Brendon certainly wasn’t used to Ryan coming home drunk- it was never a situation he imagined happening, or thought he had to prepare for, because Ryan was kind of alcohol-phobic and barely touched it unless a social event occurred where it was obliged. Even then, Brendon knew he consumed it very sparingly before losing his nerve with the stuff and stopping. It wasn’t like he didn’t like it, Brendon knew that, because he had seen Ryan enjoy it before- in fact, Brendon was almost positive that these days the abstinence of drinking was due to some kind of guilt, like he felt he owed Brendon that, or he couldn’t for fear of upsetting him. Maybe Brendon was kind of cynical that way, thinking it revolved around him- Ryan unfortunately had plenty more history involving alcohol and alcoholics in his past- but on the very rare occasion he did drink, and Brendon was present, he always caught careful glances his way, almost like he was scared to get caught with a drink in his hand. Brendon appreciated the thought but wanted to tell him that by doing that he made the sense of alienation even worse, and subconsciously heightened his own sense of anxiety around drinking. It wasn’t too bad, though, so he just kind of ignored it.

Ryan’s 21st, though, was not only revolved around drinking (legally, at least), but it was an event where Brendon was notably absent and Ryan didn’t feel as pressured to maybe hang on for his boyfriend’s sake. Brendon was glad, at the time, but also didn’t know what to expect- he knew Ryan would be drinking (Gabe and Holden would most likely see to that), but not how much. If he knew Ryan it wouldn’t be that much, but apparently he was wrong- when Ryan got back to their apartment after hightailing from his own party and flying to a different state at 2am, he was greeted by a Ryan he wasn’t used to. His boyfriend was tipsy, and that was enough for Brendon- he didn’t need, or want, to ask exactly what he’d drank, because there was a startling pang of envy upon seeing the pictures from the party and then Ryan himself, and a sense of longing when he could still detect the faint taste of whiskey when he and Ryan kissed. More than anything, though, Brendon thought it was funny, and knew from the moment Ryan got home that he’d be laughing at it him tomorrow when he was nursing a hangover.

After a couple of hours, at around 4am, Brendon managed to convince an overly touchy and very affectionate Ryan to go to sleep, promising he’d be minutes behind. Brendon brushed his teeth and got undressed and then collapsed next to him, realising after only a moment of holding his breath to listen, Ryan had passed out. Too hot to actually climb under any blankets, throughout the night all of them had been systematically stolen by his apparently cold, sleeping boyfriend, and in the morning when Brendon woke up at around 11am, Ryan was covered by a mountain of blankets. The sun was, regrettably, piercing through the cracks in the blinds by now, and Brendon shielded his eyes slightly as he sat up, covered with a sheen of sweat, his hair springing up comically. Squinting, he looked over at the pile of blankets where his boyfriend was presumably sound asleep, then eased himself off the bed, heading straight into the bathroom to shower quickly so he at least looked awake.

Fifteen minutes later and he was showered, fully dressed, and had made himself some toast (how capable of him) that he was eating as he walked back into the bedroom. He was just in time to catch a movement under the blankets and grinned, moving around to his own side of the bed to place his plate down, then climbing back on, prodding Ryan hard. ”Sleeping beauty?” He said in a sing-song voice, settling back and shaking his head. ”Is someone hungover?” He tried after a pause, tugging at a few blankets and pulling them away with only faint protest from Ryan until he could actually make him out. ”Damn, rough night?” Brendon couldn’t help but laugh as he threw the few blankets that Ryan wasn’t clutching onto off the side of the bed, and prodded him again, apparently to no avail. Not willing to give up, he climbed over Ryan with complete lack of courtesy to go and open the blinds, letting the sunlight stream in. All he got from that was a groan of protest.

”This feels like an emotional episode of, like, an alcoholic recovery show, or something.” He commented, moving back over and actually fully straddling Ryan, a knee on either side of his torso. Ryan’s face was partially obscured by remaining blankets, and Brendon laughed again, leaning forward over him to kiss his cheekbone and then moving aside, shaking his head. ”Though he seems to be trapped in both bed and denial, Ryan’s eventually going to have to face facts... He’s relapsed, and his boyfriend won’t be happy.” At least he found himself funny. Brendon stood up again, rolling his shoulders back. ”Wake up, asshole.”

Aside from no one else expecting it, Ryan himself never, ever planned on drinking, even casually. It was an overdone topic, really, one that he always told himself to get over when it popped into mind, but his childhood mixed in with Brendon's personal traumas all made him stray from the substance altogether. Drugs or cigarettes, sure, he'd comfortably dabbled, funnily enough. Alcohol, however, was off-limits. Sometimes he let his guard down just to avoid either pitying looks or otherwise judgmental ones - those who knew him better would always feel sorry for him when they saw him sipping at anything, as if he couldn't see or something, and then those who didn't know him at all thought he was the wet blanket asshole drinking, like, Gatorade at a party. It was hard to not come outright with 'I'm not pretentious, it's just that my dad has cirrhosis,' or something to that tune. Generally, though, Ryan strayed away from explaining himself. At this point the only person who knew his situation to a T was Brendon, and Brendon never criticized.

In fact, Brendon was shockingly supportive of any and all decisions he ever made, for someone who'd had his own struggles. When Ryan eventually did start warming up to social drinking, Brendon remained a comfortable bystander, not even giving in to what was probably a trigger (and thusly very inconsiderate of Ryan, but he was also sick of acting like any little thing would set Brendon off; he had way more faith in him, really). Then, when his 21st rolled around, Brendon made no mention of what turning that age entailed outside of passing jokes or hints at what his party might include. If he was concerned about Ryan's well-being, he kept it to himself thankfully, 'cause God knows Ryan would just take it as being patronizing; if he was upset about not being able to come on account of both his age and his record, he didn't pass it on to Ryan, and as such didn't shame Ryan into staying home. Really, Ryan was really goddamn lucky to have Brendon, and it became even more apparent around this birthday in particular.

Anyway. It was a little weird. Ryan wasn't used to liquor, although he'd managed beer and wine before. Ironically he'd settled for his dad's favorite, and that, too, he expected might upset him - but oddly enough, it didn't. Sometimes his thoughts strayed to what his dad might be going through that very moment in Vegas, or to the one percent chance that Brendon might be set back a few years by Ryan welcoming irresponsibility in a whole other state... for the former it was such an old, done-to-death topic that he quickly brushed it aside, and for the latter, well. Ryan wasn't stupid. He knew Brendon was fine, had been when he left Seattle and apparently still was, if the content of his texts meant anything. All of that aside, Ryan was coming to his own unbiased conclusions about alcohol, which were mainly that it tasted like shit and he didn't like not being able to stand straight. Shocker that the control-freak was opposed to those side effects.

Despite this, when he flew back Ryan stocked up even more on the flight, going from tipsy to flat-out drunk thousands of feet in the air, and ended up somewhere inbetween those two states of being whilst on the comedown to his house. So he arrived at home semi-drunk. He was, unfortunately, probably not going to fully remember Brendon being his keeper, sort of laughing at how ridiculous he was while setting him away to bed (though not after they showered one another with welcome-home type kisses and compliments). He was also probably not going to remember instantly falling asleep once Brendon actually did coax him into bed, but that's exacty what happened. Instantly. Evidently, Ryan was the sort of drinker to just get a little goofier and much sleepier. Luckily it seemed like he didn't subject any of their other friends to that behavior for very long... although they'd probably have words for him once they collectively found out the birthday boy had gone missing.

Ryan didn't wake up at eleven when Brendon did, nor did he wake up when Brendon went through a typical morning routine. At some point he heard the door to the bedroom reopen, though, and shifted a little, conscious of something happening but fully feeling the payback from last night. If he'd just had water, none of the protests his body was making would be happening, but as it were he was dehydrated as hell and his head was pure pressure. Ryan felt the mattress dip beside him just before something pressed into his blanket coccoon. Sleeping beauty? Ryan made the most low-effort 'hm' sound he could in response. Is someone hungover? "Go away," Ryan mumbled, muffled against the fabric surrounding him, and hugged it all closer while Brendon tried to dismantle his fortress. Somehow he wasn't warm enough but still burning hot - so, decidedly, blankets were still necessary.

Damn, rough night? Since some light had reached him and he could make out some of Brendon, Ryan glared at him for a second before squeezing his eyes shut again, desperate to sleep even though he wasn't tired at all. Overtired, as a matter of fact, as if he'd slept too long. He successfully ignored Brendon's annoying prodding but couldn't escape Brendon straight-up climbing over him to get to the window, nor could he avoid the assault of sunlight that immediately followed. Ryan groaned, rolling onto his back. "I thought you loved me," he said sorrowfully, pulling a sheet away from his mouth and squinting at the ceiling. His eyes gradually adjusted, and he started to slowly wriggle, just loosening himself from the mummification of the covers.

This feels like an emotional episode of, like, an alcoholic recovery show, osomething. "Shut up. Your mom's an emo-" Ryan started to fight against Brendon when he returned, climbing onto him again. He pressed a hand to his chest and pushed, only admitting defeat when it appeared that Brendon was only giving him a kiss. Ryan relaxed somewhat, stilling beneath him and letting his eyes slip shut as Brendon planted a kiss to his cheekbone. Though he seems to be trapped in both bed and denial, Ryan’s eventually going to have to face facts... He’s relapsed, and his boyfriend won’t be happy. Ryan waved an arm in an effort to hit him, missing by at least a mile. "Idiot." If he had the nerve he'd probably throw Brendon's words right back at him, but he very much did not. Wake up, asshole. "I'm awake, thanks to you. My head fucking kills. Do we have aspirin? Or running water?" He glanced to his side, catching a piece of Brendon's toast and holding it above his face, considering it. Nope. Definitely not hungry. He chucked it at Brendon instead.

It was a role reversal, in some way, but usually on nights where Brendon had been drinking heavily (even more so than usual), Ryan didn’t possess the patience to be civil, and though he had nearly always tried to be, Brendon could feel the tension even when intoxicated- he felt like Ryan had so many ruthless things to say about it but was holding them all back, because what good would passive aggression or in that case straight-up aggression even do? Brendon was glad that was how it was, because he already felt near-constant, agonising guilt pulling at his insides. He was getting better, because he no longer really had access to alcohol (if he really wanted to, he could, quite easily, but not without ruining his progress and dismantling the trust and faith Ryan had in him), but whenever he thought about it still he sometimes felt that painful mix of desperation and disgust, because he was supposed to be stronger than this. Ryan told him he was strong anyway- he was in slow but more or less steady recovery, and his boyfriend said that’s all he could ask for from Brendon.

That aside, it was interesting to see Ryan in a similar predicament that Brendon found himself in most mornings for the past three years, and watching the pile of sentient blankets shift about, he wondered what his approach should be. Ryan was usually as sympathetic as he could be, getting him water and aspirin and keeping the blinds shut, the lights off and the noise down, but for Ryan this wasn’t serious, tiring, or a draining, constant morning habit, it was probably a one-time situation, because when Ryan inevitably said ‘i’m never drinking again’ he would probably mean it. Brendon was envious how easy it would be for him to say and do just that. For Brendon, this situation was funny; though he batted around with the idea of being sympathetic like a loving boyfriend probably should be, or just making fun of him and annoying him until he got up. The latter was obviously the triumphant option, and Brendon wasted no time in tugging at the blankets of Ryan’s pitiful fortress.

Go away. Sitting back, he tutted, still grinning widely. ”That’s not nice. Take it back.” Persistent, he pulled the excess blankets away and dropped them onto the floor unti he made out the form of Ryan, glaring at him. Always irritating, brendon clambered over his suffering boyfriend and once he had opened the curtains, he heard a loud groan and the sound of Ryan moving. I thought you loved me. He rolled his shoulders back in a shrug, turning around and watching with raised eyebrows as Ryan wriggled out of his fortress, so he could actually kind of move his limbs. ”This is how I show my undying love.” Crossing back over to Ryan’s side, he was again unsympathetic, climbing onto him gracelessly and laughing as Ryan tried to fend him off. Shut up. Your mom’s an emo- ”Emo? Yeah, that explains a lot,” He retorted, persisting against Ryan’s hand that was trying to push him away. When he’d finally pacified him, Brendon leaned in to kiss him briefly on the cheekbone and then straightened up, shifting, apparently very comfortable.

Ruining the momentary quiet, he made yet another smart comment about Ryan’s predicament and ducked out of the way to avoid Ryan’s flailing hand, rolling off to the side with a short laugh. Idiot. ”Says the person who drank no water and ate nothing at all last night. Drink responsibly. Trust me, I’m an expert.” He frowned after he said that, thinking that maybe that was the wrong word. I’m awake, thanks to you. ”You’re welcome, baby,” He said immediately, adjusting himself to sit cross-legged atop the crumpled sheets. He surveyed them with a raised eyebrow, and grinned as he said, ”This is reminiscent of other activities.” His plan was apparently ‘get Ryan to kill him before lunchtime’. My head fucking kills. Do we have aspirin? Or running water?

”And whose fault is that, Ryan?” He said mock-seriously, prodding him again casually in the side before looking off towards the door thoughtfully. ”We have aspirin, yeah. You know where it is.” It became clear quickly, when a piece of his toast was hurled in his direction, that wasn’t the answer Ryan was looking for. Luckily, Ryan’s aim was terrible and it didn’t hit brendon, it just landed on the sheets, and Brendon’s eyes widened. Dickhead!” He exclaimed, picking up the toast (butter-side down) from the mattress. ”I have to sleep on this side! Motherfucker. Guess I’m on the couch tonight.”

As annoying as Ryan was finding Brendon to be - which was probably just a result of him being smug about their switched roles - it was at least better than what face Ryan must usually show him when he was the same way. He'd not witnessed it firsthand, of course, but Ryan knew retrospectively how he acted whenever he was upset with or disappointed in Brendon; hell, he acted the same whenever anything vaguely negative happened to him. He put on a blank face, mounted some walls of invulnerability, and showed the rest of the world a quiet tension that he didn't care enough to even try to relax. Needless to say, that was probably rather unsettling to whoever was the cause of his mood or anyone who had to watch otherwise, much less his own boyfriend. It wasn't fair - he understood the extent of Brendon's now mostly controlled addiction and always reminded himself to treat it sensitively even when it arose in a relapse. In practice, though, it was harder to react the way he wanted when he was in the midst of it. More often than not he just got caught between two modes of emotion, either a complete flatline or a struggled attempt at sympathy. To be fair, the more he saw it happen, the easier it was to bring out the kinder side of himself.

It made sense that Brendon didn't have to choose between those two extremes, 'cause Ryan was never like this - and, according to his supreme distaste, he would never be like this again. Maybe. If peer pressure didn't get him first. He just vowed never to spend any time unattended with Gabe or Holden. For now, though, he wanted to be totally alone, and he demanded this of Brendon as soon as he could. That’s not nice. Take it back. The 'shut up' Ryan meant to say just floated around in his pained head, but he managed to convey it somewhat through a glare that pierced Brendon for a full minute. He continued flouncing around, though, making the environment as unbearable for a hungover newly-21-year-old as he could. This is how I show my undying love. "Go fuck yourself," he mumbled, at this point just throwing out whatever insults or taunts that came to mind first. Most of them, like that one, probably warranted some nasty response from Brendon, and he instantly wanted to take it back when he realised the ease with which Brendon could just annoy him right back; at least he gained momentary satisfaction from being mean.

They didn't always work, though, especially when he got cut off by Brendon climbing on top of him, very unfairly. Emo? Yeah, that explains a lot. "Wow, very original, an emo joke. It's too ear-" Ryan squinted at his phone screen after blindly grabbing it off his nightstand. "Well." Ryan succumbed to Brendon's halfhearted display of affection, his disbelief over it not being, like, seven in the morning suspended for the time being. Not only was he awake after Brendon, it was also after eleven in the morning. Fuck. Maybe it was his frustration with himself that made him hurl another snide insult Brendon's way, just short of childish namecalling. Says the person who drank no water and ate nothing at all last night. Drink responsibly. Trust me, I’m an expert. "Suck my dick. You've never had a responsible drink in your life, Blake." He'd probably regret that in, like, five hours. Not just his opting for 'suck my dick' over all other possible comebacks, but also him making fun of what was probably a topic his jokes weren't welcome on. Then again, Brendon kinda started it, and his mean streak was already a mile long anyway.

You’re welcome, baby. Catching sight of Brendon's smartly raised eyebrow, Ryan contained his irritation by setting his jaw tightly, bones stark with definition over his otherwise gentle features for half a second. This is reminiscent of other activities. Ryan groaned again just as he got the last word out, almost in time to cut him off as he'd intended to but not quite. "Yeah, which you won't be participating in, like, ever again. Fucker." Brendon clearly didn't seem to care - nor did he about Ryan's totally serious suffering, either. And whose fault is that, Ryan? Ryan batted at his hand cattily when he prodded him again, overly sensitive. "Gabriel Carrasco's." Pulling a name from a hat, really. They were the most prominent party figure that came to mind, but realistically Gabe wasn't even close to the forefront when the first glass of whiskey landed in his hand. We have aspirin, yeah. You know where it is. Clearly annoyed at what was a lure to get Ryan up and out of his sort-of-comfortable sanctuary of covers, Ryan chucked a slice of Brendon's stupid toast at him, retaliatory. "You get it, asswipe. I'm dying." He finally half understood Brendon's hangover struggle, at least. Although it was more likely that he just wasn't used to the feeling of a very normal, probably less-than-standard hangover.

Dickhead! Despite having been whining at Brendon and berating him ever since he first woke up, Ryan was affronted by this, and he lifted himself up a little, propped up by his elbows folded beneath him. I have to sleep on this side! Motherfucker. Guess I’m on the couch tonight. "You're goddamn right you are! Payback for not caring for your ailing boyfriend. Look at me. I'm close to death, Bren." Ryan collapsed back again, mock-pouting, apparently taking himself less seriously for once. He kept the act up for maybe thirty seconds before finally sitting up all the way, which took a criminally long time to accomplish. Ryan studied the blotch left behind by the toast landing on the sheets, wearing remorse clear on his face. "...my bad. I'll trade my side of the bed for a glass of water." He grinned at Brendon hopefully, faking some cheer for the possibility that Brendon might yield to his act.

Brendon had spent most of his morning scrolling back through the new messages sent to their collective group chat, noting it was mostly Holden and Gabe, with Mitch just using shady emojis and Dallon occasionally checking in, almost concerned from the tone of his texts. Gabe was the most persistent- demanding Ryan’s audience, promising evisceration if Ryan didn’t a) explain himself and b) ‘get back to his awesome party right this second’. Then there was a brief pause after Holden sent a ‘Gabe, come find me’, and a few minutes later Gabe was back and text-yelling in all caps about Ryan being ‘nasty’ and ‘a modern-day judas’. So maybe they were a little melodramatic, but Brendon knew from Holden’s passive shrugging emoji that Ryan had probably told Holden his plan before he left and this information was new to Gabe. Even dallon, usually very patient and used to Ryan and Brendon’s ‘escapades’, was somewhat taken aback by the lengths Ryan went to just to get back to his boyfriend a day earlier.

He desperately wanted to read some of the colourful messages Gabe had sent out to Ryan, but even he figured that was overkill and just glanced mournfully at his phone on his own dresser, wondering when was appropriate to ruin Ryan’s day even more. He wondered if he regretted coming home early- 2am early. Shelving the question, he continued being a nuisance, evidently not put off by any of Ryan’s insults. Go fuck yourself. Unphased, Brendon blinked, still stripping him of as many blankets as possible. ”What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few days?” He said, arching his eyebrows and nudging Ryan hard in the side to make sure he was paying attention. ”There’s a nice image for you.” Even more provoked, Brendon soon ended up sitting literally on top of him, unimpressed but amused with Ryan’s misery.

Wow, very original, an emo joke. ”I’m a genius.” He offered, tilting his head decidedly. It’s too ear- ”Fuck off, its past eleven,” Brendon butted in immediately just as Ryan clumsily found and checked his phone, presumably figuring out that it wasn’t as early as he thought it was. Well. The mortification Ryan felt was obvious; though he was the one who usually demanded cuddling, he was also usually up first in the morning, sometimes hours before Brendon. Being overprepared for the day was kind of his thing, and Brendon had taken his crown, for once. ”Slacking.” Was all he said, right after barely kissing his cheekbone. Ryan apparently didn’t appreciate this gesture as much as Brendon expected, because moments later, more insults, and Brendon had to try to give back. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very self-aware sometimes.

Suck my dick. Brendon’s eyebrows rose, a light appearing in his eyes that was clearly scheming. ”I mean...” He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a few moments, seeking eye contact with his long-suffering boyfriend, before collapsing into laughter, running a hand through his hair, flushed now. ”God, you’re so easy to make fun of.” So maybe he jinxed himself a little bit, because Ryan’s next retort was inspired. You’ve never had a responsible drink in your life, Blake. Wow. Affronted, Brendon fast moved away, almost grimacing but not quite that upset. It wasn’t like he could argue that, but still, it sort of stinged. He wasn’t quite at the stage yet where he could joke about it that liberally, but he just rolled his eyes, playing it off pretty well. ”Whatever. I’m not the hungover one.”

He was back at the mission of irritating Ryan to death almost immediately, something he had a natural talent for, apparently. It was strange- Brendon had a personality that was automatically kind of childish and immature, and Ryan was definitely opposed to that kind of humour. He tolerated it, kind of- he had to. Yeah, which you won’t be participating in, like, ever again. Fucker. ”Your loss, not mine,” Brendon scoffed, looking at Ryan distastefully, but then cheering up, cracking a self-satisfied smile. ”Besides, I’m good with watching.” he wondered how far he could push this before Ryan actually rose up and throttled him to death. Somehow, he felt like he was nearing the line, and even shifted back warily, afraid that Ryan (Sure, hungover, but still naturally stronger than Brendon) would snap.

Gabriel Carrasco’s. Instinctively when Gabe was mentioned, Brendon looked towards his phone, trying not to laugh. ”Gabe’s an angel, dickhead, and they aren’t very happy with you. Have fun getting grilled later.” Unfortunately, Ryan wasn’t in a very conversational mood, apparently, so all he got from that was some toast thrown at him and then a butter stain and breadcrumbs on his side of the bed. You get it, asswipe. I’m dying. He glared from the bread that he had picked up and moved back to Ryan, grimacing. ”Then perish, motherfucker. Ruined my fucking bed.” You're goddamn right you are! Payback for not caring for your ailing boyfriend. Look at me. I'm close to death, Bren. With the least sympathy ever, Brendon surveyed Ryan, still fully unprepared to assist at all. ”Die, then,” He said flatly, finally turning and standing up, from his own side this time.

...my bad. Damn right. I’ll trade my side of the bed for a glass of water. Turning around, Brendon considered the exchange, weighing up his options. He could agree, earning him a non-breadcrumbed side to the bed, but also he’d have given in- or he could disagree, keeping his dignity but not a comfortable place to sleep. Though he usually would have prized dignity, he dreaded the prospect of arguing with a very easily irritated Ryan more, and just rolled his eyes before turning around, though by the time he was out of the door, he was smiling faintly. Thirty seconds later he was back, moving around to Ryan’s side with both some aspirin and a glass of water. ”Don’t you ever call me a bad boyfriend.”

Although his boyfriend was clearly dead set on killing him - or at least Ryan felt like he was most definitely dying - Brendon was (a). pretty cute and (b). meaning well. Maybe. He presumably just wanted to make Ryan get up before he wasted a whole day and worsened his condition. All that in mind, Ryan wasn't genuinely mad at him, but it was easier to be mean and snippy than muster up anything normal. Thankfully, Brendon seemed to either realise this or accept the cruelty in stride. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few days? Ryan was half paying attention. Brendon's incessant poking and prodding brought him back just in time to hear that and he groaned in mock annoyance. There’s a nice image for you. If there wasn't one in his head before, there was after Brendon made that suggestion; Ryan was caught a little off-guard, looking through slitted eyes at Brendon to try and dispel his stupid mental picture. "Have mercy for a second, would you? I'm in hell."

I’m a genius. Ryan tried not to look at him too long, 'cause the more he was in the oblique light of the sun flattering himself, the harder it was to throw halfhearted, dispirited comments at him. Brendon's power wasn't unique to Ryan, of course, but it was apparently twenty times as effective. Fuck off, it's past eleven. Ryan could cry. "It feels like four in the morning. Except, at four in the morning, the sun isn't out to fuck me over." He tried again to retrieve a pillow, pressing it protectively to the side of the face that rays of sunshine were assaulting. Slacking. Very much so. Maybe if Brendon's intent was, indeed, to get him up, then he was going about it wisely; the more Ryan thought that he might be lazing out, the more he felt guilted into rising and preparing for the day. But he was pretty sure all he could accomplish was maybe making a cup of coffee and carrying a pillow/blanket to the couch so he could suffer somewhere more socially acceptable.

Ryan was already instantly regretting some of his reflexive responses, but some of them in particular were very easy for Brendon to derail. I mean... Having realised moments ago what he'd prompted, Ryan glared at Brendon expectantly, only for a pink shade to rise high up on his cheekbones while he watched the lewd gesture. "Oh my god," he murmured, pressing the pillow he'd been hanging onto against his entire face this time, sighing dramatically into the fabric. He heard the muffled sound of Brendon laughing and rolled aside somewhat, willing his face to fade back to its usual paleness. God, you’re so easy to make fun of. "Yeah, and you're still fifteen years old." To be fair, Ryan had been the one to very maturely tell Brendon to suck his dick. It was just the wittiest comeback that came to mind at the time.

He probably bit back too sharply with a dig at Brendon's drinking, because he instantly shifted away from Ryan as if he was offended. Hideaway pillow gone, Ryan studied him as subtly as he could for any sign of serious affect but Brendon was a master of deception anyway - if he was truly bothered, Ryan had no clue. He could only assume that that wasn't okay and silently promised not to cross that line again. Whatever. I’m not the hungover one. Ryan exhaled slowly, thoughtful. "No one told me I had to drink water. What a hassle." Nothing could explain away how big a baby he was being about the whole situation, though. Not that Ryan would consciously address that. In reality he ignored any pressing thought that told him to suck it up.

Your loss, not mine. Pretty true. Ryan was, again, not going to admit that, though. Besides, I’m good with watching. Color rose to his features again, less intensely, but Ryan didn't bother hiding away again. "You are so much. So much, babe. I don't know how it's possible. You just woke up." He just shook his head a little, bewildered, and placed the blame on his inability to deal elsewhere. Gabe’s an angel, dickhead, and they aren’t very happy with you. Have fun getting grilled later. First of all, ha, Gabriel was actually an angel, second, Ryan had no idea why they'd be unhappy. He supposed that was an issue for later-Ryan to deal with. Now-Ryan was too busy launching carbs at his boyfriend to get him back for the entirety of his morning thus far.

Then perish, motherfucker. Ruined my fucking bed. Ryan mourned all the sympathy he'd just lost in a matter of mere seconds. Die, then. Ryan watched him rise, reaching out weakly and looking remorseful like he was truly on his deathbed. There was a long pause while Brendon appeared to weigh the pros and cons of adhering to Ryan's requests, and fortunately Brendon finally rolled his eyes skyward and walk off, assumedly to retrieve Ryan's bargaining chips. In the space of time he went, Ryan moved over to Brendon's side, resettling amongst the covers with as innocent a face as he could put on by the time Brendon returned. Don't you ever call me a bad boyfriend. Ryan gaped at him, ushering him over even while he approached.

"This is the hottest you've ever been," Ryan said theatrically, taking the aspirin and immediately chugging water with it, leaving barely a millisecond between his words and the action. He slowed down after, holding the glass tentatively and considering Brendon. "Sorry I told you to, like, go fuck yourself, and everything. You're a great boyfriend." He skewed up his lips in a slant, looking sheepish, and then set his glass of water down, folding his hands together before quickly leaning over to kiss Brendon's cheek. "Forgive me? I'm dying, Brendon. Couldn't help it."

Brendon wasn’t really sure what he was trying to achieve. If he succeeded in annoying Ryan out of bed and self-pity, he would surely just drag himself over the couch, instead, and be a pain in the neck for the rest of the day. He made a note to self to call Holden later and tell him he was coming over- if Ryan didn’t quickly come down from his current agitated, very annoying, whiny state. It wasn’t like he felt any sympathy- sure, he knew exactly how it felt, the sensation was all too familiar; but this was a baby hangover compared to some violent ones that Brendon had suffered in the past, some that even Ryan hadn’t seen during the worst periods. A shiver cut through him suddenly as he relived the sensations- retching, shivering, an excruciating pain in his head. The afflictions were like ghosts- gone, but their presence was there, unseen. Brendon found that this did bring back some painful memories, but he shook it off as quickly as he could- there was no use feeling sorry for himself. There was already a man in this house doing enough of that for the both of them.

Have mercy for a second, would you? I’m in hell. Brendon laughed, meeting Ryan’s slitted eyes with raised, suggestive eyebrows. ”No rest for the wicked,” He replied, surveying the rather sorry state of his boyfriend with something akin to disdain. ”And anyway, darling, I’d say that when you’re with me and I’m giving you that kind of material for later, you’re in heaven.” Grinning again, he settled, deciding that watch Ryan complain would never get boring. It feels like four in the morning. ”It’s not,” He chimed in helpfully. Except, at four in the morning, the sun isn't out to fuck me over. Ryan was making this too easy. He cleared his throat. ”Which sun are you referring to, Ryan?” Splaying a hand against his chest, he then gestures towards the window where the sunlight was entering. ”I’m fucking you over right now, really, so. Both work.” Rather judgemental, he watched as Ryan buried his face in his pillow to try and escape the daytime, and was very tempted to just pull the remaining blankets and pillows away and leave him on a stripped bed. The more he whined, the more tempting it became.

In all seriousness, it wasn’t like Brendon would have refused Ryan’s request (if it had actually been a request and not a poorly thought-through insult at someone who was very likely to gain the upper hand by turning it back around on Ryan). He rarely did. Brendon was quite laughably used to making such a lewd gesture in Ryan’s direction, mostly because he thought the expression on Ryan’s face was always priceless and the way he flushed pink was also pretty entertaining. Either way, it was like a muscle memory, and Ryan’s response (hide his face in the pillows) was textbook. Oh my god. Brendon curled his hand into a fist and brought it to his mouth for mere milliseconds because he started laughing almost immmediately, so easily amused by his own immaturity. Yeah, and you're still fifteen years old. He wager a dismissive hand. ”I was just on board to suck your dick, idiot. You should have taken that. Not like you to back out.” Now he was just messing with him, but it was funny because Brendon wasn’t exaggerating or telling any lies. They were just really like this.

No one told me I had to drink water. What a hassle. Brendon checked his own phone again, scrolling back up through the many messages sent between Ryan’s departure from the party and this morning. ”They wanted to get you pissed, that’s why. Getting drunk isn’t inherently bad, you know,” He said tersely, looking up carefully and making brief eye contact. ”I envy you. My 21st is going to be so fucking boring.” He was genuinely mourning the loss; all last night he had just envied them all having fun without him because apparently he wasn’t fucking strong enough to have a few drinks and then stop. It almost frustrated him how Ryan hadn’t continued to drink when he got back- wanted a drink first thing this morning- needed to drink throughout the day. Brendon was angry at himself, and though he knew it was an illness, an addiction, it wasn’t as easy as just ‘really wanting to stop’- he found himself taking all his own blame, if only to put it down to a reason. Really, it seemed, the universe had just been unfair to him.

You are so much. So much, babe. I don't know how it's possible. You just woke up. Brendon snapped out of his brief melancholy and shrugged his shoulders back, as if to ask Ryan whether he expected anything else. Back on his phone, he sent a single message to the group chat- sleeping beauty is awake and hung over- and immediately, Gabe was typing. He laughed and put his phone aside. That one was for Ryan to read. Speaking of his boyfriend, he had almost decided to tolerate him and treat him nicely, but suddenly his side of the bed was covered in crumbs and grease and he was ready to condemn him to death. For some reason, his compassion for the evidently suffering man he loved got the better of him and he found himself obeying his boyfriend’s requests and getting him water and aspirin, hoping it would make him less of a whiny dick.

This is the hottest you’ve ever been. Brendon wasn’t sure whether to be offended, so he just skewed an eyebrow. Sorry I told you to, like, go fuck yourself, and everything. You're a great boyfriend. ”I know.” Though slightly more patient, he wasn’t about to leave Ryan alone yet- instead, he climbed into Ryan’s side of the bed, then crossed it completely to straddle Ryan again, grinning widely as Ryan attempted to kiss him on the cheek. He turned his head to catch his mouth, instead, and lead him into a kiss, with seemingly relatively innocent intentions. Instead, he threw a different spanner into the works of the already pretty broken man beneath him and pressed his hips down hard, shifting forwards and keeping his eyes on Ryan to catch his reaction. Forgive me? I’m dying, Brendon. Couldn’t help it. He laughed after pulling back, making himself more comfortable. ”That’s alright. You can’t help, uh, a lot of things. But you’re still a whiny bitch.”

/

No rest for the wicked. And anyway, darling, I’d say that when you’re with me and I’m giving you that kind of material for later, you’re in heaven. Ryan decided he would have to not grace some of these things with responses if he was going to get anywhere today. As long as he kept on providing Brendon with mocking material, he'd probably be stuck in this bed for hours arguing with him about not getting up. Like, the only reason he hadn't risen after the fiftieth dig at his expense was spite. That was kind of how they subsisted, though, just a constant back-and-forth that never escalated into real conflict and always involved them acting dumb and lovesick every once in a while. Funny how functional they could be when their lives were purely sitcom material.

It’s not. Ryan almost flipped him off. Almost. The real struggle was lifting his hand from his head. Which sun are you referring to, Ryan? Shit. Another easy target. Ryan sighed, looking towards the sun he was actually referring to, feeling the glow spread across his face and feeling the exact opposite of refreshed by it. He blinked in the light momentarily before turning his attention back to Brendon, prepared for whatever smartassery would follow. I’m fucking you over right now, really, so. Both work. Weirdly, part of him was becoming fond of how dedicated Brendon was to bothering him - or playfully messing with him, anyway. Sometimes he couldn't tell whether Brendon was serious or not. Instead of the typical scowl he'd pull out, Ryan sort of smirked, squinting against the shine. "I'm glad you're at least self-aware," he said, unclear morning voice giving him some added sense of calmness.

The slight fondness didn't last long; as much as Brendon's lewd miming was amusing, he couldn't feasibly encourage it by laughing along with the joke, so Ryan reacted as matronly as he could. I was just on board to suck your dick, idiot. You should have taken that. Not like you to back out. Ryan would have gone red again if he hadn't reached his max capacity, probably. As it were he just half-frowned at Brendon, dubious. "Sure you were. 'Cause I'm so desirable right now." Nearly a fair point. He looked sickly when he was hiding from the golden light of the sun, and he was still wearing 80% of his birthday clothes from last night - the difference was, they were completely twisted and wrinkled from sleep, buttons in disarray and all. Sure, he was only marginally worse off from an average morning, but still. Not a good look for him, and he certainly didn't qualify for any of Brendon's supposed 'favors.'

Ryan watched Brendon distract himself with his phone for a moment, putting the pieces together that he was reading all the messages that Ryan had blatantly been avoiding. They wanted to get you pissed, that’s why. Getting drunk isn’t inherently bad, you know. Ryan met his gaze and was suddenly uncomfortable with the implication. First it spoke to Brendon's experiences that he never wanted to think about - then there was the annoying part of him that argued 'yes it is,' even despite the years of him trying to unlearn that misconception. Either he thought the act itself was stupid or anyone who participated was stupid, senseless. He'd only ever witnessed the negative effects, anyway. Funnily enough, if he'd stuck around at his party, maybe he could've witnessed the flip side to that... Bygones.

He tried to break the contact first, glancing at his fingernails and chipping at them absently. I envy you. My 21st is going to be so fucking boring. Ryan arched an eyebrow, but wasn't looking in Brendon's direction. "You underestimate my ability to throw an alcohol-free party. Not to spoil anything, but you should totally expect a fuckton of weed to make up for the loss." But that wasn't really news. He'd been throwing Brendon-themed birthday parties for years now, and they all went along the same lines with some appropriate variation as they grew older; baseline was of course weed, karaoke, and plenty of sugary snacks/drinks. What started off with Aladdin showings and Disneyworld visits evolved into everyone sitting around a smoky room watching Brendon attempt a very stoned falsetto. Story of his life, basically.

At the simple gesture of Brendon retrieving medicine for him, though, Ryan was considering just buying him the entire goddamn world - and Brendon didn't appear very complimented by his whim implication that he'd had peaked from this one single act of kindness. Ryan silently apologised to his judgmental eyebrow. I know. At least he seemed to have taken Brendon down a notch. Ryan smiled a little, watching him make the journey back over and climb ontop of him once more. Sneakily he turned his head at the last moment to guide both of them into a real kiss and Ryan felt lucky for it; it was sort of forgiveness, after all. Maybe not, though. Rather evilly, Brendon ground down and ahead, and Ryan was caught so off-guard that he didn't think to control the instant hitch in his breath. Clearly in a desperate state, Ryan latched on to the fabric of Brendon's shirt as he began to pull away, an effort to keep him in place.

That’s alright. You can’t help, uh, a lot of things. But you’re still a whiny bitch. "Sure, sure, you're right," he said distractedly, evidently completely uncaring about his new, colorful label. Sort of proving it correct, he started pulling needily on Brendon's shirt, trying to meet him in a second kiss. "I'm having a moment of weakness and you're being like that. I have good cause to be a whiny bitch." He was grinning dizzily, though, so clearly not that upset; in fact what was Brendon's attempt at teasing him seemed to have lifted his spirits somewhat. "Like, apart from my baby hangover, I mean."

I’m glad you’re at least self-aware. Brendon shrugged, suddenly stretching out lithely in the soft caress of the sunlight; his shirt rode up a little, a little expanse of skin so typically exposed at his waist, the lean muscle he possessed pulled tight as he extended himself, still stiff despite having slept for less than six hours. The glow of the late morning illuminated his skin, and even the faint scatter of freckles that dusted his face were more prominent. Brendon really was gorgeous. His ever-easy smile was bright and charming, and so were his eyes- deep in colour, so clearly warm, just like the sun that Ryan so loyally compared him to. Out of the blue, some rather pretentious lines of Shakespeare he didn’t know that he knew crossed his mind- If I could write the beauty of your eyes, and in fresh numbers number all your graces, the age to come would say, “this poet lies— such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.”- and he almost rolled his eyes at himself when he finally relaxed his muscles, remembering absently that it had definitely been Ryan who taught him that and Ryan had definitely been enamoured by the words similarly to how he was enamoured by Brendon. And it was vice versa. They were so overdramatic and sweet, and that was proven by how Brendon ended up with a warm swell of strong affection in his heart when his boyfriend looked like a whole hot mess.

He’d almost forgotten that Ryan had even spoken, he was so distracted in his untimely romantic mental imagery and pretentious literature. ”...When am I not self aware?” He finally responded, finally snapping out of his daydream and almost flipping his mood on its head, from sweet and serene to very irritating and an intentional nuisance. It was one of his many talents- unpredictability. Sure you were. Cause i’m so desirable right now. Brendon raised an eyebrow, eyeing his boyfriend doubtfully. Sure, he wasn’t looking his best, but honestly Brendon hadn’t really thought about that. He shrugged offhandedly. ”When has that ever stopped me?” He offered, before growing bored and checking his phone, dying to let Gabe chew Ryan out. He considered calling them for a second, but honestly, if he did, the call would last for hours (Brendon was too afraid to actually hang up on them, lest they take revenge in some typical Carrasco-esque way).

Abandoning the idea, he instead grew frustrated with Ryan’s persistent negative attitude towards alcohol and drinking; though he didn’t blame Ryan for having a bad perception of it due to arguably very traumatic experiences with it both when he was younger and into adulthood (the latter was in fact because of Brendon, what could he even say?), he had hoped that his 21st would loosen him up a little, allow him to have fun and actually enjoy drinking without constantly being weighted by worry for Brendon or whole horrible flashbacks of his father. He hadn’t expected a miracle- maybe an improvement of some small magnitude- but now Brendon was regretting getting his hopes up. He expressed his irritation, and Ryan met his eyes immediately. Brendon was then uncomfortable, but didn’t break eye contact, just rose his eyebrows minutely, almost as if a challenge. This conversation had all the potential and ingredients to take a turn for the worse.

Luckily, it didn’t, because Brendon started complaining about his 21st party, one he already expected to be boring. You underestimate my ability to throw an alcohol-free party. Not to spoil anything, but you should totally expect a fuckton of weed to make up for the loss. That got his attention. Brendon grinned immediately, reminiscing on every birthday party/celebration Ryan had thrown him or organised in the past; all involved almost excessive amounts of weed, sugar, and now, karaoke so Brendon could destroy everybody while both stoned and riding a sugar high. ”It’s gonna be my 21st, so you better outdo yourself this time,” He warned, as he was walking towards the bedroom door to go and get the medicine Ryan had requested, leaving his phone on his dresser face-up, hoping that Ryan, when he moved over, would see how pissed Gabe was. Honestly, Brendon was convinced that they didn’t even care- they still got to get wasted, and that was usually good enough for them. From what Brendon heard.

He came back obediently with the aspirin and the water, then waited respectfully until Ryan had chugged the water and taken the medicine before climbing onto him again, evidently not willing to give up his comfortable position. It wasn’t just about that, though- he was still feeling rather devilish, so to speak, and nothing was funnier than catching Ryan off guard- so that’s just what he did, same old trick every time, still succeeded in making his breath hitch like an idiot. Sure, sure, you’re right. Brendon laughed almost affectionately, surprised by lack of argument by Ryan, but he was also on a roll, so he pressed forwards again as his boyfriend dragged him into a second kiss. He no longer tasted like alcohol, Brendon noted, pulling back as much as he could with Ryan gripping onto him like his life depended on it. This was new behaviour- desperation, almost, the kind of clingy reaction usually reserved for Brendon.

I'm having a moment of weakness and you're being like that. I have good cause to be a whiny bitch. ”I’ll give you that, babe,” He murmured, but he had his eyes narrowed- this really usually was the other way round, and Brendon was suspicious. ”What just happened?” He asked, dead serious, though Ryan’s dizzy smile was infectious. Like, apart from my baby hangover, I mean. It really was a baby hangover, too- Brendon had seen and experienced much, much worse. Anyway, that wasn’t important right now- Brendon had more pressing issues to cover. ”So, did drinking turn you into a bottom, or what?” He asked outright, pulling back to regard his boyfriend carefully, devising a plan to quickly get it back to how he preferred it. ”Joking. Hey, your 21st would have been so much more fun if I was there. There was this one time at this shitty dive bar, I met this guy called Josh and he made a bet with me, who can chug a beer the fastest- he fuckin’ destroyed me, can you believe it?” Brendon paused for effect. ”He made me wear high heels as penalty for losing. Also, he was hot. 99% sure he took me home, it’s all a bit foggy.”

Ryan's efforts to stay annoyed at Brendon were squandered by his looks alone, and it'd be ridiculous if only anyone wouldn't be charmed by Brendon's appearance - especially the way he looked in sunlight. There was a reason Ryan carried such a strong mental association between his soulmate and the sun itself; he looked more alive than ever, more at home than ever, when he was illuminated in the natural light. It wasn't that deep, really, but Ryan comforted himself in thinking about it as the exact opposite of all the places Brendon found himself during the worst times of his life. Dark alleyways and poorly lit bars and neon-artificial clubs, those were all completely separate realms from the security of pure skylight. When he saw Brendon glowing warm and lively, it looked like he'd already finished reinventing himself from those times.

But Ryan was a romantic, and it really wasn't anywhere close to worthy of that much overanalysis, so he didn't bother commenting on the sight. Instead he just stared a little dumbly as Brendon's muscles stretched with the rest of him, skin bright with health and usually dark eyes revealing more depth than ever, then ducked his head to look at his hands while he picked at his fingernails absently. He barely even had the awareness after that to think about his own insecurities when next to Brendon like this (which usually the situation always dwindled down into). ...When am I not self aware? Funny he should ask. Ryan could ask the exact opposite of himself, 'cause apparently he very easily tuned out of awareness. He humored Brendon nonetheless, a tiny smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. "All the time, baby," he said, instantly thinking about the more than one occasion where he had to tell Brendon he was about to walk into a pole, or something. Pretty typical.

At his appearance, Brendon just shrugged, and oddly Ryan was flattered by his carelessness. So maybe Ryan had other redeeming qualities - what a nice thought. When has that ever stopped me? Taking that as rhetorical, Ryan seized the opportunity to admire him again while he glanced down at his phone, taking in the contrast of his eyelashes brush over his cheekbones, the newly emphasized freckles dusting his skin wherever it faced up to the sun. He wrung his hand together, trying to avoid reaching out to him already. He managed to save himself from something of a faux pas by diverting the conversation from alcohol to weed - not much better in any authority's opinion, probably, but definitely minutely more comfortable for him to discuss without sounding like a judgmental or cynical asshole.

It’s gonna be my 21st, so you better outdo yourself this time. Oh, Ryan had a lot of plans for Brendon, and they didn't all involve his birthday. He held his chin in his hand, elbow on the mattress, but angled so lazily he was barely holding himself up while he considered Brendon. "I'm not worried," he confirmed, which was likely a big deal keeping in mind that Ryan was pretty much always afraid of fucking up or disappointing someone. Brendon in particular. Maybe he was a little worried someone else might ruin the party - but every prime suspect for that was someone that Brendon liked, for example goddamn Holden or Gabe, all of whom had proven themselves to be little shits for the past couple days - but for the most part he was pretty sure he had his boyfriend's best interests in mind.

Ryan knew Brendon was probably mentally scrutinizing his new behavior, which he himself had only just fully registered, and looked sheepish. I’ll give you that, babe. What just happened? Slightly embarrassed by the effect Brendon rightfully had on him, Ryan shook his head a bit, dismissive. Brendon pressed on anyway. So, did drinking turn you into a bottom, or what? Ryan let go of his shirt and instead lifted one hand to press against his face briefly, play-fighting him as if they were kids again. "Quiet, you." Really not funny. But Ryan had exhausted all of his overreacting energy already, or something. Joking. Hey, your 21st would have been so much more fun if I was there. Ryan went silent, staring him down reservedly, because either this could be very bad or slightly cute. He wasn't that excited about his chances. His hands dropped unceremoniously to his side.

There was this one time at this shitty dive bar, I met this guy called Josh and he made a bet with me, who can chug a beer the fastest- he fuckin’ destroyed me, can you believe it? Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face, somewhat impatient, and his bizarre act from moments ago was completely gone. "No. I guess not." He tucked one hand into his hair, then folded it behind his head, gazing up at Brendon in wait of the end of this very thought-provoking anecdote. He made me wear high heels as penalty for losing. Also, he was hot. 99% sure he took me home, it’s all a bit foggy. "I'm going to ignore everything I don't like about what you just said. Where'd you even get high heels? Who let your dumb ass borrow their shoes?" Ryan's fingers were playing along the skin he'd bared for himself along Brendon's waistline, pinching him very lightly to pair with his teasing. He forgot his resolve to forget everything unpleasant to make another mocking joke. "Also, it seems like it's safe to assume you just go home with everyone from these stories, based on what you say." Ryan was grinning, though, oddly not mad but more amused by his misfortune.

If Brendon read too deep into their little sun-moon analogy, he’d probably gain some kind of distaste for it- since Ryan had penned it in the first place, in lyrics, and he had a habit of being self-depreciating, the closer he looked, the more concerned he became. It was romantic, and sweet, and was now mutually accepted, but Brendon was worried that Ryan thought his own worth was just a reflection of Brendon, that whatever love he had for him, however strong and genuine, was his only defining factor. Brendon disagreed fervently. The moon, he thought, was beautiful in its own right; the sun was too bright, too intense, almost gaudy. The moon would prefer to stay at the sidelines, but the sun’s exuberance brought out some qualities the world deserved to see. And that’s sort of how Brendon and Ryan worked- equals, willing to give the other the limelight in a heartbeat. Ryan just didn’t really thrive in the limelight- unless the attention was coming from Brendon. Either way, even though it was typical of Ryan to be all morose about himself, the analogy was special and had recurred consistently throughout their entire lives. He wasn’t about to abandon it.

He was thinking about it because last night it had been a waxing moon, a couple of days away from when it was full. Unfortunate, and ironic, that what was the symbol for the love of his life was also what caused him to have a very stressful night once a month. Anyway, Brendon had been alone- he’d already coaxed a drunk Ryan into bed and his boyfriend was fast asleep by the time he followed suit. It had been a busy, strange night, but he found solace with the moon, and then when he went to bed, he found solace with Ryan. Then, there was this morning, and the sun was glaring in, endlessly irritating, similarly to how Brendon seemed to be making it his personal mission to annoy his suffering boyfriend to death. For a while, he seemed to be succeeding, but Brendon then gave up- he hadn’t had a proper conversation with his boyfriend face-to-face for three days and he wanted to catch up at a time where Brendon wasn’t trying to kiss him every other word.

All the time, baby. Though Ryan’s voice sounded husky and sort of dry, Brendon wasn’t too concerned, because his normal speaking voice wasn’t too far off from that description to begin with (though he stood by his belief that his singing voice was a lot softer and had much more character and likability than Ryan restricted himself from believing). He considered arguing- of course Brendon was self-aware about a lot of things; that was how he so easily read Ryan like a book and so easily tended to wrap his boyfriend around his finger. He wasn’t the kind of person who needed compliments or validation to be confident- but that wasn’t to say he didn’t want it, and didn’t demand it without words when appreciation wasn’t shown to him. That’s where body language came in- that’s when he was hyperaware of himself, because if he was, Ryan definitely would be. ”...Yeah, I think you’re calling me a little short, darlin’.”

Ryan always delivered, despite his occasional obliviousness- for example, he catered to Brendon’s specific needs at any birthday parties that fell onto his shoulders to plan and organise (the rest of their close circle told him ‘duh, you’re a Virgo, plus you’re doing the guest of honour’. That had been an exact sentence out of Gabe’s mouth). It was a unique situation- the birthday boy loved to drink, liked alcohol, and loved to be the life of the party. He was also a recovering alcoholic and nobody would let him within ten feet of a bottle. Especially since the upcoming celebration would be for his 21st, it would be sort of awkward and Brendon could already sense the elephant in the room- it was a 21st, at least let the guests drink. But Ryan would never allow that. So, yeah, it was hard, but Ryan was resourceful and he knew Brendon very well- the way to his heart was by replacing any potential alcohol with twice as much weed. I’m not worried. That was new. God, Brendon was in love with him, the lightweight, hungover sucker. Shifting, he traced his fingers down his boyfriend’s arm lovingly, holding his breath so it seemed like he was casual about it all. It was sweet, but it was Brendon they were talking about; it couldn’t stay that way for very long.

Quiet, you. Brendon shrugged a shoulder innocently, pretending to zip his mouth closed and then leaning forwards to bite affectionately at his bottom lip, seemingly hoping to gain some favour before he launched into a tangent about the crazy stuff he used to get up to back when he didn’t really care about his health and he didn’t have a Ryan making sure he stayed on track when he did try to quit. No. I guess not. Well, that said a lot. Brendon was surprised he hadn’t heard the story from Holden, who actively demanded that Brendon tell him everything vaguely interesting that happened to him while he was drunk. And Holden wasn’t too good at keeping his mouth shut. ”Well, he did. I was pissed at myself- my crown had fallen.” Tilting his head, he considered the remainder of the story. I'm going to ignore everything I don't like about what you just said. Where'd you even get high heels? Who let your dumb ass borrow their shoes? Brendon laughed, resting both his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and then sliding them down to his sides. ”The guy who proposed the bet, duh. Josh. Well, Josh’s friend. Did him, too.” He said it in a way that was indistinguishable, but knowing Brendon...

He considered dropping it when Ryan started playing along his waistline, and let his eyes fall closed. Maybe he could just lie back down on Ryan’s chest and they could go back to sleep. Also, it seems like it's safe to assume you just go home with everyone from these stories, based on what you say. At least he had the courtesy to look sheepish. Brendon bit his lip to stop a smirk, considering that rather broad, sweeping statement. Then he nodded, hesitant. ”You’re pretty much right. Listen, I was a young dumbass going through heartbreak, I adopted some pretty shit coping mechanisms. But I had some damn good times. You missed out, being single is fun.” Poor choice of words. He was surprised he hadn’t been kicked off Ryan’s lap yet, and suddenly bored, he pressed down again, impatient. ”But it’s much nicer to have someone who knows me as well as you do, baby. I love you.”

...Yeah, I think you’re calling me a little short, darlin’. Actually, Ryan wouldn't be surprised if Brendon really was conscious of every time he made Ryan re-fall in love with him all over again, or made him desperate to kiss him at very inopportune moments, or made him want to comfort Brendon and make him forget the world around him when he wore a face too hurt by it. Yeah, definitely sounded like Brendon to provoke these reactions on purpose. He shrugged against the sheets upon reconsideration, deciding that Brendon being self-aware was much worse than him not. At least with the latter he could act like he just felt the need to kiss him senseless rather than being bribed into it with a particular glance/smile/outfit. Actually, maybe this was less Brendon's fault than it was Ryan's for being so easily swayed - but he'd never admit that.

After an accusation like them switching roles - like Ryan would ever, or at least that's what he thought, but in practice if Brendon so much as requested it he'd probably go right ahead and trade - he demanded silence, and Brendon endearingly zipped his lips. So, of couse, he was instantly forgiven for being precious. Ryan was dangerously close to rolling his eyes at his adorable boyfriend but was distracted by Brendon catching his lip, leaning in to chase him and kiss him properly before he got too far away. Apparently, though, this was Brendon warming him up to a fun little story that he was totally going to hate, and Ryan quickly forgot all about how cute and sweet he thought Brendon was when he launched into a tale of drunken misadventures. He'd heard plenty, really - they just never ceased to be awful. Someone like Holden who milked them from Brendon perpetually could handle it, maybe, but Ryan had an ounce of compassion and care in his body, so.

This time it was a competition on who chugged a beer fastest, and Ryan thought distantly that he wouldn't've been impressed either way. Regardless, if he were there at the time, the contest wouldn't have even happened - Brendon probably wouldn't have a taste for the stuff yet. Well, he did. I was pissed at myself- my crown had fallen. Ryan scrunched up his face and pretended to suddenly be touch-averse when Brendon's hands landed on his shoulders, shrugging him off abruptly. The guy who proposed the bet, duh. Josh. Well, Josh’s friend. Did him, too. Did? That verb didn't fit anything else Brendon had just said. So it was something else. Ryan wondered why Brendon was trying to kill him. "'Did?' Sounds very romantic, baby, thank you for sharing." He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how it was possible for Brendon to shift moods so quickly.

Brendon happened to take his mocking well, and Ryan released a tiny exhale of relief. Sure, he knew their boundaries on jokes, but his tone tended to remain flat and he desperately needed inflection for that last one to really get across. You’re pretty much right. Listen, I was a young dumbass going through heartbreak, I adopted some pretty shit coping mechanisms. Ryan had too. He reminisced for a second, reflexively holding on to his other arm to feel the fat/muscle he'd regained over bone, thankfully. But I had some damn good times. You missed out, being single is fun. "Yeah? If you keep telling me stories about you fucking other people, you might go back to that super fun lifestyle," he consoled Brendon, smiling enthusiastically. He still looked pretty entertained by how awful Brendon could be at choosing his words wisely, though, so there was apparently no harm done.

Especially because moments later Ryan felt the pressure against his hips again and raised a hand quickly to rest against Brendon's chest, lips parting. But it’s much nicer to have someone who knows me as well as you do, baby. I love you. Ryan sucked his teeth, his go-to 'shut up' noise. "Oh, fuck you," he breathed, barely resisting a grin. "You totally miss Josh and his friend. I love you." So weird. He curled his hand in the fabric of Brendon's shirt to pull him in for a kiss, a lustful subtext there that he most definitely wouldn't be addressing given the circumstances. Which, he still needed to get back at Brendon, and the only way he could come up with was by playing along a little. "By the way, I would definitely win that competition, who can chug a beer the fastest. Ever seen a first time drinker? One drink goes so quick."

Brendon was fully aware of the effect he had on Ryan, and being someone driven by any attention he was given, the reaction he got whenever he intended only provoked him into acting out more or working a little harder to charm his husband into doing what he wanted. It was, regrettably for Ryan, an astoundingly easy task; he knew the drill, he could win him over with minimum effort, through things as menial and simple as just catching his bottom lip between his teeth, sending a wink in his direction, running his hands through his own hair and pushing it out of his eyes, looking up at Ryan through his eyelashes, amongst a spread of other things. Like he said, Ryan was easy. Brendon was, too, but it was maybe a little less obvious- though in truth, Ryan had his entire heart in his hand, and Brendon was just as enamoured, just as weak, and even worse at suppressing it. So, together, there wasn’t an obviously constantly thirsty but vaguely irritated Ryan, and a similarly minded Brendon who, once past a certain point, was plain about his feelings. Subtlety was neither of their specialties.

Though he liked to think of himself as adaptable to change, what he suggested then was instantly regretted as he belatedly realised he was way too comfortable how they were to ever consider switching. Brendon was something of a cliche in that department, and therefore the target of gentle mockery by his husband. Who was supposed to love him, he reminded him every time, whining about the very valid teasing. To prevent any further comments (and just in case Ryan was seriously considering anything), Brendon wasted no time in kissing him until he needed air, which was conveniently when he had conjured from the back of his mind a story to tell, one from years ago about drunken misadventures he secretly kind of missed. There was a reason he told them- to reminisce, almost, and the memories were bittersweet. Usually, he would tell these to an amused Holden, but when he was feeling particularly irritating, Ryan was forced to listen.

Ryan didn’t seem impressed, but then, why would he? The lack of obvious reaction disappointed him, though, and he persisted in trying to get a rise out of him. Immediate regret kicked in when Ryan seemed to draw back, shrugging his hands off his shoulders. He was seconds away from sucking up and apologising, but apparently Ryan wasn’t done. Did? Sounds very romantic, baby, thank you for sharing. Brendon laughed, looking at Ryan admiringly, which was odd considering the nature of the situation. ”Well, making love isn’t exactly the term I was looking for.” He paused, considering what was too much. ”But you get the picture.” Brendon shifted to get a little more comfortable, trying not to grin, instead forcing himself to keep a straight face as he raised a suggestive eyebrow, persistently moving his hands back onto Ryan’s shoulders, still a little pissed that suddenly Ryan was stronger than him, something brought to mind when he ran his hands down his boyfriend’s arms and realised the difference only a couple of years had made.

It was weird- it felt only yesterday they’d reunited and Brendon had been somewhat stunned by how much weight he’d lost and how small he looked compared to Brendon- and then the fucker had to go and have a growth spurt and regain lost weight and then some, to the point where Ryan was now a little over two inches taller and Brendon could feel the muscle under his skin when he ran his hands down Ryan’s arms. He wasn’t about to complain. Yeah? If you keep telling me stories about you fucking other people, you might go back to that super fun lifestyle. Brendon laughed again because the prospect was impossible and ridiculous. ”In all fairness to me, it’s been, like, a week. I’m flesh and blood,” He reasoned, balancing that apparent fairness with evil as he drew a physical reaction from his boyfriend that was quite amusing. ”And you would never. Can you imagine?” Brendon couldn’t, or rather, he didn’t want to. They’d been apart much too long once in the past and they both knew it was not favourable.

Oh, fuck you. “If you want to, baby,” He quipped, laughing again. Ryan made it way too easy. You totally miss Josh and his friend. I love you. Affectionate, he moved a hand up to cradle Ryan’s jaw. ”I love you t-” Apparently Ryan already knew the rest, because he was being dragged quite forcefully into a kiss, one that he melted into, pulling him closer by wrapping his arms loosely around his neck and leaning forwards against Ryan’s chest. He pulled back reluctantly as Ryan turned his head and spoke off to the side. By the way, I would definitely win that competition, who can chug a beer the fastest. Ever seen a first time drinker? One drink goes so quick. That was fighting talk if Brendon ever saw it. ”Is that a challenge?” Probably not. Dropping his arms back to his sides, Brendon moved off to the side, shifting to sit cross-legged and reach for his phone again. More messages from Gabe. He grinned. ”Check your damn phone.”

/