[IC] archetype of television || b&r

[jakob]

As it turns out, things are far more difficult to organise yourself in the music industry. Ryan was once able to do it, considering he'd been the one to put together his own band and publicize all their demos and organize the record deal, but that was years ago and things changed fast. And he'd had a group of people to fall back on then anyway - even if things had gone south, it wasn't like he'd been alone. Maybe in a larger sense he wasn't now, really, but he was the only creative force behind all of his new work, not even Brendon had a hand in any of it besides moral support (or if he heard Ryan practicing through the walls and shouted 'change the key' or 'you're out of tune' or something like that... maybe that did earn him creator's credit after all). Anyway. Ryan's situation was high risk.

So instead of relying on locals or himself, god forbid, Ryan had to travel to find collaborators. Music producers were readily available pretty much anywhere, hell, he could've asked his own husband or closest friends to produce for him given their own success, but he needed unbiased professionalism if he was to really make anything he was proud of. He didn't doubt anyone other than himself, as much as it sounded otherwise. Ryan may be nitpicky as ever but it extended to his own creation, too; he and Brendon had only recently stopped making their music collaboratively and he had been the one to separate from their big name, so of course whatever new thing he made had to be perfect or at least gripping. That said, he eventually bit the bullet, decided it was time to visit NYC to explore the wider range of people to work with.

The hard part of that wasn't what usually turned people away from travel, like the expenses or the consumed time, nothing like that. Ryan was just ridiculously reliant on a close proximity to Brendon pretty much at all times. On the occasion he wasn't playing shows with Brendon and therefore was unlikely to see him even come home at night (or, worse, if Brendon went on tour), it was basically unbearable, they were that co-dependent. Was it unhealthy? Probably. Mostly it didn't pose a problem, though, 'cause at least they weren't the opposite way, unable to stand each other or something. Ryan would blame it on the 'year not to be spoken of' - when they thought they wouldn't see each other again at all - but in truth he'd been opposed to spending time away from Brendon even before that, no matter whether they were romantically involved or not. They just clicked, and it was hard to let people go on that basis whether you were leaving temporarily or not.

Thankfully whenever they did have to go their separate ways, both of them were on the same page of being stupidly clingy. Ryan thought he was the one obsessed normally, when they did see each other daily, but was proven otherwise whenever he took a trip or Brendon did. First it was at the door, where they'd grab each other and hang on as long as they could, and this time Ryan had to explain he was going to miss his flight repeatedly until he actually was cutting the line when Brendon let him go. Then the texts, call me when you're past TSA, call me when you're boarding, call me when you land, and then when he did call it was all 'was your flight okay - how close are you to the hotel - I miss you.' Which Ryan would laugh or sigh at if only he didn't do the exact same thing with Brendon and reciprocate all of it with equal amounts of enthusiasm/lack thereof. He was just glad he hadn't used minutes on his phone since 2010, 'cause if he did, he'd run out on his first day away.

In New York he met up with about ten different producers and didn't like any of them. Eventually he had to settle with the fact that he was indeed blessed with the ability to self-produce, although it was sort of costly and didn't allow for as much outside input, but anyway that was what mixers were for and guest artists could help with. The travelling would've been unnecessary altogether, then, but Ryan didn't want it all to be for naught, so he grabbed a few ugly pieces of NYC merch to hopefully get his husband to cringe at. Three days after arriving he flew out again, sending Brendon update Snaps almost constantly and receiving heavily filtered selfies with widely varying expressions and scenarios in response. Assumedly, Brendon got easily bored in a big empty house.

It would've been nice if he could sneak up on Brendon and surprise him with his arrival, considering he hadn't given him an update since boarding the plane out of NYC, but just as Ryan very quietly opened the door he heard Bogart lose his mind and Dottie, at a less tired pace, amble towards him. Just his luck. Accepting the loss, he silently shut the door and caught Bogart jumping at him, bowing to scratch Dot's head while shushing the former's excited barking. Ryan left his suitcase standing by the doorway and carried Bogart with him while he walked to the living room, Dottie basically circling between his feet like she was trying to trip him. He finally found Brendon on the couch, looking fixated on whatever video game he was playing this time. Apparently Ryan wasn't totally given away, then. Ryan held Bogart closer to him, his head tucked against Ryan's shoulder like he was already preparing to fall asleep and give up on licking Ryan's face constantly, and approached the couch, leaning over the back. "You talk to the TV even when I'm not here? Freak." He squinted at the gameplay, then grinned at Brendon, dropping Bogart delicately in his lap. "Your dog is a mess."

[Neve]

Though Brendon didn’t exactly regret ‘separating’ from Ryan musically (really it had been Brendon who had suggested, orchestrated and demanded the entire procedure of panic becoming his and his alone), there were some- many- downfalls to having a different career to your husband, he quickly found. They didn’t spend as much time together, which was weird in itself; they were used to being together during work, play and leisure, and though they often got distracted when they were supposed to be working anyway, it was nice. They were close enough to share that much time together and not get sick of eachother or irritated (usually). Now, Ryan and Brendon worked separately, having to divide time in their makeshift studio as equally as possible, vying for attention when the other worked, bored to all hell while the other was in the living room watching tv or something. Brendon liked the independence, sure, but he missed them bickering about something dumb like a single word in a lyric or a single key in a piano tab.

Maybe they got more work done, but Brendon thrives on attention and Ryan found it difficult to resist his charms, so not that much more. What was worse than the awkward timing and schedule was the fact that Brendon now had to tour by himself if Ryan was to stay home and actually work on his own music; and that Ryan, kickstarting a career almost from scratch when Brendon had generously given himself the big name of the band, felt the need to actually go far away to find and meet collaborators and producers. So maybe he was a little offended that Ryan hadn’t just asked him- Oh yeah, baby, I wonder where else you could find a producer- but if he mentioned it, Ryan would probably mention something about professionalism and bias. Whatever. Brendon was far from biased when it came to music- if he didn’t like it, he’d say. The problem was he’d liked everything Ryan had ever done musically anyway.

They were kind of ridiculous, honestly- a few hours apart was something of a struggle, never mind a few days, and in the future a few months when Brendon inevitably went on tour. Baby steps, though- Ryan was flying out to NYC, and though Brendon had subtly done everything in his power to get him to stay, he told himself eventually he was being selfish and was supportive, enthusiastic above all that Ryan was finally getting a move on. He was proud of him. Brendon would have suggested he come along (he had nothing to do anyways), but he also felt it wasn’t really his place- this was Ryan’s career, he didn’t have to interfere with everything seeing as it was Brendon who had put his husband in this position of starting from scratch. Anyway, he’d packed the night previous, and then they were standing at the door, and Brendon had subconsciously clung on to him, kissing him like they would never see eachother again or something. Eventually, when Ryan had mentioned he was running a little late, he reluctantly pulled back and let go, picking up Bogart as Penny and Dottie looked ready to bolt after Ryan as he left.

So maybe Brendon had immediately invited Holden around, and Holden had brought himself some alcohol (out of no malicious intent, he was just kind of dumb) and Brendon had been proud of himself because he felt no urge or need. Even when Ryan was gone, he felt confident enough to be around it, so while Holden got through sixpacks, Brendon drank cherry cola and Gatorade because he was, like, seven. They had played video games (Brendon was obviously better), messed around with the guitars (Holden was better), and basically trashed the place on the first night Ryan was away. Brendon never bothered to clean up, so there were effectively empty beer cans strewn everywhere. He did realise this would look very bad to Ryan, though, so he put them all on the kitchen counter so he could point them out to Ryan and explain before Ryan saw them first and he looked guilty.

So he’d done nothing productive for the entire three days, apart from maybe advance a lot in assassin’s creed, which was a huge personal achievement. He was so engrossed that he didn’t even pay attention to his phone, which was on silent. In fact, he didn’t even know Ryan was coming home that day, so he was just in his underwear, eating last night’s leftover cold pizza, hair kind of disheveled in a cute way only Brendon could pull off. He was still playing video games, fully absorbed, so when Ryan entered the house, he didn’t even hear, just became irritated when bogart went crazy. Penny didn’t seem as bothered- she was fast asleep on the floor anyway. He didn’t even turn, but sounded irritated. ”Bogart, I swear to god, shut up.” Brendon exclaimed, suddenly annoyed because the distraction had caused him to die. He dropped the controller and rubbed his hands over his eyes, shifting to a more comfortable position, when suddenly- You talk to the TV even when I'm not here? Freak. Oh. Ryan was back."Freak? Thanks, babe.”

He put his controller aside as Bogart was dropped into his lap, and shifted his dog onto the couch. Wait. Ryan was back. Fully realising this, he turned round excitedly. Your dog is a mess. ”Fuck off, yours can’t even-" He gave up, because he had climbed over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around Ryan, burying his face in his husband’s shoulder and then turning his head to kiss his cheekbone, grinning widely and then pulling back, reaching up then to cradle both sides of his face by his jaw. ”Hey. I’ve missed you so much.” He leaned in forcefully, catching him in a rather intense open-mouthed kiss, attempting to make up for the three days missed. He was smiling, though, so it was difficult, and when he pulled back he was laughing breathlessly. ”Fuck, why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back? I would have- put some clothes on.”

[jakob]

Ryan expected to feel like a parent coming home from a business trip to find their teenaged kid, but not to this extent. The house basically looked like the equivalent of said teenaged kid's wreckage post-party, red Solo cups strewn about and broken decor, except the red Solo cups were actually Pabst Blue Ribbon cans and the broken decor was broken guitar strings. Ryan would be panicking if he didn't know for certain that that was Holden's beer of choice, and also Holden typically never brought his own shit to break, so it always ended up being any of Ryan's instruments. It was fine; he usually just hunted down Holden later on and forced him to restring every guitar, not just the broken one. So, walking through the house again and finding it somewhat in ruins after only three days spent away, he couldn't bring himself to get angry - he wasn't the one who was responsible for fixing it.

He'd also be pissed that Holden the human tornado had even come round if that didn't mean that at least someone had stopped by and ensured that Brendon was alive. He could easily have faceplanted during a backflip, or something, maybe forgotten to eat while playing games the entire time. At least with the human tornado in question over, Brendon would be stocked up with pizza boxes (which was much more easily accessible than the tons of healthy to semi-healthy foods Ryan had stocked up on in preparation for his absence; in retrospect, a shortsighted choice, in that he knew Brendon wouldn't touch anything not directly in front of him). It wasn't that Brendon was irresponsible or that immature, per se. He just didn't really give a fuck about self-care until he was, like, on the brink of death.

All that said, Ryan wasn't really surprised to find him on the couch damn near naked with a controller in hand and - thank god - a pizza at his side. He wasn't sure if the disheveled hair he usually took such ridiculous measures to keep in line was a result of not sleeping or oversleeping, but it was hard to focus on that when he looked stupidly cute despite three days of living like an isolated high schooler. Ryan was in the room just in time to hear him scold Bogart and sort of laughed at his obliviousness (although worrying; what if it wasn't Ryan, god) before addressing him, finally. Freak? Thanks, babe. What a reaction. Ryan was almost offended. Then again, staring at a screen for 72 hours straight had likely numbed his reflexes.

He watched, entertained, as Brendon just as calmly moved Bogart off, then appeared to register fully for the first time that Ryan was actually back. Ryan beamed at him as he turned, suddenly animated. Fuck off, yours can’t even- He cracked up when Brendon quit his point mid-sentence, catching him as he came over the back of the couch and helping to keep him balanced after such quick movements. He curled his hand protectively round the back of his head when it was tucked against his shoulder, the other barred around his waist to keep him close, until Brendon was pressing a kiss to his cheek and he couldn't do much other than laugh softly, contentedly. He tried to stem it by the time Brendon was framing his face so carefully, to no avail; it just died down somewhat into a fond smile. "Can't what? This is an anti-'Dottie slander' household."

Clearly not minding very much, though, Ryan dragged the hand curled round the back of Brendon's head to between his shoulderblades, pressing little circles with his fingertips like a lazy massage. Hey. I’ve missed you so much. Ryan couldn't help the gentle laughter that bubbled at that again, nearly returning the sentiment before he was interrupted with a kiss that was pretty characteristically Brendon. Desperately trying to stop gleefully laughing or smiling in order to reciprocate in full, Ryan was able to properly kiss back about 25% of the time - and was almost self-conscious about it until he realised Brendon was kind of in the same situation. When they pulled apart they were identical, laughing breathlessly, Ryan feeling like he could lose his balance in a second.

Fuck, why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back? I would have- put some clothes on. Ryan looked at him curiously, half-happy half-confused, before he came to the conclusion that Brendon somehow didn't get his texts. He looked around for a moment before leaning away, sort of taking Brendon with him while he retrieved Brendon's overturned phone and came back to their original spot. He pressed the home button, revealing tons of new notifications flooding the screen. "Babe, Do Not Disturb mode has never been your friend." He peeled away one of Brendon's hands just to give his cell back, let him look through it all, probably 75% Holden trying to earn another night at PBR heaven. "Also, I don't think you would have put clothes on, but the sentiment means a lot. Besides- I don't mind. Kinda the opposite." He smoothed a hand over Brendon's chest, grinning widely again, and kissed him for another long moment, evidently still recovering from their brief time apart.

When he pulled away to breathe Ryan was reminded of the state of the house, glancing past Brendon's shoulder to see a fraction of the mess. "How did it get like this in three days?" he asked with short breath, not annoyed or angry sounding but more fascinated. "And, how are you alive? I count three pizza boxes." Both he and Holden were tiny, probably weighing no more than 130 each and a culminating average of 5'7. It was amazing how much they could shovel in - and how much they could drink without bursting, whether it be cherry Cola or a lager.

[Neve]

Though Brendon would have definitely preferred it if Ryan didn’t have to leave to go anywhere for very long without him, he did kind of enjoy the time he had alone, because he could invite Holden round and act like a five year old without being practically ‘parented’ by Ryan. Sure, he brought alcohol every time, but at this point for Brendon it was more like good practice than an actual problem. Besides, Holden meant no harm- the only problem was the potential of Ryan freaking out and jumping to conclusions, although as Brendon got better, Ryan did too. What helped was that Holden only every brought one type of drink- the same every time- so it was obvious to Ryan when he walked in and saw cans everywhere that it was the work of a careless and slightly disrespectful Holden, not a relapsing Brendon. There was also the case of broken guitar strings on all of Ryan’s instruments, even the mint green guitar that was his favourite. Brendon intended to restring them, but. He got distracted five minutes later and ended up jumping through video games for the next two days straight.

It wasn’t like Brendon was helpless, he just kind of forgot to take care of himself properly because it was usually Ryan doing that to some extent- cooking, because Brendon was useless at anything beyond using the microwave, going to bed at a healthy time, because usually when Ryan got into bed, he followed suit because it was boring without him, and even taking care of the wolfsbane supply they needed, because god knows Brendon would wreak havoc otherwise. It was expensive, and difficult to make, and he was lucky as all hell to have somebody who actually paid attention in potions class and didn’t just doodle on his work and cause a lot of distractions. He also apparently forgot to dress himself, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t put some pants on the entire three days Ryan had been gone, never mind a shirt. Holden didn’t seem to mind very much.

Kind of like the story of the emperor’s new clothes- he hadn’t noticed he was wearing practically nothing until the one person he actually properly listened to turned up and mentioned it outright. Obviously, this reaction wasn’t immediate, because he was so wrapped up in the grief of losing his game because of bogart’s overzealousness. A few moments passed after he replied to Ryan’s initial self-introduction, and he finally registered that the love of his life was Home and it was the greatest day ever. Better than his wedding day, even. With great enthusiasm he practically vaulted over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around Ryan, hugging him tightly and fully relaxing in his arms as Ryan returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. He heard a gentle laugh, but just ignored it and kissed his cheek quickly, moving his hands to frame his husband’s face, as if he hadn’t looked through his camera roll and seen him every single day just because he missed having him around in person.

Can’t what? This is an anti-‘Dottie slander’ household. ”Can’t jump,” He finished, grinning. ”And it isn’t when you’re away.” He kind of moved subconsciously closer, then kissed him, wanting to skip everything else and just show him how much he missed him. Unfortunately, he had to breathe, so pulled back, and moved his hands down to Ryan’s waist. Brendon finally registered that he had literally no clothes on besides his underwear, and rushed to explain himself. Ryan, apparently, wasn’t very surprised. He watched as his husband leaned away to get his own phone, and then when Ryan showed him the screen, he had the decency to look just a little sheepish. Babe, Do Not Disturb mode has never been your friend. Brendon took his phone back and scrolled through- mostly texts from Holden about coming back over, a few from Ryan, several other notifications and the group chat that Holden had unmuted for him when he’d somehow guessed his phone password. ”I was very involved with Assassin’s creed, okay?”

Also, I don't think you would have put clothes on, but the sentiment means a lot. Brendon nodded, unable to argue with that. Besides- I don't mind. Kinda the opposite. Brendon grinned again as Ryan drew his hand across his chest, and had to suppress it when Ryan leaned in to kiss him again so he could reciprocate. When he pulled back, he looked kind of sleepy- partly because Ryan’s return was making him feel all warm, partly because he hadn’t slept in like three days. ”Holden didn’t mind much either,” He laughed, then frowned suddenly. "Oh, those in the kitchen- Holden’s,” Brendon said hesitantly, searching Ryan’s expression. If he had been bothered, he would have mentioned it already, but still. Better safe than sorry.

While Ryan looked around, Brendon just wrapped his arms over his shoulders loosely. How did it get like this in three days? ”Holden.” He said gravely. Enough explanation. And, how are you alive? I count three pizza boxes. Brendon was smiling when he dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, turning around and kind of leaning against Ryan’s chest a little to survey the carnage. In response, he kind of shrugged one shoulder. ”No idea. Hey, I think we should-" He stopped suddenly, looking devastated. ”Oh, fuck me.” Brendon drew his hands down across his face, then turned around and looked up at Ryan with a long sigh. ”It’s full moon tonight.”