have been avoided if Ryan had been a little more attentive to someone who required a little more attention than was normal. In some ways, he was like a spoilt child- Ryan kind of did regard him as the centre of his universe sometimes, and treated him with unfaltering affection, and when this was taken away, Brendon wasn’t used to it and demanded his old behaviour back, because he apparently couldn’t cope with anything else. It was almost embarrassing, but Brendon apparently lacked some self-awareness. He was sulking, the embodiment at that moment of a man-child; it was assured that he would backtrack and regret everything in time, but Brendon saw nothing wrong with his behaviour as of yet. I just don’t want you getting hurt because I care about you. ”Whatever you say. I don’t need you breathing down my neck all the time.”

You told me I should focus during the shows. That was true, and Brendon didn’t deny it, just kind of furrowed his brow and looked away for a moment, thrown. When his hand dropped from running through his own hair, he shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly and spoke towards the ground. ”I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” He said hesitantly. That argument was embarrassing and he wanted to move on, but Ryan wasn’t letting that go because it was leverage. I can’t play and- do whatever you want me to do, I don’t even know. Am I supposed to stare at you the whole time? Brendon’s eyebrows raised scornfully. "You can’t act above all that now. You didn’t seem to have a problem with that until- this tour. You’re perfectly capable of playing and-“ And what? Watch him all the time? The words sounded ridiculous even in his head, so he faltered and stopped, trying to form a better comeback. For once in his life, he failed, and just managed to look even more annoyed.

He had some kind of leverage, though, in that dumb kiss. Brendon knew Ryan wasn’t insecure enough to suspect unfaithfulness (though in hindsight it seemed like a good weak point), but still- a kiss was a kiss, no matter the circumstance, and Ryan was allowed to be annoyed. Brendon certainly would have been- perhaps even more so than Ryan, who was probably doing the Arthur fist right now if Brendon bothered to look down and check. You want me to kiss you? How could such a sentence sound so aggressive? Brendon was now uncomfortable, the laugh setting him on edge as he shifted his weight. ”Why, is that too much to ask?” You threw yourself off a stage, pissed off security, and dragged in an innocent bystander ‘cause you wanted me to kiss you. Is that right? Another pause. It did sound laughable now that Ryan had laid it out for him. Brendon bit his lip, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

”Yeah, pretty much. It’s better than me not caring, Ryan- it’s not like I was asking for the fucking earth.” He offered, kind of unhappy with where this was going now, but his spirit was far from gone yet. Actually, I forgot - you also expect me to watch you the entire show rather than play my part. I assume I should also stay at your beck and call before the show. That was rich coming from somebody who usually was at Brendon’s practical beck and call. He never thought of it that way before, but his anger had kind of twisted his perception and judgement. Their relationship was nowhere near the dynamic that Brendon was making it out to be. ”Yeah, I mean, you should be flattered,” He said airily, geniune arrogance obvious in his lordly tone and stance, ”It’s not like there’s a shortage of people who would be willing.”

Ryan offered a sigh and Brendon was frustrated by his lack of passion. I love you, but I’m not just here- at your disposal, or whatever. Now there was an opportunity he’d be wise to pass up. But Brendon wasn’t exactly in the mood to use common reason. ”Yeah, sure you do.”

Ryan thought maybe Brendon would sympathize with his situation if he knew he was just worried, not trying to be a demanding jerk or anything, but it seemed like he didn't really care (most likely 'cause even if Ryan worried about his safety, he never could summon the energy to mind; Ryan knew he wasn't being malicious). The sulking was kind of familiar. He got it when he spent too long in his office, or he'd been out all day for too long without texting him enough, or any scenario where he was naturally busy and otherwise preoccupied. Usually he could laugh it off eventually - at Brendon's expense, which didn't help matters, but at least Ryan lost the tension he felt - but in this case Brendon had put himself in the line of danger seemingly on purpose, and. Still. Poor Dallon. He figured the imposing amount of high notes and vocal acrobatics Brendon was doing in the beginning was to achieve the same thing, Ryan's attention, and when it didn't work he moved onto worse schemes. If only he'd looked up that first time.

It was weird, because Brendon wasn't really hypocritical necessarily - after all, Ryan didn't have the same dissatisfied need for someone to praise him verbally or otherwise, so their situations were worlds apart - but he sometimes did similar things. When Ryan came too close while he wasn't feeling it (probably overheating) and shrugged him off, or when Ryan woke up and realized they'd either separated by a few feet in bed or Brendon had just gone to the couch altogether. That sort of thing Ryan was nearly as dramatic about as Brendon was now, probably, even though he knew there was a fair reason behind it other than 'my husband doesn't want to he near me' or something. But in their case, Ryan had reasons for not following him around like a lovesick puppy all day, too, and Brendon not picking it up was immensely frustrating.

When Ryan voiced his worries, Brendon appeared to brush it off without giving thought to it. Whatever you say. I don’t need you breathing down my neck all the time. Ryan blinked at him, dumbfounded, half because he was offended by how flippant he was being, and half confused because Ryan 'breathing down his neck all the time' should realistically qualify as a sort of attention, no? Evidently Brendon had specific tastes, though. He didn't bother questioning it, just reminded Brendon of who encouraged him to be more attentive to his job. I didn’t think you’d actually do it. He looked a little bit remorseful now, like he hadn't wanted this, and Ryan wondered what he thought would happen. That he'd come to the hotel and Ryan would forget everything in favor of showering him with affection? Surely he didn't intentionally provoke an argument. Considering it looked like he was kind of over his own manufactured disagreement, though, Ryan supposed Brendon was kind of crazy enough to do that.

You can’t act above all that now. You didn’t seem to have a problem with that until- this tour. You’re perfectly capable of playing and- Ryan stared expectantly for a good few seconds until he came to terms with the fact that Brendon had found a fundamental flaw in his own side of the argument. He didn't look smug, or anything; in fact a little more tired, shaking his head somewhat. If Brendon looked sick of all this a few moments ago and was now unable to make excuses for himself, maybe it was time to cut this short; forgive and forget. But that was what he usually did. Ryan wasn't sure that just letting go of it would keep it from happening again, but... that was so much easier than trying to 'fix' Brendon. This was just a quirk that they had to deal with sometimes.

His disbelief about Brendon acting out like this over wanting a kiss (metaphorically standing in for all kinds of affection, of course, but Ryan made it out to be far more unreasonable this way) was kind of funny after a few seconds of initially being mad about it. He tried not to laugh or anything too stupid, though, figuring Brendon would either take it to heart or it'd seem like he wasn't serious about any of this. Why, is that too much to ask? Ryan smiled for a few moments, amused, and then remembered he was supposed to be pissed off. Mostly he was thinking more about how wonderfully weird his husband was, and then Brendon answered. Yeah, pretty much. It’s better than me not caring, Ryan- it’s not like I was asking for the fucking earth. He wasn't sure that it was better, but anyway he was still sort of smirking at the prospect of Brendon's tantrum coming from a provocation like that, so he didn't directly argue. "No, you're right," he said easily, figuring being agreeable even clearly without meaning it would probably throw him off. "This is a reasonable reaction to, uh... me not kissing you, whenever I was supposed to." He shrugged - he actually genuinely had no idea what his cue for that was meant to be, he'd busied himself so much.

However, at Ryan's suggestion he just be virtually entirely subservient to Brendon, he turned more arrogant - Ryan had given him ammunition for it, anyway. Yeah, I mean, you should be flattered. He crossed his arms over his chest to try to distract from the fact that he was still dangerously close to cracking up. He knew Brendon was dead serious, but. It was all so... trivial, it almost sounded like he was joking. It’s not like there’s a shortage of people who would be willing. He couldn't even get offended by that like he usually would. "I'm very flattered," he replied, sarcasm as low as possible in his voice, but even if it was undetectable the constantly suppressed grin on his face probably give him away. His body language was maybe even worse than any response he could give Brendon.

Throwing 'I love you' into the fighting ring while you weren't engaged in very friendly conversation was never a good idea, but it felt like he needed to assure Brendon of it for whatever reason. Yeah, sure you do. Ryan studied him closely for a moment, feeling his chest sink and the side-smile on his face fade minutely. He knew he wasn't serious - nothing he'd said thus far was. It just sucked to hear. "Yeah, I do. And you know it, so don't act like that," he said after the pause, unfolding his arms and regaining his surety. He decided he'd humor Brendon, just 'cause it was all still clearly kind of funny to him. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do now? I'll make up for it, just tell me what you want." Waiting for the punchline, Ryan stepped closer, working the scant centimeters he had over Brendon just so he could bow his head and look at him quizzically. He figured he couldn't lose with this approach - either he'd not come up with anything at all or it'd be something equally as amusing as this entire situation had become.

So maybe Brendon was starting to sound a little like a broken record, and a little like an eager, desperate puppy, but Ryan never listened to him and this sudden shift from constant round-the-clock attention to... well, a little less, to Brendon seemed like he was being neglected in favour of something trivial, like work. In all fairness, he had been the one to try and convince Ryan that he needed to focus more, than he needed to make his own music (because Brendon adored it)- but, like he said. He never thought Ryan would actually listen to him and follow through with actual results. Deep down, Brendon was proud of him; Ryan didn’t always have the greatest work ethic and to see him actually concentrating while playing and actually taking time for his own music and not being at Brendon’s ‘beck and call’ was probably, now he thought about it, action worthy of praise, not deserving of such petty complaints. Brendon hesitated momentarily, because though he was still angry and motivated by his own perceived neglect, he was starting to become self aware. It wasn’t fun. All he wanted was for it to be like normal after shows- they’d be breathless and tired and would go practically straight to bed anyway, but it was nice, familiar. Brendon felt completely uncomfortable, and this emotion had mixed with his frustration in an unwelcome cocktail.

Ryan sometimes behaved in similar ways- like when Brendon overheated and left their room in the middle of the night to crash on the couch- but nowhere near this level of dramatic, and it never grew into anything past mild mournfulness. He always got over it, never angry, like Brendon was now; something inside of him just tended to convert all negative emotions from confusion to sadness into anger, that Aries passion kind of a curse because he experienced everything so intensely and often dealt with it in the wrong ways. So, when Ryan simply said he was worried about Brendon being so flippant and reckless, Brendon just rebuked his concern, almost going back on his own argument to say that he didn’t need constant attention. The fact was, he did, but not like he was being parented. He got enough of that from Dallon; he didn’t need it from his husband.

Again, he found a flaw in his own argument and faltered, kind of losing track of what he was saying and avoiding eye contact with Ryan, who he could see from the corner of his eye was shaking his head, seeming very exasperated- but still patient. Maybe Brendon was being ridiculous and inconsiderate- Ryan had remained relatively patient and Brendon couldn’t fault him for that, really; but he found himself getting more worked up anyway because why couldn’t he be that chill? Well. Ryan was far from what someone would describe as a ‘chill’ person, but in this situation, with Brendon acting a little deranged, he was the one smelling of roses while Brendon was floundering. He hated it- Brendon, though he always talked about going with the flow, liked to be at least in rough control. This wasn’t under his control any more.

For a moment, he had almost regained his footing, but then. No, you’re right. That threw him off. Brendon narrowed his eyes, and was outraged that upon closer study, Ryan was smiling. Frustration and upset inappropriate for such a relatively trivial matter was suddenly overwhelming and he struggled to find a response, just stared, dumbfounded. This is a reasonable reaction to, uh... Me not kissing you, whenever I was supposed to. It was obvious that Ryan still wasn’t, and didn’t plan on, taking him seriously- so Brendon kind of lashed out, trying to regain advantage and this was all wrong, this wasn’t how married couples were supposed to treat and talk to eachother, but he was too far gone now. He couldn’t back out now- he was too proud to admit defeat.

I’m flattered. Sarcasm, a suppressed grin- Brendon felt, for once in his life, very taken for granted- Ryan didn’t seem particularly bothered by anything he said, and though future him would be glad no real offence was caused, he really did feel unappreciated. Whether the cause was valid enough to that emotion to be viable, he felt it either way. Brendon kind of pushed the line out of hurt, then went quiet, just watching resignedly as Ryan stepped closer. Yeah, I do. And you know it, so don’t act like that. Brendon could have scoffed, said you haven’t really acknowledged my existence today, never mind the fact you love me, But Brendon was still rendered uncharacteristically mute.

Okay, so what am I supposed to do now? ”I don’t know, fuck off?” I’ll make up for it, don’t tell me what you want. Ryan, quite obviously very amused by Brendon’s irritation, extended himself up to emphasise the height difference, and Brendon felt small. He crossed his arms across his chest, looking back at him. ”A new roommate,” Brendon said stonily, with dead seriousness, then stepped back and turned around, going over to the bedside table where he’d left his phone, checking the time and then turning back around to face him. ”I can tell you think this is funny, and whatever. Maybe I am selfish- childish- arrogant- whatever you think of me,” He said almost delicately, like he couldn’t bear to say it himself. ”But you hurt my feelings today and you don’t care. So fuck you.” Brendon hesitated then turned away towards the bathroom, walking into the suite and closing the door behind him. He didn’t lock it.

Unsurprisingly, Brendon did not seem at all pleased with the fact that Ryan found all of this more than a little amusing, after his initial disbelief and irritation. He supposed, even if smiling was harmless, that it meant something completely different to Brendon. Brendon, who had taken maybe a handful of hours apart from Ryan to heart, as if he'd been completely deserted on purpose. Of course Brendon would think his amusement was entirely disrespectful laughter at his expense - and it kind of was, technically, but not in a bad way, necessarily. As much as he'd tried to convince himself before not to let the adoring thoughts take over, he naturally thought Brendon's half-assed arguments and weak excuses were so basic that it was almost... he wasn't sure. Cute? Apparently anything Brendon did could be twisted that way. Maybe if Brendon could just read his thoughts, then, he'd never have any worries about a lack of attention.

On any other day, Ryan's ingrained 'control freak' nature and self-righteousness might have taken hold already and he'd have already scared Brendon off; or he'd be in the position he was now, without any of the considerations he only recently began taking in. Like, maybe he should be giving Brendon some leeway, since he couldn't help blowing things out of proportion sometimes. Ryan should understand, considering he did it constantly, just in radically different situations (and perhaps that's why he didn't connect their likeness at first). What was funny to him was easily something that could ruin the entire tour for Brendon. Ryan was no good at apologies, so he may as well stop what was happening in its tracks before it got worse. It was already pretty awful, though, because Brendon was quiet and flat as ever compared to his usual self once Ryan had started cracking up at the situation.

He asked outright - and kind of condescendingly, whoops - what exactly he should do to reverse the circumstances. Brendon didn't take well to that either. I don’t know, fuck off? Ryan's countenace turned slightly exasperated despite his resolve to himself to practice more patience with his characteristically fiery husband. He opened his mouth as if to respond to that, sharply or otherwise, and instead moved on to further questions. A new roommate. He was serious. Ryan followed him closely when he moved away, worry growing on him. He would be glad to let Brendon have some kind of space or another resolve to cool down, but if it could even possibly lead to him permanently leaving until they went to their next show, he'd do whatever he could to stop it. Knowing he'd upset Brendon that much would probably ruin his mood for, like, a week. And rooming up with the others always sucked in comparison - he ended up thinking about who could be in the bed next to him (or stuffed into the twin-sized bed with him) every time without fail. Even so, every time he opened his mouth he made the situation worse, so he clamped it shut, just watching Brendon continue for the time being.

I can tell you think this is funny, and whatever. Maybe I am selfish- childish- arrogant- whatever you think of me. No, it definitely wasn't funny anymore, because the way Brendon sounded literally pained him. Having lost his amused expression a long time ago, Ryan's eyebrows knotted together, genuine concern crossing his face instead. But you hurt my feelings today and you don’t care. So fuck you. "Brendon," he protested quickly, but he was already moving away towards their connected bathroom. Shit. Ryan followed after him again, figuring he'd probably just get pushed away if he tried to grab his arm or something - not that Brendon was really strong enough, but it's not like Ryan was going to physically force him with a vice grip to stay in the room. He was a little ridiculous sometimes but Ryan respected his free will, and right now he had to fix the resolve Brendon had made to just change rooms so that he didn't have to watch helplessly as it happened.

The door closed right in front of his face and Ryan paused, hesitant, before tentatively placing his fingertips on the doorhandle. Talking through the door would just make it easier for Brendon to ignore him, probably. Ryan considered his options for a moment longer before finally stepping through, blinking at the new lighting and facing away from the oversized reflective mirror so it didn't distract his periphery as much. Thank god Brendon didn't lock him out (or just didn't get the chance to). "Brendon, baby, listen," he said more delicately, navigating the suite until he could get in front of Brendon and press a hand to his chest as if to stop him in his tracks. "I'm sorry. You're not selfish, you're not childish, you're not arrogant, none of that. It's mostly funny that... I had to keep convincing myself to stay upset. You're -" 'Cute when you're yelling at me for not kissing you in a timely manner'? That probably wouldn't go over well. "...you're hard to stay mad at, basically."

He took his hand away, curled it back into his own and wrung them together at his waist a little sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings or seem like I was ignoring you, earlier." He wasn't sure that he actually meant to apologise for the apparent attention deprivation that Brendon initially had a grievance about, but what he really did want to apologise for - not acknowledging and taking seriously the fact that Brendon's brain made everything 10x more emotionally jarring - seemed kind of mean to bring up when Brendon hadn't done it first himself. So he let it be. "You're not really getting a new roommate, are you? I thought I might eventually make up for my distractedness today and that'll be hard if you're shacking up with someone else."

By now, Brendon was aware of his own overreaction, but he couldn’t prevent himself from still feeling neglected, and with Ryan’s response only being to practically laugh in his face, he still wasn’t feeling great and wasn’t about to apologise. Maybe the smile on Ryan’s face wasn’t meant maliciously, but Brendon sometimes took things a little personally, and was helplessly bitter despite trying to tell himself it wasn’t that deep. Anyway, if Ryan wasn’t intentionally making a mockery of him, that meant he thought Brendon was just cute or funny or something, and though he would have maybe appreciated the sentiment a few hours ago, now he felt like he wasn’t being taken seriously at all. To be fair, he intended a lot of his actions and words to be lighthearted, just jokes (that, funnily enough, Ryan didn’t always appreciate), so it was sort of understandable as to why Ryan didn’t catch that Brendon was completely serious. Or maybe he did know, and didn’t care, or couldn’t help smirking either way. No matter what the reason was, Brendon wasn’t happy.

Luckily, he got a little better at getting the message across- rather venomously lashing out one last time, his tone stony but somehow simultaneously vulnerable because Brendon felt undermined. Ryan apparently got the picture, because when Brendon turned away after finishing, he saw his husband’s smile fade and expression change. Oh, so he wasn’t completely incapable of taking Brendon seriously- that was a relief. Brendon. He has turned around by then, and intentionally ignored him, just saying rather snarkily to himself, Yeah, that’s my name. Ryan was following him, he knew it, but he didn’t turn round, just kept walking, and then shut the door behind him, hopefully in Ryan’s face. Once he was in the bathroom, there was a brief silence and Brendon turned around, dragging his hands across his face and then through his hair. Suddenly he realised he was in great need of a shower and wrapped his arms around himself, exhaling and turning back around towards the mirror just as the bathroom door opened and Ryan walked in. He felt like saying Get out, but instead just watched silently as Ryan manouvered around and pressed a hand gently against his chest. Brendon, baby, listen.

So that softened his expression just a little- the pet name never failed to make him a little weak, but he quickly recovered and set his jaw. ”That’s, like, the first time you’ve touched me all day,” He remarked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to continue on that tangent again because it would get him nowhere. Still, passive aggressive was his middle name- or rather full aggressive. I’m sorry. Good start. You’re not selfish, you’re not childish, you’re not arrogant, none of that. Brendon sort of pursed his lips, because honestly, he already knew that- but he wasn’t about to admit that he’d said that in the moment because he kind of wanted sympathy points. Brendon was mostly shameless, but even he wouldn’t admit to that. Maybe he was childish, he thought reflectively. It’s mostly funny that... I had to keep convincing myself to stay upset. ”I wish I could say the same,” Came his immediate, dry response, and he looked down finally at the hand against his chest.

You’re- you’re hard to stay mad at, basically. Brendon wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, so he just looked a little confused for a second, hesitating before half-heartedly shrugging one shoulder, still irritated but feeling a loss nonetheless when Ryan took his hand away. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings or seem like I was ignoring you, earlier. ”It’s not seems like, Ryan,” He corrected, sounding exasperated because he wasn’t about to find a compromise, no matter how much he really just wanted this to be a normal evening. ”You were.” His tone was confident and encouraged no argument, almost daring Ryan to try and correct him. You're not really getting a new roommate, are you? Moments ago, the decision has been certain, but now Brendon was unsure- he still wanted the attention he’d made such a fuss over, but also didn’t want to give in so easy. So he didn’t reply. I thought I might eventually make up for my distractedness today and that'll be hard if you're shacking up with someone else.

Again, just moments ago, Brendon would have sneered at the suggestion, but he was only human and the immediate refusal he wished came out of his mouth didn’t form. Instead, he looked a little doubtful, but also stepped slightly closer, tilting his head back and looking up at Ryan almost challengingly. ”Are you sure? If I stay, I probably won’t be able to keep my mouth shut long enough to prevent myself from continuing to talk about the grudge I’ll still be holding.” He was semi-serious, but also leaning more towards saying Yes, I’ll stay than picking up and leaving. After another few moments of consideration, he spoke again. ”You know, I’ll hold you to that. I’m gonna shower.” Expectantly, he stepped back, and glanced towards the bathroom door.

Ryan was apparently able to take Brendon down a notch, as evidenced in the most minor shift in expression, but only for a second before he turned back to vindictiveness. That’s, like, the first time you’ve touched me all day. Ryan pursed his lips and then self-consciously looked at the placement of his hand, not sure whether this was a good or bad observation. He settled on 'neutral' and kept his hand there, 'cause at least this way he'd know in some advance if Brendon was just going to push past him and ignore his efforts. But, in all fairness, Brendon was right. He really hadn't paid him much mind all day except for maybe the morning when they'd woken up by each other - though the routine of a few minutes or more of exchanged greetings and affection, their usual choice of an hour or so wasted laying around in bed lazily kissing or just tangled together otherwise made brief by the time limitation of a tour, was not sufficient for Brendon's needs at all. Hell, it wasn't even enough for Ryan. He was just better at not thinking about it when he was focused on a multitude of other things anyway, which had been the case all day.

I wish I could say the same. Fair, given his last point, and Ryan guiltily followed his gaze downward before he took his hand away, partially scared off by Brendon's glance. Anyway, no matter the situation, Ryan tended to make it very difficult to forgive him after making it very easy to get upset with him. It was uniquely frustrating even for Ryan himself; it definitely didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong until moments ago, and now suddenly he had a lot of mistakes to undo in a very small amount of time unless he was willing to let Brendon walk out. It’s not seems like, Ryan. That part he still disagreed with. Ryan set his jaw, carefully trying to keep from speaking. You were. It was hard to ignore someone when you weren't intentionally doing so or actively thinking about them in the first place, but saying he 'hadn't even thought about Brendon enough to have ignored him' sounded potentially even worse. So Ryan just nodded in complacency, unsure how to meet him in the middle here.

The more his apology went on the less confident he felt about it, like maybe Brendon would just cut him off in the middle. He honestly couldn't read the air for once. When he'd finished, though, Brendon moved a little closer, raising his chin to look at Ryan somewhat defiantly. Are you sure? If I stay, I probably won’t be able to keep my mouth shut long enough to prevent myself from continuing to talk about the grudge I’ll still be holding. Ryan's gaze flickered over him, hesitant, and wondered exactly what he wanted Ryan to even say to that - 'sure, I'll suck it up and listen'? Tell him to just go if he was going to act that way? Ryan wore a hint of apprehension in his expression when he simply nodded again, movements short and stunted with uncertainty. "Very sure. I'll hear you out," he said, one corner of his mouth lifting up not with amusement this time but with reverence.

After a pause, he was slightly more confident in the possibility that Brendon wasn't just going to bolt. Maybe the silence was because he was overstaying his welcome in here - well, he wasn't even welcome in the first place, but he definitely stayed too long after it became apparent that Brendon was both not pleased to see him/not angry enough with him to kick him out altogether. You know, I’ll hold you to that. I’m gonna shower. Ryan stared at him, watching him move back, and it took a second to click in that the look thrown to the door was a direction. Ryan once again lived in his thoughts for a few moments, recalling all the times Brendon had tried to convince him to join him in the shower, and he'd vehemently denied it on the basis of him being entirely too insecure in both his physical person and his ability to stay standing in a tiny slippery room with another person in it. Especially Brendon. It wasn't a very... attractive situation in his eyes, but evidently Brendon thought otherwise.

"Okay," he said suddenly, his voice a little more chipper. "I'll join you, then." Ryan was lucky that he was perpetually wearing three million layers, because he promptly shrugged off the jacket he'd been working on earlier and didn't have to deal with the consequence of being without anything to cover his upper half so soon after. Brendon was really the only one out of the two of them who could work that kind of image. "If that's alright with you, I mean. I won't if you're mad." Ryan set his jacket on the counter to the side but didn't move his hand from atop the fabric, like he was waiting for a rejection before he let it go entirely.

Brendon really was used to different levels of attention and affection that what he was (or rather, wasn’t) subjected to that day. In the morning, when they had both got out of bed without a word, Brendon kind of silently asking Ryan where his kiss was, and his mind wandered to fond memories of regular mornings, where they would either wake up hours before they had to do anything and fill the time very creatively (more often than not in the same way), or they woke up late and stayed in bed anyway because nothing really mattered in their own little world, either under sheets and tangled together or just lying side by side when it was too hot to get closer but they still wanted to be close. Both were perfectly happy sitting in silence with eachother if the occasion called- because Brendon knew all he had to do was lean over slightly and Ryan would mostly catch on and kiss him. It was simply, really— all he asked for was a little appreciation, and though he couldn’t deny that usually Ryan was sufficiently doting, on days like this when he barely acknowledged Brendon, he perhaps took it too seriously.

They were on tour, yes, but in the past, that had changed nothing. Every time the two of them became more efficient at making the most of their short periods of alone time together, but as the band grew in popularity and attention, the amount of shows increased and free time dwindled. Even when there was moments to catch their breath, other people tended to be present. All that considered, maybe he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about Ryan’s actions- but Brendon was impulsive, made accusations before he thought them through, and was very easily touch starved. He was kind of strange in that there were hundreds of people practically screaming his name and it didn’t really matter because there was only one person he really wanted that from. And that was an example of how his mind drifted completely off topic sometimes even during a show, drowning in multicoloured stage lights and sweating his ass off in the same leather pants he wore for every single show for the last two large tours.

So, although he was still pissed, Brendon couldn’t help feel a little better when Ryan pressed his hand against his chest- luckily he tended to be a good actor and managed to look like he was tolerating it, but he was unimpressed. Instead of telling him to go away like he told himself he wanted to, he went on a tangent about something that was so long-winded by the end he couldn’t even remember what he was talking about in the first place. His kind, again, was elsewhere. Very sure. I’ll hear you out. That response was the last thing he ever expected- in fact, he had braced himself to just get a ‘fine, go then’, but apparently Ryan really did want him to stay and Brendon, again, felt himself soften a little because he wasn’t built or meant for picking fights. Brendon, though fiery, was passionate in that he was chiefly a lover, barely a fighter. ”Sweet.”

Still, he had the upper hand and he didn’t just want to forgive and forget immediately, so when Ryan tried the suggestive route (that sounded suspiciously like a business transaction but Brendon didn’t much care if it meant he got what he wanted), he hesitated and forced himself not to jump to the proposal right away. Inhaling and exhaling, he forced himself to look away from Ryan (he was so damn pretty, his hair was getting longer again and his eyes made Brendon weak, he was a hard man to resist) and turned towards the shower with painfully obvious reluctance. There were a million things he’d rather be doing and all involved Ryan- Okay, one thing, and it was Ryan. ”Yeah, uh. Sweating like hell. It’s these damn pants,” He said absently, reaching down to start unbuckling his belt while looking pointedly from Ryan, to the door, back to Ryan.

Okay. He said that, but Brendon didn’t see any movement. He slipped his belt off and dropped it on the floor, before crossing his arms loosely across his chest and raising an expectant eyebrow. I’ll join you, then. Brendon’s eyes widened immediately because that was the last thing he expected even when Ryan promised he’d make up for everything Brendon said he’d done- but he wasn’t about to complain, just watched, a little dumbfounded, as Ryan shrugged off his jacket. Awfully bold of him to assume that Brendon would survive such an experience. He felt himself heating up again and his arms dropped to hang at his sides, his hands almost itching. ”I-“ If that's alright with you, I mean. I won't if you're mad. Of course it was alright with him, he’d been trying to convince Ryan to shower with him for forever. Ryan’s past adamant refusal meant he kind of expected Ryan to back out pretty quickly, so he jumped on the opportunity before the window closed.

”You sure?” He asked finally, stepping close again, running a hand through his hair, aware again of their height difference but this time it made his breath shorten. It was a mystery as to why Ryan was always labelled the easy one out of the two of them- Brendon was just perpetually weak. ”We can just wait til after I shower, and-“ It hit him suddenly that he was still kind of annoyed and the petty part of him told him to refuse because it was only a method to try and butter up to him, not sudden newfound enthusiasm. Pausing, Brendon reached down to the zipper of his jeans, taking his attention away from Ryan and letting his husband decide what he wanted to do. He came very close to just telling Ryan to go away.

Brendon was an excellent actor, but some of his habits Ryan was far too used to to overlook. For example, the way he acted whenever Ryan had some unexplainably powerful effect over him - he had to look away reluctantly, something in his face that just bordered on non-neutrality when he was trying to hide his fondness. Ryan had no idea where it came from this time, because he really hadn’t done much thus far other than accidentally hurt his feelings right after making him feel neglected all day, but he tilted his head interestedly nonetheless when he detected the most subtle signals from Brendon that something had changed. Maybe they were a little more equal than he thought on how easy they were. Ryan had always assumed he was the only one who tended to be unable to even look at Brendon when he wanted to stay upset with him or level on some serious subject - otherwise he’d veer away from the topic and just start thinking about how he looked, how he moved, how there was totally no point in being angry with someone so objectively perfect... it wasn’t necessarily healthy but he’d been working on the issue, so. In any case his Brendon favoritism, so to speak, had kind of not gone away at all, and he’d already succumbed to it moments ago; now he had to wait for the same to be returned it seemed.

Whatever he could do to emphasize his effect, Ryan would try at. He straightened a little, squared his shoulders, stood at an angle where his hips jutted before the rest of him sharply - all under the guise of him adjusting his stance. There. Maybe a confident countenance had something to do with it. Yeah, uh. Sweating like hell. It’s these damn pants. Ryan looked confused, wondering what exactly the relevance was, there, and then promptly turned to looking stupefied while Brendon began preparing to remove said pants. His pointed glance at the door was kind of funny considering he had no issue undressing fully with no prior warning onstage and now he had to give Ryan a moment’s notice - anyway. Ryan’s mouth was already dry from even the slightest suggestive notion from Brendon, which appeared to be completely unintentional and wasn’t even accompanied by very flattering words. They were probably even, then. Ryan hurried up and tried to secure his place in staying here to join Brendon, otherwise his pissed off mood would just live on a little longer and Ryan would be exponentially less likely to make up for his mistakes. He worried that the more Brendon dwelled on how dumb and often inconsiderate his husband was, he may just change his mind in staying again. And then the bad blood would be there the next morning. Probably dramatic speculation, but, Ryan had plenty reason to be careful.

Ryan quickly made his offer as soon as Brendon’s belt clattered on the floor, hurried to avoid the temptation to drop his gaze and hold it at Brendon’s waist. Brendon appeared a little swayed by the idea, his posture loosening, and Ryan’s expression turned less dumbly lustful to more relieved and hopeful. You sure? He nodded, rushed, and welcomed Brendon moving closer with a gentle hand at his waist. ”I’m sure,” he said seriously, his other hand tentatively curling around Brendon to splay against the small of his back. It was like a goddamn surgical procedure, how careful he was being. We can just wait til after I shower, and- And what? Ryan quickly tried to close the silence, knowing some gear in his head must’ve set in motion. ”No, I’m sure. Just, you believe me, right? I was never being an asshole on purpose. I really am sorry, baby.” Still not sure whether Brendon would, like, duck away to dodge a real kiss or not, Ryan painstakingly placed a kiss on his forehead, apologetic. ”And I think I prefer my days mostly revolving around you like they usually do. Life’s kinda lackluster otherwise.” It was honesty but he wasn’t really sure how vulnerable and corny he wanted to be, so Ryan let laughter touch his voice somewhat, taking the edge off.

His grin lasted a second at most before his eyes dropped to follow Brendon’s hand, landing on his zipper and apparently waiting for something. Ryan sucked in a rough breath, trying not to overreact for once ‘cause they were married for fuck’s sake, anyone else would be unfazed by most anything their partner had to offer at this point. They were both kinda ridiculous that way. Definitely unsure of himself but adamant to hide it, Ryan let the hand at Brendon’s waist drift over, landing instead on top of the hand Brendon held by his zipper as if he was going to help the process along himself. He hooked a finger in Brendon’s waistband, using the vantage point to pull him closer. ”Like I said- I won’t, if you’re mad. Still feel like I’m ignoring you?” He definitely wasn’t laughing anymore, looking dead serious about his inquiry as if it wasn’t relatively easy to guess where they both stood now. Anyway, Ryan tried to never rely on Brendon being predictable.

Situations like this usually followed a set pattern- Brendon tended to initiate (he was the more forward out of the two of them), Ryan tended to seem hesitant but actually probably be the more eager out of the two of them (just with less driving force), and more often than not it ended up in bed and they slept in, because nothing else particularly mattered when they were together. This, though, was different; they were both kind of navigating troubled waters, Brendon pissed but simultaneously attention and touch starved, Ryan adamantly sticking to his own side but desperately wanting the pettiness and bitterness to be over so they could go back to normal them. Just minutes ago, Brendon had been legitimately hurt and angry enough that he wanted to switch rooms and couldn’t stand the thought of having to remain in the same room for an entire evening, night and morning. Now, he was considering leaving more for making a statement and to prevent a repeat situation on future shows. Ryan had also been uncooperative until now, and was probably the more motivated out of the two of them to reconciliate.

It would have been pretty easy- apologies, a kiss like Brendon wanted- but unfortunately he didn’t like finding the easy way out of things and, being just a little melodramatic, he seemed to be subconsciously drawing it out into more than it had to be. Not that he hadn’t overreacted in the first place anyway. Anyhow, it was apparent that Brendon wasn’t about to just drop it- but likely confusingly for Ryan, he changed topics, talking about how sweaty he was for some reason. Attractive. But it was all for a reason; he then reached down casually to unbuckle and remove his belt, letting it clatter to the floor in the tense silence. Ryan looked a little shellshocked and it was Brendon’s turn to try and suppress a grin- he was about to make some excuse about wanting to cool down and then shower, but honestly he was pretty sure he’d just get hotter because his temperate was already rising from the way Ryan was looking at him.

This was all he had wanted. This kind of attention on stage, this kind of reaction when he took off his shirt- Sure, it was an old trick (Brendon could take off his own shirt amazingly quickly), but he wished Ryan was still as affected by it as when he first started doing it. Alas, even Ryan, whom Brendon thought to be pretty easy, could grow to not be phased by such a sight. If he tried to think it through, he’d probably understand, but Brendon wasn’t patient enough to give opposing views the time of day even in his head and continued to be bitter about it. Brendon moved a hand down to his zipper just as Ryan stepped closer and drifted a hand to his waist. Feeling his chest tighten at the contact he had been missing all day, he flashed a smile and them remembered he was supposed to be angry. I’m sure. Another hands against his back, and Brendon tried to straighten, having noticed that suddenly Ryan was standing much more confidently, hips hitting forward, even if every touch was fraught with obvious apprehension, like he was afraid of setting Brendon off again.

No, I’m sure. Just, you believe me, right? I was never being an asshole on purpose. I really am sorry, baby. Admittedly, he was pleasantly surprised but still doubtful that Ryan actually would go along with what he was so shortsightedly promising. Every time he’d asked, he’d said something like I’d slip and die (understandable) I’d be way too vulnerable (Brendon had seen Ryan sans clothing numerous times before, what was his point) or showers are where you get clean (having two showers isn’t a crime the last time Brendon checked)- so now Ryan had actually suggested it himself you could forgive him for not holding on to too much hope even so. ”Yeah, I know,” He said kind of reluctantly, because it wasn’t like his bitterness had just dissipated into thin air. ”I know you wouldn’t and I know you are.” Ryan leaned in to kiss his forehead and Brendon closed his eyes briefly, savouring it and staying silent only to keep the facade of being annoyed beyond reconciliation alive.

And I think I prefer my days mostly revolving around you like they usually do. Life’s kinda lackluster otherwise. ”I’d say stop kissing my ass, but actually, keep talking.” He replied, raising an eyebrow, about to speak again when suddenly Ryan’s hand was down at his zipper and he had hooked a finger in Brendon’s waistband, drawing him closer, and Brendon was again finding it tremendously difficult to stay actually angry. Like I said- I won’t, if you’re mad. Of course he didn’t, but he planned on milking ‘striving for forgiveness in any way’ Ryan as much as possible. ”And I’m defintrly not getting ignored, but you know what would make He absolutely positive?” Brendon tilted his head and leaned in, speaking close to his ear in a hushed but lax tone of voice, speaking with rather flowering detail before moving back and pulling the zip down, stepping away.

”That would be ideal. But, I feel like I’m still kind of bitter. I’ll talk to you after my shower, Ry.” He said, almost casually, not bothering to stop himself from grinning smugly. He then whirled around and did step out of his jeans, expecting Ryan to still be there when he turned around because although he sounded serious, he was joking. Brendon thought he knew that.

Ryan just barely caught sight of a smile flashing across Brendon's face before he appeared to- what, convince himself he was supposed to be irritated with Ryan again? Funny. They were on the same page, then. For the umpteenth time Ryan mentally shook his head in exasperation at the two of them. Was it healthy or not to be unable to keep up an angry facade at whoever you were with? On one hand their fights never lasted very long, as they either forgot what they were upset about in the first place, or were fed up with not being able to talk to each other and therefore were forced to reconcile. On the other, a lot of things didn't really get solved all the way through or in the most mature manner. Either way they could definitely have much worse problems than this. Yeah, I know. Ryan figured that was the honest response but hadn't expected Brendon to jump to it first and foremost (as opposed to dragging out his indignance as long as he could get away with). Suppose it was his lucky day, then; Brendon being cooperative was a rarity in itself.

Despite the relatively obvious apprehension in Brendon's voice in admitting that, he continued to reassure Ryan. I know you wouldn’t and I know you are. Thank god, but he still didn't seem totally responsive or welcoming to any of Ryan's approaches - not like that was a really strange occurrence, though. Even normally, Ryan was always the most easily charmed (or maybe it was just that Brendon was far more charming, but still); if Brendon so much as looked his way he was usually very quickly trying to decide whether the setting was appropriate to spontaneously kiss him, or something. Brendon, while by no means 'controlled' or anything vaguely related to that word, seemed to follow his own whims rather than being affected by Ryan in the moment. It usually depended on the day, though. Whatever the case, he appreciated the change in pace, smiling in validation at Brendon's answer.

He hadn't fixed the situation, though, because clearly Brendon was still hung up on him being over three yards away all day, so Ryan continued to lay on his own efforts at charm. Not impressive, and it sounded like their version of how he might've sucked up to teachers in school, but apparently it half-worked. He already knew flattery worked fairly well with Brendon anyway, if done semi-believably (and Ryan didn't even half to lie to him, luckily). I’d say stop kissing my ass, but actually, keep talking. He laughed a little, humouring Brendon mostly. "I don't think just speaking my mind counts as kissing your ass, but sure," he mused, lifting one shoulder nonchalantly to qualify his words. It was true. He definitely did prefer 'wasting his time' if it meant he'd see more of Brendon. Besides, his issues with focusing and anxiety was all personal; it was stuff he could deal with outside of touring, outside of actual working hours. He'd tried before - in the early days he took those lessons to make up for being barely out of high school in competition with professional artists, for one thing - he could just do it again if the results would be both him getting more time with his favorite person and Brendon not feeling the same neglect again.

And I’m definitely not getting ignored, but you know what would make me absolutely positive? Ryan didn't really expect much, just maintained his little smirk and half-confident expression as he dipped down to hear Brendon. The more that he heard, though, the less composed he was, his previously comfortable hold on Brendon's waistband turning strained and his expression dropping. So maybe he was sort of caught off guard and Brendon was an evil little shit. In any case, Ryan was now stuck with a variety of images floating through his head and had lost about ten shades of color by the time Brendon pulled away. Ryan dropped his hands and took them back to himself as Brendon moved, the sound of his zipper interrupting the thick quiet - and he was calm as hell. Ryan decided, ultimately, that he was never going to have the upper hand ever in his life. Clearly he'd married someone who was out for blood, didn't care how weak Ryan was.

That would be ideal. But, I feel like I’m still kind of bitter. Ryan blinked, somewhat confused, not quite having registered that. Or maybe he did and it just didn't make any fucking sense. Really, he was the source of all Ryan's sexual frustration ever and now Ryan wondered who the hell raised him, 'cause it certainly wasn't any innocent middle-of-suburbia Mormon family. I’ll talk to you after my shower, Ry. "You're dead to me," he said very seriously, immediately, to Brendon's smug expression, although in the back of his mind he knew he was still sort of bantering behind all of his very real exasperation. Still not moving despite this, Ryan watched him turn and finally rid himself of his jeans to match the loss of his shirt. Well, not really. As soon as it looked like they were coming off Ryan turned his gaze to the ceiling to avoid his inevitable complete loss of character, throwing his arms out at his sides to convey his irritation. Mostly with himself, actually, for being so easily affected.

"All right," he said, truly resignedly, as if he believed Brendon was genuinely pissed at him still. Truthfully he just didn't want to deal anymore, 'cause Brendon was adorably difficult. 'Twas a very unique skill set, to say the least. "What were you saying about 'a new roommate' earlier... I might go see if Spencer's open to me hanging around." Ryan looked like he was acting out a comedy, all faked seriousness in his voice, approaching the door reluctantly while he took strains avoiding looking at Brendon - he'd just start acting lovedumb again, probably.

Serious fights between Brendon and Ryan were, thankfully, rare- though they had their fairly frequent minor disagreements and they bickered pretty often, actual, serious fights involving more intense negative emotion (usually anger, because Brendon’s emotions tended to all re-route towards an aggressive attitude when he was stressed) were few and far between. Those that did occur usually did so because Brendon wasn’t a very good listener, and when Ryan did try and talk to him about something important, maybe, he just tuned out or interrupted or changed the subject mid-conversation against Ryan’s will. Part of this was his adhd, but he was also sometimes slightly self-important- what could Ryan have to say that was more useful an input than what he had said himself? This was undoubtedly an unhealthy way to think about his significant other, but thankfully he had enough of a filter to prevent saying anything completely stupid. He valued Ryan’s opinion, really, obviously. He was sometimes just dismissive.

When they did fight, it was usually relatively intense but very brief, because they burned themselves out quickly and neither of them could bring themselves to stay mad at the other no matter what they’d done. This was a blessing and a curse- the blessing was obviously that fights were over fast, because at all times both of them would rather be just curled up together rather than being petty and stooping low; the curse was that they often didn’t find solutions to disputes they had in the first place, so the same fights kept happening or that underlying tension remained. In this instance, Brendon’s anger and Ryan’s irritation had been thrown off course by one thing- how weak and useless they were, for eachother. It didn’t help with being infuriated with someone when that particular someone was so damn pretty and that was the only coherent thought he could conjure while facing Ryan. The majority of his bitterness kind of just faded away, but he kept up a facade in an attempt to prove his point.

But now Ryan was being sweet, and actually apologising, something Brendon found it very hard to do. It was no admittance of wrong-doing, and Brendon could sense that Ryan didn’t really think he’d done anything wrong, but it was good enough for Brendon, really, especially when he had new, more interesting things on his mind. I don’t think just speaking my mind counts as kissing your ass, but sure. Brendon scoffed. Ryan wouldn’t be saying those things right now if it wasn’t for a purpose, and that purpose was to reconcile with Brendon; not exactly ill intent, but he still thought it qualified as sucking up to an extent. Brendon rewinded then, asking himself why it actually mattered. Ryan had apologised and wasn’t, like, yelling at him, so he supposed he should be thankful and just accept it.

And he did. Brendon was now occupied by a new goal, one he usually achieved- working Ryan up beyond settling down again, using his constant upper hand to make his husband (someone that should probably be used to it all by now) weak because Brendon was kind of evil and apparently enjoyed being the root of all of Ryan’s sexual frustration and confusion, all the way from Ilvermorny to now, when they’d known eachother over half their lives and been in a relationship for the majority of that time. He knew exactly how to do it, to get him flustered, so Brendon wasted no time and brought Ryan in while leaning up to speak closer to his ear. He was, when he wanted to be, a very colourful speaker, and in this instance, his attention to detail was evidently what was making Ryan go pale. When he moved back, he almost leaned in to kiss him. Almost. Brendon was displaying enormous amounts of willpower considering it was what he had been yearning for all day.

Brendon moved back as Ryan’s hands dropped away, and he finally lost his pants, all the while executing the second part of his plan and turning Ryan’s offer away now that he was clearly more inclined to agree than usual. You’re dead to me. He grinned, stepping out of his trouser legs and stepping a little closer again as Ryan looked skywards and threw his arms out in exasperation. ”I’m sure you can wait for like, twenty minutes.” Brendon’s eyebrows rose, but he was smirking. All right. What? Ryan was supposed to argue, to be a little more enthusiastic than just resigning to his alleged fate. Brendon looking a little caught off guard. What were you saying about 'a new roommate' earlier... I might go see if Spencer's open to me hanging around. Eyes widening, he quickly shook his head, following Ryan to the door and reaching behind him to hold on to the handle tightly. He wasn’t very strong, and kind of small, so if Ryan wanted to leave, he would be able to- but hopefully the gesture was strong enough.

”I was joking,” He exclaimed, moving close again. ”Stay.” His voice was a little rougher, now, like he had more to say. Brendon was unwilling to pass up what had been offered to him, and hung on to Ryan’s shirt, before kind of manoeuvring around so his back was facing the door and Ryan was facing him. Using a free hand he locked it, then came to rest leaning against it, head tilted up slightly and lips parted because he wanted Ryan to take a hint for once in his life. ”C’mon, I’ll make it worth it.”

I’m sure you can wait for like, twenty minutes. Frustrated (although he knew full well this was really nothing serious or anything to get worked up about), Ryan wasn't sure who was more stupid, him or Brendon. Him because he actually thought trying to reconcile with Brendon would work or maybe he could get him to forget all about what he'd been upset over; Brendon because he'd even gotten upset, because he was like this. Anyway. Ryan was fairly used to his argumentative behavior and how frustrating he could be in general if he wanted to be. That didn't mean it got any easier to deal with, and Ryan's usually substantial amount of patience was already short. He just started to give in, then, and it looked like Brendon hadn't expected that whatsoever. Decidedly, that approach was the best one to take under these circumstances.

The little smirk on Brendon's face disappeared, and Ryan, who'd entered the conversation confused and cornered, felt a weird sense of triumph. Definitely not appropriate when you had apparently taken your partner's mood down fifty percent, but. They weren't always a totally dynamic couple anyway. After alluding to his escape to Spencer's room - which, by then, was a real consideration in the back of his mind - Ryan turned away to leave and give Brendon his much-desired space, only to be stopped by his hand reaching round to keep the door shut. Ryan analyzed the situation and in a second came to the conclusion that that was totally ineffective in stopping him, but he humoured Brendon anyway, turning slightly so only his profile was visible. Maybe it wasn't too late for Brendon to give up on his whole charade, if it'd ever been a real concern of his that he wasn't being paid enough attention to in the first place; Ryan still wasn't really sure whether Brendon could really get worked up over that. Even if he was, Ryan was enamoured enough to think it was kind of sweet, anyway.

Pretending he didn't, though, was easy, so Ryan put on a show that he'd run out of patience, eyes hooded cynically. I was joking. "Some joke," he murmured, setting his jaw as Brendon moved closer. Distantly he considered how collectively vengeful they were for people so in love, 'cause now all he could think about was how they'd gotten even, and it was maybe a little funny, mostly screwed. Didn't really matter. He'd already decided he was kinda over the initial argument regardless. Stay. Brendon sounded so withholding that Ryan almost felt bad for letting it get this far, turning it around on him just to put them on equal ground. He faced the door again, tilting his head down when he registered the grip Brendon had on his shirt. After a moment they were facing each other, Brendon's back to the door like a human barrier now, and Ryan lifted his head again at the sound of the door's lock clicking into place.

C'mon, I’ll make it worth it. Ryan too obviously suppressed a smile, his gaze flicking briefly over Brendon's parted lips. Of course he was playing his angles again - Ryan always fell for it no matter what. He was totally aware of it, too, just didn't really care; he'd been ready to kiss and make up since, ironically, he'd laughed over Brendon throwing his supposed 'tantrum' over wanting to be kissed. "Oh, really?" he asked nonchalantly, clearly not very present in the conversation anymore while he traced a line along Brendon's bare shoulder. "I'm staying. Obviously. But you should still make it worth it." Ryan pressed a hand lightly against Brendon's chest, almost-barely pinning him to the door he was so assuredly guarding, and dipped his head to kiss him for several beats. In a recuperating breath, he decided he was still feeling rather antagonistic. "You probably know this, babe, but you're so extra."

Ryan was grinning, though, already looping his arms around Brendon and linking his hands at the small of his back, lifting him away from the door and closer to himself. He swayed them a little, studying Brendon for a moment. "Hey. Next time, if I'm stupid enough for there to be a next time, please don't throw yourself off stage. That's the worst. I like you without a TBI."