They married three months after Brendon proposed at the cabin they’d fallen in love at, and it was, as cliche as it sounded, the happiest and most fulfilling day of his life. Before he was standing there, saying his vows, he laughed off the notion that this single day would top all of others- it was marriage, it was wonderful, yeah, but it was one day that began a whole new chapter of life. Yet, when he stood in front of his husband-to-be, looking ridiculously handsome and characteristically nervous, there was a sense of joy settling in his chest that was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It wasn’t passion, or fire, or urgency; it was a soft, gentle feeling, pure and wholly intense, it was a surety, adoration, love. This was the man he would spend the rest of his life with- and that was overwhelming. Especially since they’d decided to tie the metaphorical knot at that iconic cabin; the memories and nostalgia settling in every bedroom and written on every wall choked even Brendon up- Brendon, who was romantic, charming and effortless even in the most intimate of moments, starting to tear up when he relayed to the guests a very shortened but impassioned version of how they fell in love at this very location by the lake years ago. He tried to bare his heart as much as possible, be transparent- but they’d never really understand. It didn’t matter. As long as Ryan did. And maybe Spencer and Jon, who sat there looking a bit sick of them.

Ryan was a fantastic writer, so Brendon could never understand why he often couldn’t form a coherent sentence, especially in front of large groups of people- but he expected it, and when Ryan’s vows were short and earnest, his voice raw with emotion in a way he hadn’t heard before, Brendon fell in love with him a little more. If that was possible. Once they’d said their vows, Ryan took Brendon’s last name- that was inevitable- and they kissed for the first time as husbands, gentle and brief and humming with a thousand feelings that no words could ever fully describe. They walked back down the aisle together, hand in hand, and when they were alone for a few brief moments, Brendon cried, happy tears that Ryan wiped away, and then they told eachother things that were too intimate, too special to share with anyone else. They kissed, Brendon stepping forward and throwing his arms around his neck, Ryan wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. It was comforting, familiar, but different- Brendon was dizzy with affection, ecstatic, passionate, head over heels in love. Their moment was only brief, and then they headed off to the wedding reception, though both of them secretly kind of wanted just to go home and be with eachother. Brendon outshone everyone by singing a song to Ryan he’d penned especially for the wedding, Ryan looked like he was trying not to be overwhelmed, and they flitted between guests, always hand in hand, fingers intertwined, not breaking for even a second.

The day after, they headed off to Cape Town, South Africa, for a three week long honeymoon that Brendon had been the mastermind of. Ryan would have been happy just going back to their apartment, but Brendon was extra and romantic and he wanted a break away from everyone but the one person who mattered the most. Plus, he wanted an excuse to wear as little as possible- not that he ever usually cared whether he had an excuse or not. The villa he picked was huge and luxurious, and Ryan had argued that they didn’t need one so big and fancy; but Brendon had an expensive taste and insisted that yeah, they did need four bedrooms, why wouldn’t they, look at how pretty it is, Ryan, its right by the sea, has a private little beach, a fantastic pool. Clearly he won him over, because they were a week into their honeymoon and they had only left their villa so far to get food or to take the 30 second walk down to the beach. Brendon hadn’t worn a shirt in five days. Ryan was supposedly halfway through his book he’d wanted to read for ages. Brendon had gone through a chronological list with Ryan of where in the house they should, as he eloquently put it, ‘do it’ next. Ryan was exasperated, but not mad about it. Mostly, they just relaxed, sometimes barely speaking, just happiest in each others company until Ryan the goddamn vampire got too hot and had to go inside for a bit while Brendon soaked up the sun like a cat.

Brendon was lying down on a beach chair and Ryan was sat beside him on a more upright deck chair. Brendon was in his swimming trunks, Ryan was wearing those plus some white v-neck t-shirt, which was disappointing because then Brendon couldn’t do that married couple thing of applying sunscreen for the other on their backs. Brendon had just put his playlist on shuffle, when ‘from a mountain’ decided to come on and he grinned, lifting his sunglasses into his hair and sitting up, poking Ryan’s leg with his foot. ”This sounds familiar,” He said, as if considering the tune, tilting his head thoughtfully to one side. Brendon then stood up from the sun bed and headed over to the cheap wireless speaker he’d bought while they were out- he’d forgotten to bring their own- and picked up his phone from beside it, turning it off before Ryan complained. ”That’s a good song, though. Heard some guy wrote it about him and his boyfriend.” Grinning, Brendon took off his sunglasses from his forehead and rested them by his phone as he set it back down by the speaker, turning and pausing for a second before deciding that he was getting too hot, he needed to cool down in the pool.

So he didn’t let Ryan know, just sat on the pool ledge and then pushed himself off into the water, sinking comfortably down to his waist and then swimming across to the other side, resting his back and his elbows against the poolside and tilting his head back to admire the sky. It was the evening, but just the beginning- the sun was a vibrant orange-gold, painting the pristine villa, skimming over the pool, glossing over Brendon’s wet skin. He closed his eyes after admiring the sun-streaked sky and the horizon line over the sea, tilted his head back, savoured a warm breeze that played through his damp hair. He couldn’t have been more relaxed if he tried- there was the faint sound of birds, but save that and the lapping of the sea on the white shores of their little beach, it was all quiet. Brendon opened his eyes to locate Ryan- he hadn’t moved, but when he met his husband’s eyes, he quickly and almost sheepishly looked away from how he’d obviously been staring at him, lovesick, moonstruck, rendered dumb and speechless by love, just like Brendon was.

Brendon was very amused, flashing Ryan a smile even though he was clearly looking away, unnaturally interested in his book for once. He dived under the water and swam leisurely back to the other side, climbing out, dripping wet, looking around for a towel and then using it to half-ass drying his hair. Still pretty much entirely wet, his even skin slick and reflective from the water that was, admittedly, evaporating fast, he wandered dutifully over to Ryan’s chair and stood in front of him. ”Come in with me, baby.” No response, Ryan just kind of looked at him funny, then went back to reading, obvious suppressing a smile. Brendon didn’t take no for an answer and took the book off Ryan- so surely that he didn’t even have time to react and resist- and moved in, very inconsiderately, to sit on him, legs thrown over one arm rest and his arms wrapped loosely around his husband’s neck. This happened a lot when Brendon wanted attention- which was always. Still soaking, brendon kissed Ryan gently on the neck. ”Hi. I’m your husband, not that book. Love me.”

Since he'd started his career, Ryan had gradually become better at handling anything that would normally send him over the edge with anxiety; stage shows where one hundred things were coordinated to happen at the same time and at the right pace and in a timely manner or else everything was ruined tended to prepare you for most every high-stress situation that a normal person could stumble into. That paired with being incredibly young and naïve heightened matters, and everything else that followed, too, like the financial burden when even their semi-successful music could not make ends meet, or the separation from family, or the worry that all of this was wrong and maybe he should've chosen a normal career path instead of one that was incredibly unreliable, tried and tested so by millions of people before him. So. He was better than ever at dealing with nerves, yeah. It went without saying that these days not much swayed him, moreso little things like, dunno, making eye contact with a stranger. Strange how things worked that way.

Because it was basically as big a ceremony as yet another huge show, and he even had Brendon on his side and all of their friends before him, you'd think the wedding would be less nervewracking - and yet, there Ryan was, slightly shaking the entire time he clutched Brendon's hands before the audience they'd amassed. Maybe that was the difference. When Brendon proposed and they were in virtually the same position, he didn't feel anything close to anxiety, but in front of other people saying all of the same words, just more practiced and rehearsed, he couldn't cope as well. And that was exactly why he was marrying him, anyway: Brendon was the person who changed it all. Easy to be around, made it easier to be around anyone else, basically fixed him. It sounded cliché, stereotypical, even a little cringey, but he honestly had nothing but Brendon to account for his ongoing story of personal improvement.

Anyway - it was a good kind of anxiety. The kind where he felt so choked up excited he thought he couldn't get enough air, the kind where he felt this building anticipation that sent him on his toes, the kind where he looked at Brendon and lost all sense of coherency because he knew this was what made their famed 'forever' official. He could hardly speak. Whereas Brendon delivered as beautiful a speech in his vows as his proposal was, baring his heart for not just him but everyone else they knew because evidently the vulnerability wasn't scary up there, Ryan could only summarize. He had whole journals and online entries and sticky note musings that could be gathered up and condensed into real vows, sure, but Ryan wasn't ready to talk for so long about someone who'd become a large part of every fibre of his own being, souls interwoven, or at least not in front of everyone who'd barely grasp it anyway. That's what it felt like - no matter how hard he tried, put his language mastery to use, it seemed like he would never be able to communicate exactly what he and Brendon had, and even if he came close no one past, present, or future would ever be able to relate on the same level.

A little dramatic, sure, but instead of saying any of that and revealing quite how ridiculous his thought process was, Ryan boiled down everything he desperately wanted to say into an intricate little web of words, not much but expansive enough. Lucky for him he was marrying probably the most understanding man in the world, so. Brendon didn't look too hurt by the short and sweet rendition of things he could fill whole nights telling him. He did cry, though, somewhat worrying because that, like, never happened, and the last time Ryan remembered it had to a serious extent nearly spelled the end of their relationship. Funny how things turned out - now the situation was the exact opposite, and now Ryan could wipe away his tears without it feeling wrong, could tangle bodily with him right after before they had to break away to find the reception. And, of course, Brendon had to perfect things even more with a song he'd written just for them, just for this, and nearly got him crying, too. Ryan swore that was the plan, honestly. Either way, they didn't ever part that night, and Ryan never stopped hearing that song in his head, the way Brendon's voice had never sounded so confident and strong.

Years into as successful careers as theirs, of course they could afford something totally unnecessary and beyond what they'd usually spend their money on. Cape Town was a dream. And it was meant for Brendon, as odd as that sounded; Ryan only ever envisioned him soaked with sunlight whenever they entertained the idea of a holiday, so of course their honeymoon had to be someplace that'd keep him glowing, where he could run to the beach whenever he wanted, where he had as much freedom as he could possibly get. More than the honeymoon was for them as a couple, Ryan truthfully just wanted to ensure Brendon was getting the absolute best destination possible. And, apparently, one where he could constantly be nearly-nude was that. It worked - Brendon enjoyed his vacation from clothes, and Ryan, more of a homebody, knew Brendon was his home anyway and enjoyed staring ninety percent of the time. Claiming to be reading, of course. Because he wasn't so obvious.

Lying there with a halo in her hair she cried... Of course Brendon had their own music on his shuffle. Ryan smiled at the book he'd been skimming the words to inattentively, simultaneously nostalgic and amused that it was playing at all, then glanced at Brendon once he felt his prodding. His sunglasses were lifted up to rest in his hair and this was the first time Ryan had seen his face in a minute; despite seeing it daily he still looked overly fond for half a second, drawn by the way he glowed in the light again. This sounds familiar. "Right?" Agreeably, Ryan tilted his head in time with Brendon, grinning at him a little sideways. Brendon probably sensed his distaste for hearing his own work (though he didn't mind nearly as much as he would if he was still singing), because he rose to turn it off, and Ryan planted his hand over his page absently to watch. That’s a good song, though. Heard some guy wrote it about him and his boyfriend. While Brendon turned, Ryan looked considering again, shrugging a shoulder. "Interesting. I hope they ended up getting married. Seems like he was pretty happy," he mused, playing along.

Seconds later Brendon was at the edge of the pool again, sliding into the water smoothly, instantly shining in the light again and such a picture of serene that Ryan forgot to look back down at his book. He watched him tilt back to face the sky, leaned nonchalant against the side of the water, thinking mostly about how he was the luckiest motherfucker alive to be spending a honeymoon in Cape Town with Brendon of all people. Evidently he admired for too long, because Brendon returned to his immediate surroundings and opened his eyes to meet Ryan's. He practically scrambled to recalibrate, shoving a hand through his hair while he looked back down at what was definitely a totally different page than what he'd been reading before. Or maybe he'd just, like, completely forgotten what this book was about. Yeah, that seemed pretty likely. Ryan tried to look busy, like he hadn't been staring uselessly, cradling his jaw in his hand and placing his elbow on an armrest.

As if that was his cue, Brendon took a moment to dive under and return closer to him again, dripping incessantly once he was back out of the water. Ryan timed his glances up carefully to register that Brendon had found a towel and sort of dried his hair, would probably have protested him remaining that wet whilst being so close to him and his book if the sun didn't tend to instantly help dry him anyway. When he could sneak a glance up again, Brendon was standing before him, like he was on a mission. Come in with me, baby. Funny joke. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him and quirked his lips a little, but otherwise just looked back at his book, still trying to figure out what the hell he'd blanked on. Turns out it didn't matter anyway, because in no time Brendon was taking it from his hands with surety he couldn't dodge away from, and Ryan watched with withheld surprise as Brendon climbed over to sit with him. Although the intrusion was certainly rude, Ryan naturally caught him anyway, wrapping one arm around his waist once his arms were thrown around his neck and letting the other hang over the side of his chair.

He opened his mouth to protest this somehow, but Brendon pressed a kiss to his neck, so charmingly that Ryan remained silent without meaning to. Hi. I’m your husband, not that book. Love me. Ryan paused, stuck in his gaze, pressing his fingers against Brendon's back like the beginnings of a lazy massage. "You're right," he said after a moment, looking apologetic as ever. Actually, he faked a short innocence act, made to look like he was holding Brendon tighter in an embrace. His free arm joined the other around Brendon, carrying him when he abruptly stood and went to the edge of the pool. Lucky Brendon was pretty goddamn tiny anyway, because he could still stop there and kiss him quick before letting both of them drop into the water, keeping his arms around Brendon while water splashed around them. He walked them along at a leisurely pace, one hand raising to hold the back of Brendon's head, a grin spreading across his face again. "How about that? Sorry about the book. Thought it was a pretty good cover for me staring at you all day." While he absently pushed Brendon's hair back into place and smoothed it down, he tossed his own back, or at least made an effort in vain to shake it from his eyes.

Brendon knew from the first moment he started considering the possibility of the two of them wedding and tying the metaphorical knot that Ryan would not be comfortable with baring his heart for the whole world to see- and though it wasn’t even the whole world, really, it was just their friends, maybe some friends of friends- but to someone like Ryan, it would be. And Brendon was okay with that. Brendon didn’t need to hear it all in some grand speech at the altar- in fact, that would feel wrong coming from Ryan, the hopeless romantic who, rather aptly, always chewed up the only words he ever really meant. Brendon knew that Ryan loved him with his entire being, he didn’t need to be told in front of an audience- he didn’t even need to be told at all. Their strongest mutual confessions of love came along with the littlest things- Brendon resting his hand on Ryan’s thigh when he was driving (usually never the other way around, mostly because of Ryan’s half-recommendation, half-commandment, and Brendon’s awful driving) and Ryan resting his hand on top of that whenever he could; gentle kisses in the morning along skin bathed by the early golden glow of the sun; featherlight caresses of the jaw and cheek and gentle kisses to the corner of the mouth; embraces from behind, arms wrapped firmly around the waist and slow, familiar kisses pressed along the neck. They could be curled up, watching a movie, and Brendon could drift off. Ryan wouldn’t wake him, or even try to move. He’d stay with him until morning.

Brendon was a fan of grand gestures, like an elaborate ceremony, because he was romantic and exuberant and one might think those qualities would make an excellent wedding planner. Those traits, though, coupled with hyperactivity and a very short attention span, spelled otherwise, so Brendon provided a lot of the creative input, and Ryan’s job was sorting all of the business and technical side out and making sure Brendon’s vision was translated into real life. And it was. The ceremony was perfect- Ryan had given a sweet, concise and very short insight into their perfect little world, and Brendon knew there was so much he meant behind that that nobody else in the audience could even try to pick up on- and Brendon had, naturally, been a little more elaborate, his voice soft but more stable, sure of every word he said and by the end of it sounding longing, wistful, like he wished he could stay up there forever just telling Ryan exactly what he meant to him. But some emotions were so strong that they couldn’t be expressed by words alone, or even actions. So, he used his sweet speech and coupled it with a chaste, brief kiss at the altar, hoping the simplicity of it made it easy for Ryan to understand that Brendon loved him for than anything else in the world. The weight of that hit him first when he was standing there, gazing at the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, and second when they had a brief moment of privacy after the ceremony and before the party to tangle together and make sure neither of them cried. That would be embarrassing.

So, there it was, the happiest day of their lives so far. When Brendon thought about it, he wasn’t sure why— they’d told eachother they loved eachother and kissed a thousand times before- but this whole marriage thing really was something. For a while, it had been more of a technical leap, the natural and almost compulsory next step of their relationship. Now, it was something more intimate, it spoke for something more, and Brendon was in love with love and everything about it. He got to call Ryan his husband- people called Ryan Me Blake, he couldn’t get over that- he woke up and next to him in bed lay his husband, his lover, his soulmate, and sometimes it overwhelmed him. But in the end, the truest love he felt was a soft, gentle feeling settling in his entire body, deep and resounding, from his heart and his gut all the way to the ends of his fingers. Love was a soft thing, he found, it wasn’t all passion and fire and grand gestures and intensity. The strongest love was feeling just as strong for someone when they were at their worst as when they were at their best. Love was an emotion just as fierce for someone when they were lazing around the house in their pyjamas as when they were dressed up perfectly in a suit. It was wonderful, and gentle, and Brendon couldn’t get enough of it. He couldn’t get enough of Ryan.

Luckily, he had their honeymoon to spend an extended period of time with his favourite person, uninterrupted, unhindered by responsibilities, in gorgeous Cape Town, in a Villa right by the sea. So, maybe it was a bit excessive- but they could afford it, so what did it matter? Brendon spent whole days just drifting around the pool, or stretched out on a deck chair, Ryan nearby at all times apparently reading this book that he’d been on the same page in for the last week or so. He thought he was slick. They were sitting close by the pool right then, listening to music quietly playing on shuffle, and Brendon rose to turn it off because he intended on catching his husband’s attention. Interesting. I hope they ended up getting married. Seems like he was pretty happy. Brendon grinned, charmed. ”I hope so.” He then crossed over to the edge of the pool and slipped into the water, and Ryan was definitely staring at him, was he really dumb enough to think that Brendon didn’t notice? He spent a very short time swimming from one end to the next and then figured run wouldn’t come in without coaxing, so he climbed back out, and headed over to disturb Ryan’s ‘reading’. They automatically relaxed together, and Brendon kissed his neck gently, almost apologetic for taking his book and getting him a little wet, but not really.

You’re right. Brendon nodded, confident and sure. ”I am. I’m also pretty. Look at me.” He turned Ryan’s head and kissed him just as Ryan held onto him tighter, and he intended to pull back to speak but he was rendered silent with surprise for a moment when Ryan abruptly stood up, Brendon still in his arms. He felt himself melt a little, pausing and letting his eyelids drop, looking up at him. ”I think I just fell in love with you again.” Well, maybe he jumped the gun a little there, because moments later, Ryan kissed him quick and then suddenly they were both in the water and Brendons eyes widened, clinging onto him, arms around his neck and his legs wrapping automatically around his waist like some kind of lemur. He closed his eyes and slowly opened them again. ”Y’know, you’re evil. But at least you’re in the pool now.” He ran his hands through his own damp hair and then draped his arms again over Ryan’s shoulders. How about that? Sorry about the book. Brendon offered him a shrug, pressing a few absent kisses along the side of his face. ”I just hope it was a good one.”

Thought it was a pretty good cover for me staring at you all day. Well, at least he was honest- but it wasn’t like Brendon already knew that this same dumb book had been Ryan’s cover the entire time they’d been at Cape Town. Brendon wasn’t as oblivious as he seemed, especially when it came to Ryan’s habits. He tilted his head, though, as if considering the ‘reveal’ that Ryan’s only real interest so far on their honeymoon had been Brendon and not some probably average book (everything that wasn’t Ryan’s writing was average to Brendon at this point), and then graced him simply with a kiss, smiling against his mouth before drawing back to frame his face with his hands. ”Why have you been staring at me?” A baited question. Brendon admittedly didn’t mind excessive compliments. It wasn’t a secret. ”And, what are your plans for this evening? It’s getting on in the afternoon.”

Perhaps the reason this relationship worked so well (the best he'd ever had, obviously, otherwise Ryan wouldn't have literally married him) was the fact that there was confidence in it. Saying 'I love you' aloud at this point was pretty much a formality. They understood each other and their gestures so well that love was written in everything; every touch, every breath, every shared space... He was lucky, to say the least, because even the wedding ceremony was more of a gesture than much else, a time for them to parade the other around and have their dance and eat insane amounts of cake. If he'd given no vows Brendon would still have gotten the message, likely, and that was kind of the best thing to ask for when applied to their day-to-day life considering Ryan absolutely fumbled anything he didn't get to write on paper first. Well- write on paper, then proofread, then draft again, then edit, so on. His first tries were rarely anything impressive, as such an iterative person. Because of Brendon's constant patience, he didn't need to try so much anyway. Needless to say it saved him a lot of energy and anxiety.

So their honeymoon was, naturally, just as easy and effortless for them, nothing they had to work for to enjoy; while other couples might've built some crazy activity schedule or actually needed the ridiculous villa they'd ended up in to stand each other, Brendon and Ryan were fine spending days in and days out doing absolutely nothing with one another, and they'd be just as fine in, like, a shoddy tent, or something. Just as long as both of them were there. I am. I’m also pretty. Look at me. As if he hadn't already been looking. Ryan followed his guiding hand without qualms, kissing him back gently and letting his embrace grow more firm around Brendon. Maybe he should feel a little bad about definitely planning to drop him back into the pool to mess with him, but. Ryan guessed this was the start to a whole life of ruthlessly teasing his husband, all because he was very cute whenever it happened regardless of which exact reaction he landed on.

Brendon barely suspected a thing when he first stood, though, so he caught a break at least in the beginning, charmed by just being held. I think I just fell in love with you again. Aw. Ryan smiled at him, totally trustworthy, just before granting him a final almost-apologetic kiss and sending them both into the water, resounding currents lapping around them. He felt Brendon cling even tighter for safety and Ryan sort of laughed at him but still held him closer to reassure him all was fine, one hand rising to cradle the base of his skull, pressing a very soaked kiss to his forehead when he shut his eyes. Y’know, you’re evil. But at least you’re in the pool now. Ryan raised one shoulder, nonchalant. "'Evil' sounds about right." He laughed, though, walking them through the water at a leisurely pace, more into the sun, watching it reflect off Brendon's skin, illuminate his eyes until they were similar to Ryan's own bizarre honey hue. He leaned into him, drawn by the garden of kisses Brendon was planting alongside his face.

I just hope it was a good one. "I have no idea," he mumbled, in regards to the book, and was vaguely amused. It's not like he ever actually read the thing. Or the summary on the back, or even remembered what the cover looked like. Yeah, he'd sort of been preoccupied. Why have you been staring at me? Ryan arched an eyebrow, reading his mind and figuring he didn't really mind giving Brendon three million compliments within a two minute timespan anyway. So he hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze to the sky as if he really had to think about it. "Have you seen you shirtless?" Ryan grinned at him, cheeky, his fingers finding his hair and absently combing through while he spoke. "The whole 'sun and moon' analogy really comes to life when we're actually in the sun, I'll have you know. It's like you can actually glow. Really, I'm kind of sorry for you, that you can't watch you." Ryan actually did look a little sorry, tilting his head to the side and making a grievous sound, sucking his teeth.

And, what are your plans for this evening? It’s getting on in the afternoon. Again Ryan looked dubious. Was it not obvious? "I thought it was sort of implied that I'd just be staring, whatever you do," he joked, then swung them a little, thinking. "Dunno. Maybe I'll get a tan." Ryan cracked up a little, because the thought was sort of ridiculous - and besides all he'd gotten thus far was a little pink blush across his nose, cheekbones, too faint to look like it was anything but him being embarrassed. "Why, have something in mind for us?" Ryan raised his eyebrows, almost suggestively except for that he kind of never was - it was just his version of earnestness.