Brendon toured so much now that Ryan couldn’t come with him everywhere all the time, which was unfortunate for them, but it only meant Brendon was wildly successful as he should be, so Ryan wasn’t too hurt by it. Well - yes, it fucking sucked all the time and he always wished Brendon were around, but the fact that he was doing what he loved and so many people loved him right back, yeah, that was cool. But Ryan was nothing if not ambitious, so when he got the opportunity (and the ‘yeah fine whatever’ from Brendon’s security), he always flew out to meet Brendon on tour. These times were few and far between, and every time, he conveniently forgot to warn Brendon about it. The face he made when he saw Ryan standing sidestage, endlessly proud of him, so unexpected, that never got old.

Something different always happened, because Brendon liked to surprise him right back, and one night in particular Brendon pulled him on stage with pride flags thrown over his shoulders or just barely hooked on one or caped over his back - he got an insane amount, too many to fit on him. He sang the crowd-coined anthem’s chorus to Ryan, a colorful arm around his shoulders like a protective wing, and Ryan couldn’t do anything but stand there and be in love like an idiot, probably with hearts floating over his head or some stupid thing like that - it felt like it anyway. It was a dream. Here he was, in front of thousands, all singing word-for-word along with Brendon, the man he loved, who worked so hard for this, who was so fucking magical and inviting him in on that magic. Ryan was unbelievably lucky.

Except they were sort of in trouble for all that. The day after, Zack approached him and let him know that, yeah, he was being more distracting than usual, and yeah, he had to get out tonight. Maybe a kiss good luck and all, but nothing more. So Ryan, naturally, snuck into Brendon’s dressing room, tried to break those rules by initiating anything more, got caught, and was promptly kicked out. Well. He could watch via some random fans’ Instagrams, then, fine. He managed to fit in a strong four kisses and a rushed ‘okayhaveagoodnightIloveyou’ before Zack was actually physically removing him from the premises... and Brendon had only been gone for a week or so beforehand. This was going to be a long first leg.

Ryan’s choice of what to waste his time with was, uncharacteristically, to go out and drink. He wasn’t opposed to it, he just didn’t do it often, especially not without Brendon. Regardless, he headed out after moping around for a minute about being kicked out, taking a cab off to “whichever bar’s nearest” and landing at a fairly midscale one a few blocks away. You’d think he’d be bored. Ryan, however, the lightest of weights, had two shots and was suddenly very entertained by the game on the TV, turned fully in his seat while he kept the shots coming and nursed a few beers between them. An hour into this, he was a far cry from the picture of stressed blue-collar workers sitting at the bar and in booths throughout - he was actually completely relaxed against the wall to his right, eyes on the television across the room, and looked entirely content with the situation he’d found himself in.

Three notifications sounded at once from his phone and he took a whole two minutes to dig his phone from his pocket and drop it onto the bar, lean over it, and squint to read the messages. From Zack: Okay, show’s ending. Fifteen minutes ago, just delivered. Where are you? Ten minutes ago... and then a missed call. Ryan stared for a second then tried to press on the missed call and unlock his phone, to no avail. When it proved too difficult a feat, he huffed helplessly, sitting back against the wall again and waiting for the next call that arrived three minutes later. ”Hm,” he mumbled in his effort to say hello, and Zack immediately replied. ”Are you drunk?” Ryan paused, actually thought about it. ”Not the drunkest I’ve ever been.” There was a long pause while Zack processed this absolutely useless information. ”...okay. Where are you?” Ryan sucked in a heavy, labored breath, and then leaned over the bar, stretching his arm over to get the bartender’s attention. ”Hey, where am I?”

A moment after speaking to the very unimpressed bartender and passing on this newfound information, Zack hung up without another word, and Ryan received a text from him ten minutes later stating simply ‘come outside.’ So, he did. Zack was ready to catch him right out the door and lead him to a very familiar looking black car, guiding him into the backseat and shutting the door for him before heading back to the passenger’s seat. Ryan had his eyes closed pretty much the entire time. As soon as the door shut he started leaning into it, not bothering with his seatbelt, pressing his face against the cold window. ”Where are we going? I’m going to sleep,” he murmured, quickly losing interest in the answer to his question and snuggling up against the door.

Yeah, it sucked that Brendon couldn’t be with his boyfriend all the time, and he made that very clear during every single show where he stopped for a few seconds to talk about how he missed home, how many shows they’d done, how many were left. It was just fortunate for him that his security thought Ryan was harmless enough that he could be allowed pretty much wherever he pleased- well, the harmlessness, and the fact he and the frontman of the band were an item, and Ryan used to be the guitarist for said band. He still held onto some of those privileges and he sometimes fooled new crew members into thinking he was still part of it, Brendon had been told. He found it likely; he figured if some interns couldn’t even spell his name correctly, there would be some rookies who weren’t even sure of the lineup. Anyway, Ryan had free roam- almost. The night previous Brendon had impulsively brought him up onto the stage for one of the most meaningful parts of the show, where he draped himself in colourful pride flags and the fans shone their phone flashlights through the coloured hearts, all of that. It was an ecstatic moment, but Zack seemed to think it had diverted too much from the strict plan, so for the next show Ryan wasn’t allowed near him at all, save to say goodbye and good luck before the show.

Of course, they were both stubbornly obsessed with eachother so it was difficult to keep them apart- eventually, after they were discovered rendezvousing in Brendon’s dressing room when he was supposed to be, y’know, getting dressed, Zack physically removes Ryan from the premises and when he came back he told Brendon that he’d instructed Ryan to go entertain himself some other way. Though Brendon missed him, and regretful that they only managed to steal a few kisses before they had been tragically forced apart, he was amused by it all, and just smiled and shook his head. The question was- would Ryan be able to entertain himself for that long? God knows what he was out doing. Brendon’s best bet was that he just went back to the buses- or the hotel, Brendon couldn’t remember where they were sleeping tonight- And was either asleep or reading something, maybe absently scrolling through his phone. He wasn’t sure. Either way, there wasn’t much time free for Brendon to think about that- the show was about to start and though he thought fondly of his love during associated songs like death of a bachelor and nine in the afternoon, for the most part he was fully in show mode.

As such, he didn’t even think about Ryan again until he’d finished the final song, picked up his discarded t-shirt and walked off stage back to his dressing room. Only then did he notice that Ryan wasn’t around waiting for him as he kind of expected, believing that Zack would cave and let him wait around towards the end of the show. But Ryan wasn’t there, so he sought out Zack and asked him about his whereabouts- Zack didn’t know either. Brendon wasn’t worried. He was probably asleep or something, that’s why he didn’t answer his phone when Zack texted him or called for the first time. Just in case, though, after he’d very quickly showered and changed into fresh clothes, he waited while Zack called for the second time and listened when Ryan finally picked up. All he heard at first was an unintelligible mumble, and Zack immediately asked him if he was drunk. The corners of Brendon’s mouth pulled up into a disbelieving smile- if he was, the rest of tonight was going to be fun. Ryan didn’t get drunk often so Brendon relished the chance to see it and tease him about it. Not the drunkest I’ve ever been. Brendon stifled a laugh, thought back to the drunkest Ryan had ever been and raised his eyebrows. The bar was pretty high there, so it was likely that his lightweight boyfriend was fucking wasted. Cute. ”Dumbass,” He shouted, hoping the receiver picked it up.

Zack paused and then asked where he was. Brendon followed him as he went towards their driver and stood by as his bodyguard instructed them where to go to pick up a lost Ryan. Clearly he was past it, because he heard him asking someone else where he was. Honestly. And he called Brendon that one that was hard to control. Leave Ryan alone for three, four hours, and this happened. Increasingly amused by the way events were playing out, he got into the back of the car and Zack got into the passenger seat, before they headed off to the random bar that Ryan had found himself in. Ten minutes later, they stopped outside some decent-looking place and Brendon was about to get out of the car but Zack said he had it handled so Brendon shrugged and settled back down. He supposed it would be more difficult for him, who was dismally little, to drag a much taller and reasonably stronger man out of a bar and bundle him into a car. He watched the door and a few moments later Zack re-emerged with a... dishevelled looking Ryan in tow. Brendon couldn’t help but grin wildly and expected a greeting when Ryan got inside, but he was turned fully the other way, staring at the window. Okay, rude. ”Dude, this is why y’should’ve let him stay.”

Where are we going? Brendon paused, looked him up and down. He was such a mess. Brendon loved him so much. He was trying hard not to beam with affection so he suppressed it and prodded him in the side, trying to get his attention. ”Hotel. Hi, by the way,” He said loudly. ”Good to see you too, handsome.” Leaning over, He fastened Ryan’s seatbelt and smoothed a hand over his chest. Idiot. I’m going to sleep. Huh. The ‘caring boyfriend’ part of him was relieved, Ryan needed to sleep this off. The ‘amused bastard’ part of him wanted Ryan to stay awake so he could have further entertainment. The latter won over the former and he leaned in, anticipating kissing him. ”Not on my watch.”

The good news was, Ryan was a very good-natured drunk. He was affectionate, sometimes too much so, and everything was suddenly one hundred times funnier with just a single shot. That is, until he fell asleep. Ryan was the type to find some public place to curl up in and pass out whenever the opportunity presented itself - surprising, actually, that he didn’t end up doing that before Zack got a hold of him. The bar had begun looking increasingly comfy. And everyone he knew was across the country, obviously not touring, or on stage/backstage, where he was strictly prohibited from entering as The Distracting Boyfriend. The Nuisance Who Can Somehow Take Brendon Away From His Beloved Work (Accidentally). Really, it was nice to know he had enough allure to actually be kicked out of there simply to avoid taking Brendon off track - even if it was just a ‘harmless five minutes.’

How could he help it? It’s not like Ryan was going to not tag along once in a while. It’s not like he was going to not stride backstage to his dressing room with a purpose whenever he got the chance and was unattended by controlling staff. And it’s not like he was going to ignore the perfect opportunities to have a makeout session and/or beyond when they could quite clearly hear the countdown of ‘ten minutes... five minutes... has anyone seen Brendon?… where’s our fucking frontman,’ so forth. Okay - maybe his timing was bad, but Brendon was busy, and he was so, so endlessly pretty. When Ryan had time with him on tour he used it wisely. They act like they’d never see each other again, or it seems that way from a third person’s perspective; why not just wait until Brendon’s home? Why not just see him after the show? Well. To that, Ryan guessed it was a ‘good luck’ type thing. Apparently his own luck had run out tonight.

Anyway. Yes, he was lonely, so getting drunk - and definitely not in a sad way, because as much as it sucks, he was revelling in the fact that he had a ripple effect - was his solution. By the end of the night Zack was the one texting him, because, Ryan knew, there were countless obstacles between Brendon and his dressing room, plus all of his belongings. His phone may have been perpetually buzzing in said empty room with heart emojis and variations of misspelled ‘I love you’s between the hours of ten p.m. to eleven p.m., but that was none of Ryan’s business, and frankly he had no memory of any involvement. When Zack did reach him he’d forgotten that it was possible to maybe say ‘can I talk to my boyfriend,’ or even registered that he was within a one mile radius of Brendon at most. Something in his brain had completely dropped the knowledge that he’d closed the touring gap between them at least for a little while, stuck believing that he was still way out of reach.

Dumbass, came a voice from the other end, and, for a moment, Ryan was offended, before the low tone came to him as Brendon’s. ”Aw,” he hummed into the receiver, clearly still not connecting the dots, but before he could comment on his boyfriend’s whereabouts Zack was questioning his own. He figured it out and in no time Zack was there, beyond tall and somehow strong enough to half-or-maybe-fully carry him to the car. Immediately he let his cheek slump against the window. Dude, this is why y’should’ve let him stay. At the bar? Yes. Let’s turn around. But, the lights along the street were moving in a blur, and suddenly Ryan really didn’t want a drink. Evidently since the phone call his alcohol had settled in more (and he’d finished whatever was left, it seems), and now nothing made sense at all and he was... floaty, for lack of a better word. A great night if he’d ever seen one.

Ryan was almost peaceful, focusing on not being sick and maybe falling asleep, when he felt someone poking his side. Hotel. Hi, by the way. ”Loud,” Ryan commented, sounding fairly affronted by this obvious stranger’s volume. Good to see you too, handsome. Ryan opened his eyes and bobbed his head to the side to look at Loud, but he couldn’t focus, everything sliding to the right in his vision even though he was sure his head was still. He felt something taper over him and a click and then - a hand against his chest. Ryan put his own over it, intending to grab it, pull it away. As it were, he simply rested there for a second, on pause. He was ready to pass the fuck out. Not on my watch. ”Whoa, hey.” Ryan sprung to action, pushing the hand back to its owner while he firmly pressed against the car door to avoid an incoming kiss. ”I have a boyfriend.”

Less affectionately than Brendon had, Ryan pressed his hand against his chest to push him away, probably way gentler than he’d intended to be but his strength reserves were past empty, apparently. He heard what sounded like maybe a laugh from Zack upfront, but brushed it aside. This was serious. ”He’s famous, so you better... be careful. I’m spoken for.” He was already closing his eyes, resting against the window again.

When Zack has told him that he and the rest of the crew had decided to kick Ryan out long before the show even started, Brendon had whined his complaints, argued that Ryan didn’t distract him, they just hung out, he was never late to go on stage- but the show previous they’d been recklessly hooking up during the damn countdown and that was all the evidence the crew needed to confirm that Brendon and Ryan were incapable of keeping their hands off eachother while they were alone for longer than, like, two minutes. So Brendon had nothing to stand on. After a while of just grumbling, he sought out Ryan, told him the bad news, and they managed a brief, public defiant kiss before Zack was hauling his very reluctant boyfriend out into the street. Honestly, it was embarrassing- they could be decent, they weren’t animals. It had just kind of become ritual at this point- even when Ryan was still in the band, they had a reputation for holding everyone up while they were busy making out in the dressing room, or something. Huh, so maybe Zack had a point.

Once Brendon had finished the show and bounded backstage, running entirely on adrenaline, he immediately dug his phone out from under piles of clothes and checked it- predictably, most of his notifications were texts from Ryan. He predicted from the poor spelling and persistence of his messages that Ryan was more than a little tipsy, and he was frankly excited to see that. It wasn’t often that Ryan became that undone- usually he was the one looking after a drunk Brendon who could barely stand up. Once he answered his phone and Zack located him, Brendon quickly got changed into something warmer (it had been really hot inside the stadium when he’d been sweating excessively but once he stepped out into the night it was freezing) and then climbed into the car, texting Ryan a simple ‘I love you too’ and then waiting for ten minutes until they pulled up outside the bar. Zack had quickly headed inside to receive their package and moments later his baby was curled up against the window in some kind of state, and Brendon was both endeared and amused, looking forward to making fun of him the following morning.

Though it was funny, he was still a mess, and Brendon reproachfully muttered that it would have been easier for everyone if they’d just let Ryan stay. So what if they spent some valuable time fooling around when Brendon should be getting ready? The shows were always incredible. Zack was just a control freak. Anyway. He wasn’t too bothered so he dropped it and then leaned over to make sure Ryan was fastened in when he clearly couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do it himself. Loud. Brendon grinned as he slid his hand affectionately down Ryan’s chest. ”Sorry, baby,” He said soothingly, but it wasn’t as sympathetic as Ryan maybe would have liked. When he met Ryan’s eyes he could tell he wasn’t fully with it but he leaned in anyway to steal a kiss, a little deprived after hours of being apart from him. Yeah, Ryan was drunk, but what he didn’t expect was for his usually devoted boyfriend to both curl his hand restrictively around Brendon’s, and then pull back violently in response to Brendon leaning in. He was stunned.

Woah, hey. Hey what? Brendon paused, baffled, and then pulled back, extremely affronted. His lips were parted and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His mind began to race- had he done anything wrong? Had he not argued enough against Ryan being kicked out? He was lost. And kind of annoyed. But Ryan was drunk, he tried not to look too upset. I have a boyfriend. ”Wh-” Brendon’s eyebrows raised and it took him another few moments before he realised what was happening here. Ryan didn’t even know who he was. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that Ryan was so violently rejecting someone he assumed to be a stranger, or offended that he didn’t even recognise his own lover. Honestly. What a state. Still, Brendon was less annoyed, now, having been provided an explanation, and he sat back, pursing his lips. Oh really,” He said dryly, looking down at Ryan’s hand when he pressed it against his chest to push him away. What a dumbass.

Still, this could be a good opportunity. Brendon’s apprehensive grimace fell away into a mischievous smile. ”What a lucky boy.” Zack laughed. Brendon shot him a glare. This was not helping his ego. He’s famous, so you better... be careful. I’m spoken for. Brendon stifled a laugh and leaned back against his side of the car, letting his head fall against the window. ”Famous? That’s dope, dude.” A pause, he tilted his head as if extremely interested. He wanted to see what he could get an intoxicated Ryan to say about him when he didn’t think that- Brendon was the real him. This could be a fascinating insight. ”What’s he like, then? Is he pretty?”

Sorry, baby. Sounded just like what Brendon called him. Ryan sighed inwardly; if only he wasn’t across the country, or whereever... alas. Here he was, with Brendon directly to his left, and yet a drunken overcast that kept him both from being able to see straight and without complete blurriness, so he simply had to wish his boyfriend was here. In the backseat of this fancy car, with a driver and Zack right in front, preferably making out with him, or something. Knowing drunk Ryan, he would probably take that several levels further, but it’s not like any Brendon, sober or drunk, would take issue with that. They were sort of on the same level, as far as intoxicated behaviors went: both happy, giggly drunks, with a penchant for public displays of affection and maybe speaking their minds a little too much. Basically, boundaries disappeared. It was better than being the angry or melancholy type, at least.

This ‘stranger’ seemed surprised by the fact that Ryan vehemently turned down his kiss, and to that he wondered what the hell they were expecting. For him to cheat on his boyfriend? Mind you, a boyfriend far out of his league and therefore one he was way too lucky to have? No. Should’ve seen Ryan’s reaction when he got a simple response text from Brendon earlier: I love you too. He just about lost it. Wh- Ryan tried to look at him very seriously, but his vision was so unfocused that he ended up losing concentration, gaze drifting off to the window past Brendon’s shoulder. Hmm. He was losing interest surprisingly fast, or maybe just forgetting the conversation as it was happening. Oh really. Yes, really. ”Yes, really.” Ryan took his hand off of his chest before it could be misconstrued as something affectionate, ‘cause yes, he really did have a boyfriend, who he missed dearly.

What a lucky boy. Ryan considered that for a moment. A compliment, but he disagreed. Brendon could pretty much pick and choose anyone he wanted, and yet... Famous? That’s dope, dude. Ryan sighed longingly, letting his own head bob back against the window, mirroring Brendon without meaning to. ”Yeah,” he said distantly, busy remembering his far away boyfriend. ”That’s how he talks. I love that.” Ryan shut his eyes, prepared to fall asleep comfortably with Brendon on his mind. What’s he like, then? Is he pretty? Ryan was almost annoyed by the premise of having to talk again, what with this guy contantly interrupting his train of thought, and then he realized the opportunity to gush about his favorite person in the world. He opened his eyes, rummaging through his pockets for his phone, his disengaged limbs moving like he was in quicksand.

Ryan got a grasp on his phone finally, then leaned over slightly, slumping almost into the space of the middle seat. ”Pretty. He’s fucking- he’s the hottest man alive, I’m telling you. I first saw him, and I swear...” Ryan trailed off, holding his hand against the cushion of the center seat, phone screen facing up. He pressed the home button, revealing a screen full of notifications from Zack, one from Brendon, and in the background, Brendon and Ryan themselves. ”Look. He’s the... the one on the right.” As if it wasn’t obvious which one wasn’t Ryan. ”You can’t tell from this, ‘cause it’s, like, it’s just us, but if you could see his ass, oh my God.” Zack was sighing from the front seat, the whole situation a lot less funny suddenly. ”He wears these tight jeans that make it so hard not to stare. And, like, think about anything but, you know.” Zack muttered something like ‘we know’ from ahead, and Ryan figured he’d answered the question at least partially, so he continued looking at his lockscreen, enamoured.

Although they probably didn’t see it like that in the moment, Zack and their driver were probably lucky. After all, it could be worse- a) Brendon could be drunk, too, and everyone knew they were barely capable of being appropriate even when they weren’t intoxicated, or b) Ryan could recognise Brendon as his beloved significant other and Brendon would be doing very little to put a stop to his affection. In fact, he’d be encouraging such behaviour. The two of them together at the best of times was completely lawless. So, the two in the front were lucky- but for Brendon, who had missed his boyfriend since he’d been kicked out of the venue, it kind of sucked because Ryan wouldn’t even let him steal a kiss, even if the reasoning was ridiculously sweet and flattering. Look at me, he thought, reproachfully; if you think I’m so pretty how come you don’t even realise who I am? Still, it was endearing. After a moment Brendon realised contentedly that he couldn’t be annoyed about it if he tried; it was all just amusing. Brendon couldn’t wait to inform Ryan of exactly how wasted he was, so wasted that he didn’t realise he was sat in the car next to the love of his life.

Even so, he was surprised and a little disgruntled about that initial rejection, panicking for a split second and worrying he’d done something gravely wrong, somehow. No- Ryan was just a drunk dumbass. Yes, really. Brendon pursed his lips and his eyes followed Ryan’s hand as he removed it from his chest. Then, he tried to make eye contact, but Ryan could barely even think straight, never mind see straight. ”I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one little kiss,” He murmured, because although it was very unlikely Ryan would even entertain that for a second, Brendon was pretty desperate. Quickly giving up and realising that he wouldn’t exactly be very happy if Ryan did kiss somebody he thought wasn’t Brendon, he moved on, choosing to sarcastically compliment him instead- wasn’t he such a lucky guy, the proud partner of someone who didn’t even recognise him. How sweet. Yeah. A small smile crept up to tug at the corner of his mouth. That’s how he talks. I love that. Funny, Ryan always told him it was annoying when he spoke like a ‘straight fuckboy’. This was interesting new information. ”He sounds pretty lame.”

When Brendon tried to amuse himself by asking Ryan if his boyfriend (him) was pretty, he didn’t realise he’d prompt such an animated reaction from a man who was clearly about five seconds from falling asleep at any given moment. As he started to rummage around, Brendon felt a strong impulse to run his fingers through his hair and lean in to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth, but Ryan clearly wasn’t fond of ‘cheating’. How could one be so sweet and so, so stupid? Pretty. Brendon blinked in surprise as Ryan lurched over into the middle seat, shot a hand out to steady him a little. He’s fucking- he’s the hottest man alive, I’m telling you. ...Ryan was never shy with the compliments, but he hadn’t expected such adamancy; not that he was complaining. Brendon never denied an opportunity to have his ego stroked, especially or even specifically by his boyfriend. ”Nah, I’m looking st the hottest man alive right now,” He grinned, again resisting the urge to hold onto his jaw and tilt him into a kiss. I first saw him, and I swear... Whatever Ryan was about to say, Brendon wasn’t convinced in the slightest and he didn’t even have to finish. Casting his thoughts back to have he looked when they met- he was a greasy teenager with an atrocious haircut and the most obnoxious personality on the planet. Then again, Ryan was similar by means of greasiness and haircut quality. So he supposed, to eachother, at the time, they were relatively hot, or something. Brendon didn’t get it. He looked back and was mortified by their collective appearance.

Ryan was thrusting his phone into Brendon’s view and he looked down expectantly at his screen. A picture of the two of them, naturally- a new one, Ryan had clearly recently changed it. Look. He’s the... the one on the right. I’m right here, darling, He thought, nodding slowly in acknowledgment. ”Yup. That’s him.” You can’t tell from this, ‘cause it’s, like, it’s just us, but if you could see his ass, oh my God. Oh. Alright. Zero to a hundred really fast- but Brendon wasn’t complaining, he broke out into a wide grin and raised an eyebrow suggestively, evil little cogs whirring in his mind as he planned out how he was going to exploit Ryan’s currently loose tongue. ”What about it?” He wears these tight jeans that make it so hard not to stare. Brendon knew just the ones and was absolutely delighted- he was even heating up, not because of embarassment because Zack was right fucking there, but because Ryan always managed to make him flustered somehow. And, like, think about anything but, you know. ”Like what?” He asked immediately, fully willing to risk Zack choking him later on.

I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one little kiss. Ryan looked visibly annoyed by now, his brow furrowing and his lips pursing. At least here was an opportunity to show some loyalty, although both of them had no doubts in their mind about it... nor was this intentional whatsoever. Ryan was hardly an actor. ”Even if that was true, I mind.” His usual unhurried way of speaking, calm and vaguely intelligent sounding, was disrupted by the alcohol; he stumbled over his words and merged them together, not quite slurring but clearly trying very hard to remain coherent. If he were sober making this argument to an actual stranger, he’d also like to point out that, nevermind the consequences, he wasn’t even close to interested in cheating. Never had the temptation to, never would. What was there to miss out on when you were with Brendon? He was the definition of ‘full package.’

He sounds pretty lame. Ryan blinked and looked at Brendon again, hardly looking as critical as he meant to. ”You’re lame,” he shot back, as if it was a powerful argument, and as if that wasn’t hilariously ironic. Brendon was right: he was dating a dumbass. A dumbass who clearly had been waiting his whole life to unleash a tangent about Brendon. He leaned over to share and felt the ‘other passenger’ steady him, automatically shrugging him off like he had some kind of contagion. Nah, I’m looking at the hottest man alive right now. Ryan actually managed a real glare that time, sitting up slightly from his awkward slant in the middle seat as if the closeness was what prompted these compliments. Usually he would need the flattery, oftentimes a touch too self-conscious for his own good; now he was just mad about it. Sober Ryan, on the other hand, would have probably pulled Brendon into his lap by now.

He was showing Brendon himself, apparently expecting an outpour of appreciation. Yup. That’s him. Ryan was distracted by his screen for a moment, offhandedly wondering why the hell someone-clearly-not-his-boyfriend wasn’t admiring his boyfriend, before his train of thought switched tracks, running towards, evidently, a more thirsty route. What about it? Ryan had more commentary, endlessly grateful for a question to urge it out. ”I have to walk a couple inches behind him. Even if we’re holding hands. It’s, like... the law. I need the view.” Ryan shut his eyes again, as if he was imagining it, probably looked like he was going to sleep again. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t all that sleepy anymore, at least not as much as he was a minute ago - it seemed the new twist in conversation woke him up more, brought out an unusually talkative side to him.

Like what? Ryan inhaled slowly, literally taking effort, too relaxed to do anything but manually take breaths. ”Like, he wears them on stage... and how am I supposed to fuck him when he’s doing a, like, forever-long show? And he takes his shirt off onstage...” Ryan sighed again, lifting his hand belatedly, moving it lazily in the air for a moment as if he was still talking and needed to gesticulate. ”I want to touch -“ He put his hands up again, finally resting his back on the middle seat, staring at the ceiling at an awkward curve while he over-expressed himself. ”- every inch of him, he looks so fucking good up there, he looks good all the time. On stage, yeah... but also, like... just normally. When we’re running boring errands. Or when he’s just chilling on the couch.” Ryan dropped his hands dramatically, plonking them against the seat and pausing for a moment while he got his thoughts straight. ”I think God made me... and then he was like, you know what... he needs a bottom. So he made Brendon. He’s my other half, man, I love him so much.”

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

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

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

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

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

Surprisingly (or very much not), Ryan was often bad at fully communicating everything he thought, or when he tried without a whole lot of preparation or speaking carefully, slow, it didn’t meet his high standards. Even so, there was a rather small list of ‘allowed topics’ he could openly talk about, specifically his own feelings on the matter. Unfortunately for Brendon, Ryan couldn’t get past maybe a couple lines of dirty talk, of any kind, before he was awkward and sheepish (moreso than usual, but this was to a point where it was so cringey it hurt to listen to him try to talk enticingly). He could write songs about his love for him, too, but then when he tried to put it into practice in the moment, say something - something sounding exaggerated, but was so true - to his face when they were anywhere but comfortably alone in each other’s arms he’d stammer and hate the way the words came out instantly. He was incredibly specific, concise, but it didn’t come naturally.

So it made sense that, all inhibitions cast aside by even a little alcohol, he did not care whatsoever how he sounded. Nor could he even recognise how ridiculous some of the thing coming out of his mouth were. They were his true feelings, stuff he completely meant, but not the type of thing Ryan would be saying to someone he (thought he) didn’t even know. He could try his best with Brendon, maybe, but not come close to the brutal honesty drunk Ryan was apparently so intent on sharing with a full car of people. In truth, it wasn’t the fact that it was Brendon or anyone listening, whenever he was sober and anxiety overtook him. Ryan was mostly afraid of sounding stupid, funnily enough. He hadn’t quite mastered the art of “owning it,” in any given situation, even apart from conversationally.

He sounds like your eye candy. Ryan sighed thoughtfully. ”True. Sweetest eye candy around.” Too many s’s in that one, he almost blurred his words together. Evidently, he didn’t quite notice his fading clarity. Surely you have photographic evidence. Ryan looked suspicious but couldn’t direct it at Brendon properly, squinting at his phone and letting the screen go black. ”Hey. For me. And me only. Get your own.” Ryan held it together for a few moments, letting that float in the air, before suddenly snickering, grinning at absolutely nothing funny at all. The laughter lasted maybe ten seconds before promptly forgot why he was so amused in the first place, a dumb smile remaining even afterward.

Ryan got to ramble for a surprising amount of time before the supposed stranger actually cut in and he realized again that he actually had an audience. I’m sure he loves you too, I- are you sure he’s a bottom, he sounds more vers to me... Ryan openly laughed again, placing his hand on his forehead, letting the other one stay hanging off the edge of the seat he lay on. ”Closest he’s come to being vers is when he’s in a ‘power bottom’ mood. Listen, listen - pull his hair just right, lift him for a better angle, he’ll fall apart. He’s submissive.” Maybe this was as bad as showing lewd pictures. Ryan painted an interesting image already, and poor Zack and the driver were on the clock, being paid to witness this nastiness unfold. ”It’s a good thing,” Ryan added, his voice light as if he was, like, coming to a compromise about the matter or something.

”You wouldn’t expect it, ‘cause he’s so confident... God, he has every right to be.” No one even had to prompt him to talk at this point. He just kept doing it, little pauses here and there to gather himself. ”He’s stunning. There’s this little... his V-line, you can trace along there, the velvety skin, and, like, he wears his jeans so low on his hips, so low, it’s like art, it’s so fuckin’ hot. First thing I go for when I hold him.” While Ryan spoke, he had his hand in the air again, like he was miming the actions he described. He paused once more. ”Second thing is - well. I think I already covered his - is there a gentler word for ‘ass’? I feel like I’m yelling.” Classic drunk talk. He lost his train of thought for a couple moments. ”Hey, I haven’t even told you about his face.” For one, Zack made an impatient sound from the front immediately. For another, yes, he did already show Brendon a picture of himself, but he had words, apparently.

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

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

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

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

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

F

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryan was conscious of the fact that Brendon wouldn’t want some of this information public. He’d be pretty embarrassed being outed as a complete bottom - for god knows what reason, his boyfriend insisted on being ‘vers’ or something, even though every experience they’d ever had said otherwise. The conversation came up between every couple about changing things up but Brendon, specifically, was so iffy about ‘switching’ that it was clear he only claimed to be more than he was. So. They stayed relatively the same, all the time, except Ryan apparently wasn’t allowed to state that fact. He might’ve even felt guilty about the admission if he wasn’t so ridiculously far gone. I don’t think we need to know. Well, too late, because Ryan was on a roll, and once he started, apparently he couldn’t stop.

And maybe he was being too descriptive about what exactly designated Brendon to his position, but he was nothing if not an artist with his words. Okay, Ryan, I think we- Again, too late, because Ryan cut him off anyway, going on to continue his lost rambling about his boyfriend. It became clear a few moments through that whoever he was ranting to wasn’t listening anymore (though the front of the car seemed torn between listening intently for entertainment purposes and ignoring it all to save themselves from disgust) but he continued regardless, looking very pleased with himself. ”And you saw his mouth, right? I can’t describe it, like, he’s an experience.” Ryan placed his index finger gingerly against his lip, like he was remembering kissing him, the issue being that he couldn’t quite carry a thought longer than a moment or few.

”When I kiss him, he’s just... I can sink into him, I get so lost in it. I could kiss him forever.” Well, that was the sweet part of it. Ryan released a soft exhale, let that float in the air for a second, before continuing. ”And he is, undoubtedly, the best at sucking dick, like, of anyone, ever. Sometimes it’s hard to not look at him and think about how perfect his mouth is for -“ Ryan glared up at the front as Zack loudly cleared his throat, uncomfortable if amused. Evidently he didn’t care how comfortable anyone in the car felt, because he finished his sentence anyway. ”For blowing me.” He sighed again, running a hand sloppily over his face, a distractd smile still adamant on staying there while Brendon was on his mind. Maybe in the most inappropriate ways possible, but that was a given.

Ryan was about to continue about the rest of him he hadn’t already rambled about, but Brendon was suddenly urging him up, and, confused, Ryan started to sit up, slowly rolling up by latching on to Zack’s headrest and pulling himself forward. Ryan, Jesus, it’s me. It’s Brendon. Ryan huffed, bewildered, still trying to settle in his seat again. Look at me, stop being thirsty, I’m here. ”What,” he mumbled airily, simultaneously turning as he straightened up. It was a pointless endeavor, because a second later he was leaning again, closer to Brendon, resting his head against the seat because it felt like it was spinning and that’d, hypothetically, keep his vision straight. ”Hey...” He reached out, placing a hand on one side of Brendon’s face, squinting, then eventually putting the other on the opposite side of his face, holding him still and concentrating hard.

”Oh my God, Brendon, baby,” Ryan said suddenly, after a good twenty seconds of processing everything, and he was immediately clicking out of his seatbelt and climbing over to Brendon’s side of the car. He apparently didn’t realise how ridiculously long he was and therefore how awkward this position would be, but he folded over Brendon’s lap anyway, knees at either side of his hips, back bent until he could cradle his face and look at him properly again. ”I missed you so much, I was just talking about you.” As if he didn’t hear. Ryan pressed him against the seat, mostly sinking against him for lack of his own coordination, and kissed him as sloppily as he’d possibly ever been. He did until he was well and truly out of breath, then trailed just as messy kisses down from his lips to his neck, eyes still loosely shut. ”Bren, hey, you should totally blow me. Like, now.” Evidently the car full of people was still not an issue.

As much as this was beginning to become mortifying, with Ryan outing him as the ‘submissive’ one (he wasn’t embarrassed because of a masculinity thing, he had just upheld a ‘fuckboy’ type personality that suggested otherwise and his ego was way too big to handle Zack of all people knowing that he- it was difficult to explain), Brendon really couldn’t be that mad. When he got close to it just for a second, he forced himself to think about times that Ryan had relayed to him where he’d been filthy when he was drunk. For example, talking about Ryan’s dick size, loudly, in a bar full of strangers, or the time he had launched into a very explicit monologue about exactly what Ryan’s hands were good for. He supposed they were now even. It was very eye-opening being in the shoes that Ryan was usually in- looking after his wasted boyfriend and trying to make sure he didn’t throw up all over himself and keep things PG while in public. God, if Ryan was like this in a car with two other people- Brendon was simultaneously terrified and excited to find out what the hell he’d do when a) he identified Brendon as his his god-given ‘bottom’ and b) they were alone.

In a desperate attempt to save himself from torture and physical harm from Zack the next day, Brendon started pleading with Ryan in a strained voice, but clearly he was having none of it, cutting right through his protests. And you saw his mouth, right? Brendon paled. He already knew where this was going but knew he was powerless to stop whatever horrendously graphic shit that was about to come out (admittedly very slurred) of Ryan’s mouth. I can’t describe it, like, he’s an experience. Brendon raised his eyebrows- even if Ryan had said he couldn’t describe it, in this loose-tongued state, he knew almost for certain that he’d try his damnedest to get his point across. Still. Mortification aside, this was all very flattering. At least now Brendon had a vivid insight into what the hell was going on inside Ryan’s head whenever he looked at Brendon while he was undressing. Evidently it was a fucking lot. Enlightening. When I kiss him, I just... I can sink into him, I get so lost in it.

Despite himself, Brendon betrayed how touching that was with a soft smile, because he knew exactly what Ryan was talking about- when they kissed, it felt like the first time every time, as cliche and corny as that sounded, be it a kiss on the forehead in the morning, an affectionate peck on the cheek, a brief ‘hello’ ‘goodbye’ ‘good morning’ or ‘goodnight’ kiss, a romantic kiss on the back of a hand; a deep, slow, passionate kiss in the dark, intimate neck kisses and lips tracing skin and bone. Every one was electrifying in its own way. I could kiss him forever. Mhm. This was dangerous, Brendon was becoming too endeared with the man who was painting an intricate picture of his sex life to two people who definitely didn’t want to know. He was finding it difficult not to lean in and attempt to steal a kiss again, drawn in by some magnetic force. It was sweet, Ryan was sweet. Maybe this wasn’t all bad. And he is, undoubtedly, the best at sucking dick, like, of anyone, ever.

Maybe he spoke too soon. ”Ryan-“ He tried to interrupt explosively, his voice increasing pitch desperately. Holy fucking shit, that did not need to be public knowledge, as cocky as Ryan instantly was about Ryan’s confession there. He’d be holding that over his head for a long time. ”Ryan, fucking hell, man.” There was no point trying to stop this anymore, he supposed, it’d be better to wait it out, let him get out every dirty thought he had stored in his stupid little brain. Brendon slumped shamefully against the window and made eye contact with Zack in the rear view mirror, pleading, while Zack looked a mixture of threatening and amused. Sometimes it’s hard to not look at him and think about how perfect his mouth is for- Zack was clearly not giving up yet, clearing his throat loudly. For blowing me. That was it. That was enough. If Ryan said any more he’d be giving an audio description of their non-existent sex tape. Brendon pushed his hair back and turned to face Ryan, trying to convince him that he was, in fact, next to his smoking hot lover.

He watched as Ryan tried to orientate himself, tried to get a good look at Brendon’s face- he even didn’t raise his eyebrows when Ryan was placing his hands on the sides of his face as if trying to hold it still when he wasn’t even moving, though he did crack the barest smile because his boyfriend was so ridiculous and cute when he was this drunk. He couldn’t wait to witness him nurse that hell of a hangover the next morning. There was a long pause and Brendon was scared Ryan had gotten sudden amnesia of him entirely- but then recognition lit up in his honey eyes and Brendon grinned just as he saw Ryan’s entire body become animated with excitement. Oh my god, Brendon, baby. Relief flooded through Brendon and he opened his mouth to speak but was stopped before he could forms words by his very affectionate boyfriend literally undoing his seatbelt and straddling his lap in a space that definitely wasn’t big enough. Though it wasn’t like he could voice that opinion when Ryan’s tongue was down his throat- plus he didn’t want to encourage anything by kissing back so he pressed back against the seat insistently.

I missed you so much, I was just talking about you. Brendon tried to catch his breath once Ryan had finally pulled away from his mouth, started pressing kisses elsewhere that skin was exposed. ”Were you really, that’s fuckin’ wild,”” He said dryly, ”Nothin’ too personal, yeah, babe?” Honestly, Brendon wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to have sex with Ryan again without thinking about how Zack and some driver know way too much about what happens during. Bren, hey, you should totally blow me. See, usually, it was extremely rare that Brendon turned down this request, but a number of things made it seem very unappealing to him right then. First of all, Zack didn’t seem enthusiastic- If you even touch it, I’m quitting. ”It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, dude.” He mumbled just for the sake of arguing. But anyway. Apart from that, there wasn’t much room. And Brendon was tired. And Ryan would probably fall asleep in the middle of it. And they were in a fucking car with two other people. Ryan chose the worst times. ”As much as I’d love to, darlin’. Zack wouldn’t be happy.”

Ryan- came the inevitable scolding, and Ryan was partially affronted that he’d been interrupted, partially amused by the suddenness. He grinned lopsidedly, like he didn’t have a clue what was wrong with any of this, prepared to continue his tangent regardless of how many protests he heard. Ryan, fucking hell, man. He still didn’t see a problem. It felt like he’d held this in for a long time - he’d tell Brendon parts of it all, brief glimpses and summaries, but being able to say every stupidly thirsty thing that crossed his mind was nice. Recalling that he’d been drinking, and usually he did keep his mouth shut when he was sober, Ryan made a sudden resolution (as one was wont to do when they had enough alcohol in them): he was going to be more outgoing. Yeah, that was the problem. He was going to remember this idea, not regret the entire night and therefore rule out that plan, and he’d change for the better. Presumably, drunk Ryan was better than normal.

And he was ready to impress his boyfriend with it all, if only he could get to him quicker, because this car ride felt like for-fucking-ever, but then. Brendon was there, and suddenly life was one hundred percent better, Ryan wasn’t going to throw up and he was super capable of being fully functioning and this night was the best night ever. Everything, right side up. He had to hold Brendon still for a moment (though he was still, and Ryan was the dizzy one) before it fully processed that his nearest and dearest was here, that all his wishes had come true. Unfortunately, though his excitement was one-sided, his immediate physical intimacy was not. Ryan decided it didn’t make much of a difference to what he’d just been rambling about. Brendon was still delightful to kiss even when it appeared he was just putting up with his boyfriend for now - and then Ryan pieced together that maybe he should step back, then, so he tilted his head away, waiting to read his tone.

Were you really, that’s fuckin’ wild. Sounded very resigned. Ryan placed his hands on Brendon’s shoulders to lean himself slightly back until he could face Brendon fully, apparently unable to balance himself otherwise. Nothin’ too personal, yeah, babe? Ryan paused, blinking once, twice, considering this. ”A little. Perhaps.” He raised his eyebrows, the picture of innocence, and awaited forgiveness that he hadn’t even remembered to ask for. ”I speak verrry highly of you. Only the truth.” Which was completely different from ‘too personal,’ but alright. Speaking of, he was just talking about how Brendon was the bottom, but being perched in his lap - albeit awkwardly, terribly mismatched - was oddly comfortable. Maybe he had a secret calling. Ryan didn’t voice that, for once, but he did, in fact, crack up audibly at the thought, unexplained.

Anyway, he had his priorities, and Zack - who he’d conveniently forgotten since Brendon’s arrival - didn’t seem too fond of them. If you even touch it, I’m quitting. Ryan laughed again, rolling off of Brendon and aside. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, dude. ”That’s true,” Ryan said, as if he’d only just realized, sounding vaguely put off by the thought. He seemed to forget just as quickly, though, maintained at least three inches of space between himself and Brendon for a moment before he reconsidered. Ryan very carefully fit an arm around his shoulders, manoeuvring so slowly it was like he was handling fragile property, and rested his head on Brendon’s shoulder. Which, given their heights, would again be beyond awkward if only he wasn’t leaning at a ridiculous angle. As much as I’d love to, darlin’. Zack wouldn’t be happy. Ryan sighed, absent. He’d already figured as much a few seconds after he asked, enough time to play detective. ”Zack.”

It was quiet for a long moment, a blessing for everyone aside from Ryan, while he chewed on his lip tentatively. ”Okay. So what are we gonna do when the king of cockblocks’s gone?” he asked, keeping his gaze ahead as if it was at all a nonchalant thing to say.

It was true that Brendon had been the one to lean in for a kiss first, but that was a) because he hadn’t seen him in a good while, several long hours, and b) because Ryan didn’t even recognise him as his boyfriend, so naturally wasn’t just going to kiss some apparent stranger. Ryan had therefore denied him permission and they’d barely touched- until now, when Ryan, in his endearing but simultaneously alarming reaction to realising Brendon had been right beside him this whole time, climbed uncharacteristically onto his lap, a knee bracing either side of his thighs, and dragged him into a very inappropriate and disarming kiss. He tasted strongly of alcohol, no surprise there, but other than that the only thing Brendon took away from the unexpected one-sided makeout in the back seat of the car was that Ryan had clearly missed him. It would be charming, but Ryan sticking his tongue down his throat with two uncomfortable onlookers after having talked in detail about how good the head that Brendon gave was was the last thing Brendon would consider a romantic gesture.

Flattering, maybe. Key word, ‘maybe’. When Ryan finally pulled back and allowed him to breathe, Brendon shifted uncomfortably, not used to this- it was usually the other way around, Brendon straddling Ryan, but he just did what Ryan usually resorted to and held onto his waist to try and steady him, thumb stroking over his side gently, praying that he didn’t throw up. It was great that Ryan finally recognised him, sure, and he’d have a lot to tease him about tomorrow, but right now, Brendon just wanted to go home and go to sleep- he was exhausted from the show alone, where he always went overboard with the energy he put into his performance, and this whole charade with Ryan’s wasted ass was not helping things. It made him feel a little sympathy for everyone who had to deal with him when he was this drunk, actually. Suddenly, Ryan’s hands were on his shoulders and Brendon tilted his chin to meet his eyes, eyebrows raised. A little. Perhaps. Ryan’s words played through his head- he is undoubtedly the best at sucking dick, he’s submissive, he’ll fall apart- and Brendon scoffed. ”Define a ‘little’, man. If you keep talking about how good I am at giving head, Zack might get jealous.” He grinned, always managing to find the funny side. Zack barely even reacted, used to this kind of torment.

Oh, but he was so pretty. Even pissed as all hell. Brendon tenderly reached up to drag his fingers through his hair, had to suppress a smile, keep his mouth in a straight, dry, unimpressed line.I speak verrrry highly of you. Only the truth. His mind wandered as he considered all of the ‘truths’ that Ryan wouldn’t want shared about him or them as couple to the world, but decided against pointing out that just because something was ‘personal’, it didn’t mean it was ‘the truth’ that needed to be told- it wouldn’t get through to Ryan while he was in this state, anyway. Brendon opened his mouth after a pause to ask Zack how far away from the hotel they were but Ryan’s sudden, unexplained laughter interrupted him, startling him so much that he physically jumped, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening. ”Jesus, what’s so fuckin’ funny? Crackhead.”

Ryan then suggested that Brendon go down on him in this very car at this very moment. Brendon absolutely did not want to, even if they were just back atthe hotel, he was tired and he was pretty sure Ryan would fall asleep during it anyway, and that would be something his ego wouldn’t be able to let go. But, he didn’t want to extend this conversation so he just used Zack and the driver as an excuse. Zack voiced his distaste openly and Brendon didn’t blame him- he’d already seen much more of what Brendon and Ryan got up to in their free time, Brendon didn’t imagine he wanted to see any more. It did not come in the job description, that’s for sure. That’s true. Zack grumbled. Unfortunately. Ryan was suddenly lifting himself off his lap and Brendon followed his movements with his eyes, watching as he settled back onto the car seat. He hoped that he’d fall asleep but- three seconds later he was resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder, an arm around him. At least this was more PG-13. Zack. Yes, Zack. Though, again, even if they were alone- Brendon didn’t feel like getting on his knees right now, his legs were killing him.

Okay. Oh, fuck, just when he thought he was finally settling down. So what are we gonna do when the king of cockblocks’s gone? Brendon looked to the ceiling of the car like he was asking a God for help, and on the way down he caught Zack’s eye, who raised his eyebrows at him. He shrugged helplessly and tried to stay still, desperately trying not to encourage Ryan to do anything more than rest on his shoulder. ”I dunno, Ry,” He murmured absently, not really thinking about it, ”What d’ya wanna do?” Sleep, that’s what Brendon wanted to do. Put Ryan to bed and then sleep.