[IC] your way

[jakob]

They'd been on tour for a month strong now, give or take, and Ryan's estimation of his patience was initially a little too high. That first night, he'd been in Brendon's dressing room for mere minutes before he realized he felt the same as before, the feelings he'd thought gone stale still as lively as in Seattle. Something about that city... they were back in it, and every ground rule laid out for him had become less and less feasible over time, now completely in the back of his mind whenever he was with Brendon again. It was only a national tour and those didn't last forever; the 'steamy second love affair' that 'could only last as long as this tour, no longer' was, by Brendon's terms, coming to a close. Ryan honestly had no idea if he still meant it. Hell, considering Ryan had been turned away for the past week, he might have meant even shorter of a time, which... was a hard deal to maintain. As the one to initiate their rivalry, before everything, before even knowing Brendon, Ryan would have never guessed he'd be the one so desperately attached. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't have anything else going for him, but either way, that was where they were: Brendon telling him 'later' and him being affected enough to wait.

Ryan saw the Spokane sign from his band's bus window and knew they'd crossed state lines, just a matter of time until Seattle. Social media was flooded with 'welcome to Washington's and they watched hours of nothingness, little towns and cities and reservations pass by, until evergreens crowded the windows and they were surrounded by water and this was Seattle, telltale, familiar. Ryan texted Brendon vaguely, having barely seen him during any of the stops for gas, feeling nostalgic?, and when he received no response, pretended there was a reason he might be busy. Maybe this whole affair had come to a standstill. Maybe Brendon was making it easier for himself to end it when the tour was actually over, sticking to his word. In any case, Ryan had held up his end - tried to be inconspicuous, not really talking unless the Jon-and-Spencer buffer was there, and then not telling anyone at all. Though he wasn't totally certain that Jon wasn't in the know already. He was goofy, sure, but he wasn't dumb, and they were in close enough quarters on the TYV bus that it was hard not to look over someone's shoulder at their texts or read into the occasional obvious lyric Ryan threw out into the ring. If he knew, it'd sort of be Ryan's fault.

It was early afternoon when they found their hotel - and thank god, because Washington wasn't a big state but it sucked to pass through while only cramming themselves into bunks, after a couple of weeks doing exactly that - and Ryan was practically the first out of the bus into the expansive parking lot, waiting for the other bands to land and Brendon to exit his. This was sort of routine, if embarrassing. It's not like he could casually welcome himself onto Panic's bus and raid Brendon's space, not when people still thought there was some bad blood. And maybe they weren't the best of friends now, but they definitely weren't still nemesis level like people thought; so long as these rules between them were in place, though, it was probably best to keep people's perceptions alive, let them believe they were right by acting the part. So Ryan waited for stops, talked to him in the parking lot, roomed up with Jon (or if they were being cheap, the whole band) and generally excused himself with something lame like he was off to a bar while he went and coordinated time with Brendon. It's not like it was always physical. There'd been nights where Ryan genuinely just stayed in the same room with him, either of them doing work writing/practicing, or Brendon had some game at hand and Ryan tried to best him, so on. He didn't think either of them expected that to become part of all of this.

But Ryan enjoyed any of it, he'd take what he could get. These days, not much. Maybe he was a little petty about that fact - it was annoying to be snubbed so often. It felt somewhat like the start, where he had to win some contest between them, and he didn't even have a clue what the contest was, ever. Here, it was like Brendon was winning, always the one to turn him down, and yet Ryan kept coming back. Out in the cold, Ryan shoved his hands in his hoodie's pockets, utterly dressed down for Seattle weather in just that and jeans, and waited alongside Brendon's bus until he stepped out and Ryan could nudge him in the side with his elbow. "Hey, hey," he said, voice rough, and suddenly he realized he hadn't actually spoken in a good five hours. Fucking long drives. Ryan cleared his throat, stepping back and watching Brendon's new bandmates plus Spencer file out, pursing his lips. "Think you'll be free tonight? I just got a Netflix. It's gonna be wild." And he was a little late. What of it? The other tour members all turned away, unloading their bags and shrugging on backpacks, Ryan felt it was safer to step closer, so he hovered nearer to Brendon, edging them closer to the side of his tour bus. "Or are you gonna bail like you have been?" Late on Netflix, and a bit confrontational. A long trip had driven him stir-crazy, as usual.

[Neve]

Feeling nostalgic? Well, yeah. In what universe would Brendon not? The familiarity of the evergreens springing up around them at all sides was close to haunting- the trees definitely had eyes and Brendon could feel them trained on him, urging him to remember. It wasn’t like he needed any reminding, he told them silently, slightly bitter that it would always be impossible for him to come even vaguely close to Seattle and not think of Ryan. The whole place was ruined for him and he couldn’t even hear it’s name without being immediately dragged back to that stupid hotel suite that he sort of wished they had never left, because that’s when everything started to go wrong. Brendon often fantasised about them just staying there, exchanging inexhaustible kisses and pretending they’d never been unimaginably cruel to eachother. Wishful thinking- but anything would be better than now. Brendon was at the point of not wanting to open texts from Ryan out of fear that he would have sent a message breaking their arrangement off- and out of fear that he wouldn’t. It was messing with his head and it was intoxicating, Ryan was intoxicating and it was embarassing, how quickly within their first ever encounter on this damned tour that Brendon had effectively crawled back to him. They had crawled back to eachother and neither of them could really explain why. These days it was easier to just avoid him, telling himself it was so he could figure it all out. But it wasn’t that deep, sometimes. Often, Brendon just found himself amused and drawn to Ryan’s persistence.

He was proud of himself for having the willpower to reject Ryan’s advances, actually, considering how much his ex-bandmate affected him. It was strange- somehow, Brendon felt more vulnerable when he was with Ryan and fully dressed, like the times they just sort of sat around and played video games and made jokes and were frighteningly similar to just- a couple. But that would never work. It hadn’t before, and it wouldn’t. Though admittedly they’d never really tried- common sense just told them that they’d end up ripping eachother apart. Anyway, he had found that he could resist it all if he tried hard enough, and turned down Ryan more and more- seemingly without purpose, but as chaotic as Brendon seemed to many, he rarely did things without reason- especially concerning his actions towards other people. This unresponsive behaviour was partially self-defence- and partially because Brendon was bored and figured if he kept Ryan tightly wound and wrapped around his little finger, eating out of the palm of his hand, the next time he did accept Ryan’s propositions would be- well. He busied himself thinking about it a lot, but kept it to himself. Which, if you knew Brendon, you would know was very difficult for him to do. Telling Ryan, of course, was out of the question- he’d seen Ryan angry. He didn’t particularly want to ever again, they were past maliciousness now.

Demonstrating this mock ‘frigidity’, he ignored Ryan’s text, and just sat with his temple rested against the cool glass of the window, his eyes only barely following the constantly changing blurring of colours outside- green, white, brown, blue. Even still, Ryan occupied his thoughts, all the way up until the reached their hotel- all of the bands on the tour were staying in the same place. Usually, once their bus had pulled up and parked, Brendon was one of the first off and into the fresh air, no matter the heat or cold- he had an excess of energy and found it difficult to stay in the same confined space for long, needing movement and activity to stay sane. This time, though, he was slightly more hesitant- he his unreliable behaviour towards Ryan was getting to him, making him antsy, and though this was his his intention, he didn’t quite want to face confrontation because of it. He knew Ryan would be waiting outside of the bus, lingering until he stepped off. In fact, he spotted him through the tinted windows and exhaled, leaning and slumping back in his seat, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face, preparing himself. Easing himself off the chair he stood up, cracked his neck both ways and walked towards the doors of the bus, cracking his knuckles habitually as he went and shoving his hands into his pockets when bothbhus feet were planted on the solid concrete of the parking lot.

It was freezing. Brendon was even more poorly prepared than Ryan- he was in a overized but thin t-shirt and ripped jeans that he was 90% sure weren’t meant to be ripped. His hair was unkempt from five hours of pressing it into the seat and the windows, and it had been a while since he had shaved so he had a slight stubble that he grimaced at when he touched, hand scrubbing over his jaw. He was a long shot from the immaculately dressed, over-the-top persona he had adopted for this new era of Panic, but Brendon was a chameleon at best and fairly decent with stage makeup at worst, so it wouldn’t be a big deal once he got into the dressing rooms. He was shivering when Ryan nudged him with his elbow, and his first reaction to encountering him was to stare enviously at his hoodie. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stolen clothes from Ryan before- but he reminded himself he was supposed to be driving him mad by acting distant. But being completely detached was boring. He had to be somewhat sultry for this to work. Hey, hey. The corner of brendons mouth pulled up slightly as Ryan stepped back, and he followed his eyes towards where Ryan was watching his bandmates leave the bus. He looked back at him, expectant. ”Hey, man, what’s up?”

Think you’ll be free tonight? There it was. Brendon had been expecting this, but so immediately- it seemed that this tactic was working even better than he’d hoped. Even so, he was surprised and a little apprehensive, and reluctant to just flat-out refuse, so he tilted his head as if considering and parted his lips as if about to speak. I just got a Netflix. It’s gonna be wild. Wow, okay, so Ryan was so out of loop that he couldn’t even see the loop. Brendon grinned. ”I, uh- do you know what you just asked me?” Maybe he didn’t, maybe he did and was just playing dumb, maybe he did and was just being subtle- either why, Brendon’s first impulse was to just immediately say yes, he was free, because it was true, he had nothing planned for tonight- but he controlled himself and bit his lip, scrunching up his eyes a little as if weighing his options. He planned to drag it out- but Ryan evidently had other ideas. Or are you gonna bail like you have been?

Brendon’s eyebrows rose but even so he backed up against the bus automatically, freeing his bottom lip from between his teeth and resting the back of his head against the metal so he could tilt his chin up slightly towards Ryan. He knew his angles. ”Bail?” He echoed, folding his arms loosely across his chest. ”Bail from what?” Laughing, he shook his head. ”As much as I want to Netflix and chill with you, baby- I gotta raincheck.” A pause. ”You’re looking a bit wound up. You feeling alright?”

[jakob]

It had been such a long time now that they had changed their relationship that Ryan was no longer scared of every far-out, unimaginable idea that came to mind when he thought about Brendon. It wasn't scary to think of him as a boyfriend (well- it was scary to think about the asking part, and maybe the publicity part, but everything else was quite alright with him), and it wasn't scary to think about them completely letting go of all the bitterness and the cruelty from before. Actually, Ryan already sort of had, but it was easier for him - he'd started it. Come to think of it, Ryan was the initiator for most things between them. He'd been the first to completely shun Brendon and refuse to let him in to the band dynamic (though Brendon, thankfully, wormed his way in anyway thanks to Jon and Spencer). He'd been the one to come to Seattle, and he leaned in for that first, weird as hell kiss, and he followed Brendon when he appeared go have full intention of forgetting it all just to change his mind. And then, on this tour, without even really meaning to, he'd ended up in Brendon's dressing room, pretty much instantly coming onto him. Over time he'd been putting himself more and more out into the open, making himself vulnerable; it was just up to Brendon to answer all of his advances.

When he hadn't been lately, it was concerning. He was the only person Ryan had ever had such a turbulent but so deeply seated connection with - God knows why, because they really did come from two different worlds. Brendon, from a huge religious family from Utah, and Ryan never even knew his mother while he grew up in Vegas. Brendon was this lively, talented, pretty much world-reknowned musician, love and adoration followed him from every corner of the Earth, people waited hours just to maybe potentially meet him. Ryan was only similar to him, maybe, by their same ample passion, but otherwise, he had no idea what about them could bring them together. Personality-wase they shared the same humor, were both evidently fairly hot-headed (though Ryan personally only discovered that about himself when he met Brendon). He was sure, before, that this was just infatuation, all the perfections in Brendon meant he didn't love him, surely he was just momentarily obsessed. But Ryan never tried this hard, gave this much for something he wasn't actually dedicated to.

He was already worried about getting no response, nothing from Brendon along the way here, but when he stepped off of his band's tour bus and looked fairly apprehensive, Ryan figured it was his fault. He did want to confront him about everything, and there was maybe even the slim chance that Brendon didn't mean to be confusing, but. When he looked like he actually didn't want to even speak to Ryan, forget all the other intimate details, Ryan was tempted to give in. He liked him - either too much or not enough to make an ass of himself just to keep him around. Brendon was, dumbly in just a huge tee and some old jeans, but he never dressed for the weather anyway. He looked sleepless even though he had all the telltale signs of being crammed against cushions, his hair a mess, stubble dusting his jaw. And he looked like a goddamn angel. Ryan swore he forgot about the cold, a tiny smile on his face like he'd forgotten all about his bitterness, and when he caught Brendon's envious look he was tempted to just give up the hoodie automatically. 'Everything, anything, make me yours' - Brendon had said it first, but it still rung true for Ryan.

Hey, man, what’s up? Despite the warm-glowy-stupid feeling still all throughout, Ryan could've rolled his eyes. What did he think? The lack of immediate response was telltale, too; maybe he should just. Pull back. If Brendon wanted them to be over, he'd have to say it rather than leave Ryan with straws to grasp at. He was kidding himself - Ryan could entertain himself with the idea of that as much as he wanted, but as soon as Brendon grinned at him, Ryan forgot all about it. I, uh- do you know what you just asked me? He honestly had no idea. "If you wanted to watch a movie?" Ryan lifted his shoulders, naïve, and he was definitely missing something here. He didn't draw out the accusation on Brendon bailing, just went on, and when Brendon went to press back against the bus, Ryan followed close by, his eyes falling to his mouth automatically. Well. That wasn't exactly what he was going for, but apparently the dumb part of his mind was making decisions for him again.

Bail? Bail from what? Ryan pursed his lips, wishing that that didn't hurt for God knows what reason. It's not like they were nothing. He was so fucking... sensitive, it was annoying, and completely new to him. Ryan averted his gaze, studying the side of the bus as if it was suddenly the most interesting sight in the world. As much as I want to Netflix and chill with you, baby- I gotta raincheck. His hands tightened round one another in his hoodie's pockets, Ryan closed his eyes briefly, swayed a little like he was going to give up and walk away. Whatever. Brendon was worth the fight, but Ryan didn't anticipate that fight making him feel like shit. He had no idea why - he wasn't a victim, Brendon wasn't actively doing anything, just. Apparently Ryan had gotten a little soft. You're looking a bit wound up. You feeling alright? "Whatever, man," Ryan murmured, still determinedly not looking at him, his shoulders shrugging again like he couldn't care less. "I'm fine. Just thinking it'd be nice of you to say that you don't want this rather than stringing me along."

In the past when Ryan was upset with him, it'd always translated into some kind of sexual energy, one of them would be on the other and they'd be solving problems by deliberately not talking about it. Now, he just stepped back, the magnetism dissolved, scrubbing a hand over his forehead and searching the ground. He nearly turned to walk it off but faced Brendon finally, avoiding eye contact and instead sort of hanging his gaze on his shoulder, as close as he could get. "Brendon, what did I do? Out of curiosity." A scary answer would be that he didn't do anything wrong, it just wasn't neutral anymore. He wasn't going to- beg Brendon to like him, whatever, he just wanted to know the disconnect.

[Neve]

Love and adoration followed him to pretty much every corner of the earth, that was true, love and adoration from both Brendon’s fans and apparently Ryan, though it was definitely too fat to call it ‘love’- it was more infatuation, some kind of deep-seated obsession that had started in a toxic place and was on a steady decline back down to that negativity. Not that things had ever been all sunshine and soft kisses, things borne from such a background could never really be normal or healthy. But- they were getting there, had been getting there. Brendon harboured real fondness for Ryan, not just attraction. And it wasn’t bizarre anymore. It felt normal. He had grown used to his company and he supposed that familiarity made his heart grow fonder as time passed by and they were attracted to eachother like magnets, swerving back almost immediately into eachother’s lanes when they had reunited at the start of this tour. But- though Brendon was arguably happy when he was with Ryan, most of the time, doing normal dumb shit like snacking themselves into a food coma and playing video games hours into the night- he was afraid. Afraid to grow too attached, because they had already proven that dating- wouldn’t really work. Brendon reminded himself of this a lot when his romantic daydreams (yes, he had them, sue him) became too fanciful and unrealistic.

So, he became distant almost to protect himself from being hurt- but also simply because it was entertaining to watch Ryan vie for his attention no mater how many times Brendon refused his company, rebuked his offers, turned down propositions. He had him wrapped around his little finger and he relished in being able to drive him crazy- maybe it was some leftover spite from their days of absolutely hating eachothers guts. Who knew. Brendon had managed to resist Ryan for a while now, which was an achievement he was proud of. Just- just look at Ryan, he was tall, his hair was curly and dark, his eyes a soulful gold, his hands were art- of course it was an achievement. Brendon was proud of himself for not immediately dropping to his knees for him every damn time they ended up alone. He didn’t have a problem admitting that anymore- what he was more apprehensive to say was that he enjoyed just hanging out with him even more than he enjoyed their physical intimacy. And that was saying something. It frightened him. So he stepped back- for his own amusement, for his own protection, for his own gain. Maybe it was a little unreasonable. To say the least.

And now, Here Ryan was, baited into confronting him about Brendon’s frequent rejections of his advances. He had expected it but he hadn’t expected to enjoy himself this much, enjoy watching Ryan pursue him. It was probably a little twisted but it made him feel wanted and if this meant that when he did accept, Ryan put a little more effort than usual into things, it would be worth it. For both of them. Win-win. If you wanted to watch a movie? Aw. So he really did have no idea what he was insinuating. Adorable. Brendon cracked a smile and tilted his head. ”You need to like, catch up on a lot of shit,” He advised. ”By asking me, your secret ‘lover’, let’s say, to watch Netflix with you, alone, you’re implying- you know what, nevermind.” He couldn’t be bothered bringing Ryan up to speed on current pop culture and slang. Having dropped it, he stepped back to lean against the bus and Ryan dutifully followed. Man, he was intense when he was like this. And then- then he looked genuinely downcast. Brendon’s eyebrows raised minutely, surprised by his own effect. He’d expected frustration, not- not this. Whatever, man.

‘Whatever’? No, that’s not what he wanted, Brendon thought, alarms going off suddenly. He didn’t want to drive Ryan away, that was the last thing he wanted. Brendon swallowed uncomfortably. I’m fine. Sure, you look it. Just thinking it’d be nice of you to say that you don’t want this rather than stringing me along. A little stunned, Brendon pressed himself closer against the side of the bus simultaneously as Ryan stepped back, unsure of what to say, eyeing him helplessly for a few moments. The last thing he wanted was some emotional conversation and apparently here he was being dumped into one. He went with his first instinct- rebuttal as self-defence. Hiding any vulnerability. Worked every time. ”I’m not stringing you along. Sometimes, I just don’t wanna fuck. Is that too difficult for you to believe?” Honestly... yeah, it probably was. Everything Brendon was doing was clearly intentionally to rile Ryan up. Denial wouldn’t hide that. Brendon, what did I do? Out of curiousity.

Well, what was he supposed to say? ‘You didn’t do anything, I just wanted to get all your frustration pent up so you’d fuck me harder next time’? ‘I’m terrified of allowing myself to become vulnerable around you’? ‘I actually really like spending time with you and it scares me’? None of them sounded like particularly good options. Brendon clicked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest, drawing himself up straight to at least appear a little taller. Ryan was slouching a little so it kind of worked. ”Nothing. Just wanted you to be a little riled up for next time, that’s all.” Of course he went for that one. The one that would make Ryan the angriest. Of fucking course he did.

[jakob]

The weirdness turning into a fond familiarity did, in fact, ring true. Yeah, maybe they were a weird pairing, all things considered - their history of strife, of lust, of everything in between, definitely not a lot of friendliness except spottily, infrequently until now - but that didn't mean anything to Ryan. He gradually gave less of a fuck what anyone would have to say, should they come out about all of this, or just start being open about what was going on. He saw Brendon across a room of people, and it was no longer 'avoid that trouble,' more something affectionate, magnetic, like Brendon was a buoy, the only light he knew in a sea of nobodies. Cruel, sure, but in comparison, he really didn't bother talking to other people now (save their immediate circle, 'cause they all had aspects of him, too, thank god). It was definite - none of this was scary save for the newness, should they jump into anything with... labels. An idea they fervently avoided, usually. But anyway. Ryan got scared of most anything if he was unsure of himself enough. This wasn't anything to worry about.

Still, this all seemed so distant when Brendon was acting the way he was, like he honestly couldn't care less whether or not Ryan was in his life. Which, y'know, Ryan might be able to let go had he not dug himself this deep and now he definitely needed Brendon around. They weren't codependent, not quite, but Ryan knew he'd subconsciously labelled Brendon one of his closest friends by now, something beyond the obvious default 'close friend' criteria Brendon had fallen into just by being in his old band. If all of this came crashing down, he'd at least be depressed about it, and that was a hefty understatement. He thought all of this, but here Brendon stood, completely casual after a few weeks of bare minimum contact - or that much, by Ryan's sort of (sort of? very) needy standards. Actually, he looked somewhat amused. Ryan felt the blood rush to his face, not anger but embarrassment, a rosy color settling over his cheekbones, along the bridge of his nose. He almost looked away, but the staredown seemed to make better points with Brendon.

You need to like, catch up on a lot of shit. Ryan screwed up his face a little, not quite offended but confused by the redirection. Okay, this totally wasn't the plan, but sure. By asking me, your secret ‘lover’, let’s say - we could say something else, really, but Ryan pursed his lips and shut up, with some effort - to watch Netflix with you, alone, you’re implying- you know what, nevermind. Ryan shook his head, rolled his eyes, he got the gist. Seriously, what a useless phrase. Why was he so into Brendon if he knew about this stuff, actively used it enough to have to explain it - whatever. Ryan mustered up the intensity enough to almost back Brendon into a corner, almost interrogate him about what the hell was going on, and then he felt defeated. Worse, he couldn't tell whether it was because of Brendon's insistence on staying away from him, or if he had worn himself too thin trying to cover both of their allotted spaces for a willingness to continue whatever was going on between them.

Brendon pressed further away from him, closer to the cold metal behind him, and Ryan seriously was sick of pursuing nothing. He considered walking away completely, let this conversation stay incomplete 'til he wasn't so stupidly affected by everything. I’m not stringing you along. Sometimes, I just don’t wanna fuck. Is that too difficult for you to believe? Ryan lifted his head and stared at him incredulously. Seriously? Brendon was the one who brought up fucking. Ryan had wanted to watch a movie. In fairness, that was a miscommunication, but when would Ryan ever use slang that wasn't years out of date? Either way. He couldn't believe what Brendon took him for. "Sometimes I don't, either, Brendon. I didn't think it went against your precious fucking rules to want to be your friend." Ryan paused, chewing the inside of his cheek, realizing that was sort of stupid to say out loud. They rarely called each other friends, as much as it happened in Ryan's head - maybe it was somewhat unfair to expect Brendon to participate in all of that.

Brendon worked himself up into the offensive, straightening up and crossing his arms, and, shockingly, none of the 'I'm over being angry because he's so dropdead gorgeous' passed through his head. No, Ryan was actually bitter, actually hurt though he wasn't certain he was anything close to a 'victim' here. In truth, he wasn't sure what the hell was going on anymore, whether they were anything anymore. Nothing. Just wanted you to be a little riled up for next time, that’s all. Ryan's messy thoughts stopped circling like a storm and he stared at Brendon, at a loss for words. Riled up for next time. Brendon shunned him on the off-chance their 'next time' might be a little more intense. Right, pin accusations at Ryan with 'sometimes I just don't wanna fuck.' Right. He shook his head after a few moments, blinking at Brendon. Walking away, once again, sounded like a great option.

Instead Ryan was moving closer, intent on messing with Brendon's head the same way he'd been messed with, because evidently their competitive streak never died. He angled himself until he could work his minimal height over Brendon again, push at his elbow until he could uncross his arms for him and hold him against the side of the bus. "Which is it, Brendon, 'sometimes I just don't wanna fuck,' or you want me to fuck you harder? We've got a hotel right behind us, and go fucking figure, your genius plan worked. I'm pissed at you." Ryan lifted his hand to brush against his jaw, featherlight, and from a third party, it certainly looked like a tender, intimate moment. Funny, that. He paused, inhaled, searching Brendon's face intently. "So pick."

[Neve]

Brendon knew that Ryan would be pretty much completely out of loop with modern slang, especially the one that Brendon just referred to, but still, he had to laugh at the accidental proposition Ryan was making to him- considering that usually if they were alone together things escalated to be much less innocuous and casual. Not always, though. Recently (or fairly recently considering Brendon’s frequent avoidance of Ryan in the past few weeks), they had both been content to just spend time together, hanging out like normal people did. They could fool themselves that it had always been like this, that their relationship hadn’t grown from something toxic and harmful to them both, but Brendon in particular. It was difficult, they were both learning to navigate it, still learning how to act and what was acceptable. But it had been improving- until Brendon, easily frustrated and hard to please, decided he was bored of the routine and wanted to spice things up a little. He didn’t miss being treated like shit, but he missed the intense way that they used to resolve things. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud- this was his substitute, annoying Ryan into that mood and letting things continue on from there.

But Brendon was playing with fire and if Ryan found out that he was intentionally refusing his company just to get a rise out of him, because he was bored and- basically wanted a different kind of sexual gratification, things would all go to shit and he didn’t want Ryan to hate him, that wasn’t the intention here. They just hadn’t learned to communicate what they wanted properly, weren’t willing to be that vulnerable yet, they were still trying to figure out how to navigate their strange relationship in a healthy way. Brendon clearly hadn’t got the hang of that yet and it was obvious when he decided to physically move backwards instead of owning up to Ryan’s accusations and explaining why he had been so- for lack of a better word, frigid. This close and this worked up, though, Ryan’s presence pressed him into flustered honesty and he stuttered out his reasoning haughtily as if it was perfectly normal and it was ridiculous that Ryan hadn’t already figured it out. Ryan- Ryan immediately didn’t look impressed, and Brendon began to chew on his lip nervously as he waited for Ryan to react. In the past when Ryan had been angry he’d either been deathly quiet, unable to convey his emotions, or explosively angry, or a combination of them all at different points. Brendon felt the hair on his arms prickle as he waited with anxious anticipation.

Sometimes I don’t, either, Brendon. Brendon was about to scoff, but that would be unfair. It was true, they both no longer needed to be intimiate to stand eachother’s company. It was no longer the sole thing bringing them together and it still scared him. Again, he’d never say that to Ryan’s face. I didn’t think it went against your precious fucking rules to be your friend. He looked up immediately, adamant, defiant, opening his mouth as if to protest, but he then dropped his head sullenly, something in his countenance changing. ”The- ‘precious fucking rules’- are for both of our benefits. You know that. We agreed. Don’t fucking pull that on me.” Hypocritical coming from Brendon, who had just given away his game plan. Still, he was obnoxious by nature and straightened up, trying to regain some surety in his defence, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his chin up to Ryan to stare him down as best he could, which- was difficult. He looked genuinely angry. Brendon’s eyes flicked around Ryan’s features rapidly, and he didn’t realise he was holding his breath.

He was about to say something, break the torturous silence, but Ryan was faster, caught him off guard and pinned him against the side of the bus with relative ease considering Brendon was too blindsided to resist or complain. Plus, once he was held there, he didn’t particularly want to. Which is it, Brendon, ‘sometimes I just don’t wanna fuck’, or you want me to fuck you harder? Brendon’s voice caught in his throat and all he could do for a good few seconds was stare, wide-eyed, until he composed himself enough to smirk and retort, ”I dunno, darlin’, have you got it in you?” Probably a poor choice of response, but then Brendon had very little sense of self preservation. We’ve got a hotel right behind us, and go fucking figure, your genius plan worked. I’m pissed at you. It probably wasn’t good that Brendon’s only coherent thought for a moment was ‘score’. He was also incredibly intimidated and turned on and this quickly brought out his dismally submissive side. He wet his lips and tore his gaze away from Ryan’s just to look at the hotel, then looked back, silent.

Brendon almost flinched when Ryan brought his hand up to brush against his jaw, and he was in the process of going lax against the cold metal of the bus. So pick. He risked a glance behind them again. Everyone from the other buses had unloaded and were about fifty feet away going towards the hotel by now. Unless somebody was late to wake up, they were relatively alone. He supposed risky was their brand at this point. ”I- I want you to fuck me,” He admitted, but he could barely look Ryan in the eye. He had reduced him into this so quickly and Brendon had been convinced that he had the upper hand. Oh well. ”But, uh, if you still wanna watch that movie...”

[jakob]

You'd think their main issue would be the fact that the foundation for whatever their relationship was now was something awful and mangled and toxic, but really, it was communication. If they didn't have that problem, Brendon would probably have expressed how bored he was in some way other than intentionally riling Ryan up. Truthfully they'd probably never said one honest thing to one another, except when Ryan became exhilerated learning how being genuine with Brendon made him react. That first night in Seattle, bringing all their subtext to the surface, for example; or sometimes when both of them became vulnerable, forgot how uncomfortable they were being casual with one another, and he'd let slip something affectionate or the offhanded 'baby' that he could catch a gentle smile in response just before Brendon glazed over it (and eventually Ryan did exactly the same). They were funny, that way. Except it wasn't that funny when you were part of all the irritating bullshit, experiencing it firsthand.

Ryan wasn't expecting to be the wrong one at any point in this conversation (he didn't in any conversation, for fuck's sake, but Brendon had just said 'just wanted you a little riled up for next time' when Ryan had missed him), but Brendon was suddenly looking at him defiantly and he backtracked, questioned himself. He rarely did that with Brendon, second-guessing his own words, but he was beginning to accept how completely wrong he was in the beginning of their 'friendship,' so he'd become more vigilant. In fact, he almost felt bad, watching Brendon's head drop, completely forgetting what started this confrontation for a moment. The- ‘precious fucking rules’- are for both of our benefits. You know that. We agreed. Don’t fucking pull that on me. Ryan paused, the anger in his gaze dying out, because, yeah, they agreed. Brendon hadn't given him much to agree to, but he knew, without Brendon having to say it, that not getting as attached as he was acting now was one of those rules. Unspoken. He recalled himself promising that he'd find some way around the rules, the 'only for this tour' that he figured he could win Brendon over on. Yeah, so he was being unfair. He only communicated his 'fine, fuck you, you win' through an unhappy expression, because of course his mouth couldn't form the words 'you win' in front of Brendon, or even pretend to compromise. Not in this state, anyway.

All he could actually bring himself to do was mess with Brendon, pressing him flush to the bus behind him, and for Christ's sake he had no idea what was going on around him he was so focused on getting Brendon back for this but he prayed no one could see them from this angle. Brendon, on the other hand, was only worried about maintaining his status of Most Annoying Bastard Alive. I dunno, darlin’, have you got it in you? It's like he prepares for this moments. It took everything in Ryan to just blow past that, ignore how much of an asshole the guy he was practically pining after was. He did it anyway, watching Brendon closely, and it appeared as though this worked for him, somehow. Ryan supposed it made sense. It's not like their constant fights before did anything to ween them off of the below-the-surface lust between the two of them, why should some level of aggression not do it for him now? Brendon was practically slack against the metal behind him, Ryan feeling his musces relax under the palm of his hand.

Brendon glanced over Ryan's shoulder and Ryan followed his gaze with a close eye, daring him to look back at him. I- I want you to fuck me. Ryan could have literally broken character then and there, burst into laughter at the fact that he'd not only actually said it but could barely maintain eye contact throughout the admission, but he held it together, simply smirking in response. But, uh, if you still wanna watch that movie... Ryan looked him over again, a soft, fond smile on his face while his eyes travelled from the ground beneath them, all the way back up to Brendon's eyeline. He shifted the hand at Brendon's jaw to crook behind his head, the one pinning him to the bus to settle on his lower back, and pulled him up closer for a kiss, long and punctuating. He hardly pulled away afterward, just rested his nose against Brendon's cheek and daintily tried to land more kisses against his skin. "Yeah. I do. Asshole." Ryan completely separated, hot to cold, and backed away from the bus, rolling his eyes. "Don't ever fuck with me like that again. What movie do you wanna watch?"

[Neve]

The first time they even met eachother, Brendon had crashed headfirst into a much taller Ryan whom he was to replace as frontman, and Ryan had snapped at him without even hesitating- ‘Who the hell is this guy, what is he fucking doing?’ When Brendon very hesitantly told him who he was, and Ryan realised that this guy was going to take his place, Brendon never even had a chance to apologise and greet eachother properly because Ryan had cast a betrayed and disbelieving look towards Spencer before turning on his heels and stalking away like some proud, wronged peacock. With terrible posture. Brendon didn’t dislike him immediately- he was just immensely confused. As far as he had been aware, the whole band had supported the idea of him becoming the new frontman. He was told of Ryan, but not warned about him. He often thought that if maybe he’d asked to actually meet the guy before he knocked him down off his high horse and bruised his apparently very fragile ego, maybe none of this would have happened. Brendon would still be working at a smoothie shack, or something. He used to fantasise about not being constantly trapped on a hot tour bus with somebody who hated his guts, but now- they’d move on a lot. A hell of a lot. He didn’t regret anything. Well- nothing he would admit.

So, they’d changed, but not enough, Brendon supposed. They’d never really been friends- when they weren’t fucking they hated eachother, when they weren’t doing either they were nothing. It wasn’t like they were just friends now, no, things were never that simple with them, but they were certainly learning to become more amicable towards one another. Brendon found he enjoyed Ryan’s company, felt warmth inside of him when Ryan smiled, felt a little leap in his chest whenever Ryan, say, just- said his name in a certain way. The thing was, they’d never learned to properly communicate, like adults. They’d always just been juvenile and antagonistic or they’d fuck to release the tension (marginally) less aggressively. So, though they no longer wanted to knock eachother out, they still hadn’t figured out how to talk about how they were feeling unless they were drunk, it was after 3am or they were crammed together in a bunk surrounded by nothing but the other. Even something they tended to be good at- physical intimacy- was a difficult topic, because Brendon would be asking for something, and apparently he wasn’t capable of doing that. He had to be difficult about it.

What they had a lot of practice in, though, was arguing- so when things escalated and became more heated, Brendon was off before the starting gun, defending himself before Ryan had even finished his sentence. The experience shone through there- Ryan didn’t exactly shrink, but he lost confidence in his point and fell silent, the sullenness plain on his face, etched into the lines of his face. Brendon was used to feeling something sick and twisted akin to triumph when he saw Ryan unhappy, it had been like he’d gotten a kick out of it, hardwired to feel so victorious. That malicious part of him had apparently been lost, thank god- all Brendon felt was remorse for being, perhaps unnecessarily forceful about something they were both sensitive about. He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t new, per say- they’d been growing closer, after all. Luckily or unluckily, depending on where each of them stood, Ryan didn’t hold back for long, losing his temper soon after and shoving him against the side of the bus against the cold metal. His oversized shirt had ridden up at the back and a stripe of skin on his lower back was pressed against it- he shivered, but didn’t dare to say anything.

Apparently, he had no dignity left, even if he did look fleetingly over Ryan’s shoulder to make sure they didn’t have some kind of gawking audience, Jon standing there speechless or Spencer ready to pull as many strings as he had to in order to call of the tour, or fans, somehow, who knew what hotel they’d be at it, what if- Well, he met Ryan’s eyes again, and all worry of that was no longer at the forefront of his mind. Brendon could barely look him in the eye when he exhaled his mortifying admission- small steps, he supposed. And Ryan was just- smirking. Daring to make eye contact, Brendon blinked uncertainly, eyes drifting down, down, down, to his mouth, to his chest, down to his waist and beyond, they were barely inches apart. After too long a quiet Brendon opened his mouth impatiently but Ryan didn’t give him chance to speak, moving his hands to find their natural place and then leaning in to kiss him. Brendon was still blinking when their lips met and it took him a second to kick into gear and sigh responsively against his mouth. This was so stupid, they were in a parking lot, they- Yeah. I do. Asshole. Brendon was grinning breathlessly, chest heaving. But then Ryan backed off just as Brendon felt like getting started.

Don’t ever fuck with me like that again. Still recovering, Brendon pressed himself entirely flat against the side of the bus and lifted his shirt at the front to wipe over his face before he dropped his folded his arms low over his chest and stood against the metal at such an angle so his hips jutted out before him. ”What’ll you do? Whatever that just was...” He tilted his head to the side. “I liked that.” When he started to move over, back to Ryan, eyes dark, the last thing he expected was for Ryan to turn around and- What movie do you wanna watch? Huh? Laughing that followed started off geniune but trailed off into awkward uncertainty when he realised- Wait, was he serious? ”Are you serious? I just told you I wanted you to fuck me,” He repeated, disbelieving- and slightly offended. ”Like- Well, what can we watch while I’m sitting on your dick?” He still wasn’t fully sure whether Ryan was pulling his leg. Hm.

[jakob]

They were getting better at not breaking one another's necks these days. Ryan had begun to pick up on more of Brendon's quirks – and that included his new quirks, even better – because of this new form of attention he had available to him, and instead of hating every cute little habit, he adored them. When he learned Brendon could accompany him somewhere and their sometimes conflicting separate band schedules had miraculously aligned, he became ecstatic. Hell, when he got a chance to talk about him, he didn't shut up. It was strange. Before, even in interviews, he'd been obvious; a journalist would ask about his relationship with Brendon, he'd clench his jaw and force out a 'we're friends' although they were, like, arch nemeses, and now he'd go on a tirade about how Brendon's new creative direction was good for him and how he was making the old band members proud and how he was a great friend. Yeah, when these tour interviews start getting traction, older fans will definitely have plenty of questions to ask about this one-eighty.

Anyway. Something happened a lot whenever Ryan kissed Brendon: he could almost fool himself into thinking, imagining, for a moment, that they were together, loving and sweet and unadulterated. They had some incredible chemistry, with a handful of things, and kissing, for them - when it wasn't full of angry fire like it often used to be, they looked, from a third party view, to be in love. Brendon sighed against his lips, and he almost forgot to be mad, nearly fucking forgave him when he grinned as if Ryan was kidding around about the movie. Well. Regardless of how loving they seemed, yes, Ryan was still pissed. So he continued being a little shit about it. If Brendon could get away with stringing him along, holding him by a leash, for that long, just on the off chance he'd get laid more satisfyingly, Ryan could damn sure get away with reacting fairly ridiculously. And he was only halfway done. Right now was followthrough time, 'cause Brendon tended to be too charming to not instantly forgive for, like, anything.

As Ryan backed up, Brendon flattened himself against the bus side even further, and Ryan suppressed the threatening smirk. Guess he got the lack of joke now. He watched him wipe his face, hang his body nonchalantly, generally act as if Ryan had thrown him for a genuine loop. Problem: Brendon knew his angles all too well. Ryan's gaze drifted along his silhouette, the easy slope of his waist in this position, the shape of his hips almost propping him up. 'kay, maybe what he did wasn't so bad. What’ll you do? Whatever that just was... Being scolded? Like a dog? I liked that. We get it. You're submissive, you're a bottom, whatever. Ryan raised his eyes to the sky, wondering if Brendon will ever get in trouble wth him and not get turned on because of it, Jesus Christ. "Clearly nothing is a good punishment for you." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders pulled inward, and looked beyond annoyed.

Brendon laughed at his question, fading away eventually, and Ryan eyed him testily, waiting for the punchline. Are you serious? I just told you I wanted you to fuck me. Ryan swore he was blushing, feeling warm. Fucking Brendon. Always having some effect regardless of how stupid the circumstances were. "Are you serious? You thought being an asshole to me would work to accomplish that." He talked big for someone seriously attracted to said asshole. Like- Well, what can we watch while I’m sitting on your dick? Ryan's jaw halfway dropped. Brendon had gone from refusing him for days to this - all right. Honestly, Ryan thought he'd be stupid to turn anything at all down now, but what would that say to Brendon - just ignore me and I'll do what you want? "For starters, you won't be, so." He tilted his head, eyed Brendon curiously.

He stepped closer again, hooking his thumbs in Brendon's belt loops, pulling him in a little. "If you apologized, told me you wouldn't do anything like that again, maybe I'd forgive you." Ryan actually sort of grinned, entertained by the concept alone of Brendon - or either of them, really, admitting they were wrong to each other. So he dangled a prize. "I'd fuck you senseless if you did that for me." He suddenly looked serious, hiding his amusement quickly and letting his lips part slightly, anticipatorily. For real. He'd picked the worst person to be into.

[Neve]

Honestly, Ryan should have learnt by now that any physical ‘punishment’ he was capable of carrying out and willing to carry out in response to Brendon being a little shit/annoying bastard/fucking asshole/et cetera was- not really a punishment. Brendon, though not exactly a stereotype, was- submissive. Dismally so. To say the least. The things that always used to get to him when they were less fine tuned at not killing eachother were the verbal insults- things very rarely ever escalated beyond that, anyway, but Ryan knew just how to push his buttons and push him over the edge that way. Now, when they were on much better terms, and had a much more physical and intimate side to their relationship? Ryan’s ‘punishments’ for Brendon’s (admittedly childish) behaviour were never exactly- effective. Well. That depending on what exactly Ryan wanted to achieve. If he wanted to turn Brendon on past the point of calming down, then he was golden- if he wanted to actually teach him a lesson about something, not so much. But Brendon wasn’t about to apologise. He’d like to invite Ryan to step into his shoes and get shoved against the side of a bus by a man, like, five inches taller than him, and see what his reaction was- remorse or an erection.

Anyway- it wasn’t a punishment, per say, but Brendon was clearly affected, stood at an angle with his back pressed still against the metal, his body sloping intentionally just so. Another person might’ve been embarrassed by how one kiss had him looking and acting like he’d just run a marathon, but Brendon had no dignity left. He was smirking blatantly, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes dark, watching Ryan intently as he shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. Honestly, what did the man expect? Clearly nothing is a good punishment for you. Brendon laughed, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back as if he was genuinely thinking about it. ”Actually,” He began, levelling a clearly irate Ryan with his gaze, ”That was a real fuckin’ good punishment for me. Please punish me more often.” He was the devil, in person. Brendon was grinning, still breathing hard, obviously very confident in the belief that things were going and would continue to go his way this evening. From where he was standing, his genius plan had worked and the primary goal on his brain now was to get to either of their hotel rooms as fast as was possible without being suspicious or blatantly obvious to the others.

Of course, that was with the presumption that Ryan actually wanted to do that. From what he’d seen from the poor man over the last few weeks, he was feeling kind of antsy. Brendon couldn’t imagine him turning down the opportunity, because he was coming from a similar place- a fundamental flaw in his scheme was that by depriving Ryan, he was also depriving himself. Interestingly, he’d had some internal conflict over that- they weren’t official or together or exclusive, so Brendon could find someone else and have a clear conscience afterwards, but- he didn’t want to. Ryan was the only one on his mind. He’d written Hurricane about Ryan, for fuck’s sake. He was just as obsessed as Ryan was- it just wasn’t as obvious and it showed up in different ways. Anyway, Ryan was blushing, Brendon was smirking, but then his ex bandmate threw him for a loop. Are you serious? You thought being an asshole to me would work to accomplish that. Perhaps. Just to drive his offer home, Brendon then casually allowed Ryan a looksee into his current fantasy and it was obvious it was somehow effective because Ryan’s jaw all but dropped.

And he was flushed- how cute. Brendon had folded his arms loosely across his chest and was stood there, proud and self-satisfied. He was just waiting for Ryan to accept his invitation. For starters, you won’t be, so. A spell of confusion passed over his features but then he nodded as if in sly understanding, like they were on the same page. They weren’t. ”That’s okay, baby, I’ll do whatever you ask me to. I’m just, uh. In the mood- for that.” He wasn’t kidding. Brendon was about to pipe up and be annoying yet again when Ryan once again invaded his space (he was more than welcome to do so), hooking his fingers into Brendon’s belt loops and pulling him close, away from the side of the bus. If you apologised, told me you wouldn’t do anything like that again, maybe I’d forgive you. Hm. Maybe Ryan really was delusional- apologising was a thing they only did for eachother on outstanding occasions, like Seattle or after Ryan kicked off about Ian or when they were being soft and vulnerable in the early hours of the morning.

Naturally, Brendon was about to strike up a deal that benefited him perhaps a little more, but Ryan wasn’t done and Brendon shut up, staring with fascination at his mouth. I’d fuck you senseless if you did that for me. Oh. Oh, he was serious. It was Brendon’s turn to flush as he rapidly weighed this dilemma- if he apologised, he’d get dick, but his pride would suffer a hard blow. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t get any dick, but his dignity would remain intact. Fragile, but intact. Sullen, he glanced at his feet and cleared his throat. ”I, uh- fuck. Okay. Ryan, I.” Brendon bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard. ”I’m sorry. I won’t- I won’t do anything like that again. Promise.”

[jakob]

Ryan was only sort of starting to understand Brendon's dynamics. Scratch that - he knew his reactions to everything before they were actually intimate with each other. You could've called them best friends if they weren't at each other's throats constantly, actually, he knew him that well. He'd learned that, if you throw in a little bit of a personal attack, like, on his personality or something stupid like that while criticizing his musical ability, it totally knocked him down a rung. And then when he stopped doing that - actually, when he realized he hated doing that and he much preferred seeing Brendon's smile or the solitary little squint when he did - Ryan learned that when he looked at Brendon a certain way, vulnerable enough to show fondness for once, Brendon would look away because he couldn't take so much for too long and it was beyond precious. But Ryan had only halfway begun this practice of actually telling Brendon when something bothered him, and, apparently, backing it up by being imposing had the opposite effect he was going for. Which he should have expected, he supposed, because their 'relationship' of sorts stood on a foundation of malice.

And, honestly, now that he was actually talking to Brendon again, he was starting to forget why he was mad in the first place. What was a little time apart when Brendon was here now? And looking like that - slanted at such an angle Ryan could practically feel him under his fingertips already. Wait, hold on - he was still mad. Shit. Actually, that was a real fuckin’ good punishment for me. Please punish me more often. Ryan chewed his lip, uncertain and, unfortunately, incredibly attracted to the Devil himself right now, but he kept his hands in his pockets and a safe handful of inches away. The thing was, Brendon apparently still thought something was going to happen here, and Ryan was a tiny bit afraid of the repercussions when he realized he wasn't going to, in Brendon's words, 'get dicked down' within the next thirty minutes. Or, not even tonight, if Ryan's willpower held out. Sure, he was getting more sentimental these days, kept catching himself on the whole 'boyfriend' train of thought whenever his mind drifted to the idea of Brendon at all, but he was still irresistible in every other way. So.

Plus, he was too charming, made it very difficult to continue turning him down. For someone whose lyrics Ryan used to pretend to hate all the time, he really had a way with words. Ryan declined anyway, somehow, and after a pause Brendon looked like he knew exactly what was going on - whatever he was thinking about, he was wrong. That’s okay, baby, I’ll do whatever you ask me to. I’m just, uh. In the mood- for that. Ryan shook his head, but the more he talked about it the more Ryan was in the mood, too, that asshole, so he rolled his eyes again as obnoxiously as he could to brush it off before pulling Brendon closer to him, turning on the charm - not like he could really measure up to the competition, here. Though evidently it worked for him, when he was being vaguely intimidating. Brendon looked iffy only momentarily before he continued, knowing already that 'sorry's weren't their thing, and then he was staring, so. Things looked good so far.

Brendon looked at his feet and Ryan took that moment to break composure, grin off a very suppressed laugh, before biting his lip instead and going back to seriousness. I, uh- fuck. Okay. Ryan, I. Suddenly it was a little less funny. He rarely saw Brendon stumble like this, much less when he was talking directly to him, and. Weirdly, it was affecting. Yeah, they definitely still had a bizarre dynamic. He watched him struggle out the two words they never said to each other, fascinated. I’m sorry. I won’t- I won’t do anything like that again. Promise. Ryan's lips parted, a lot less intense looking, almost forgiving because Brendon was really, really never like this. Even if the remorse was fake, he was a convincing actor. For a second Ryan betrayed the unspoken 'not boyfriends' rule, smoothing his thumb adoringly over the tiny scar in his eyebrow, over his temple, his cheekbone; he let his fingers comb through his hair, easily, fluidly. What a dumbass. "You really thought," he said, a grin finding its way on his face again, all of his features lighting up.

Ryan moved away again, reaching out to tug Brendon's wrist and guide him away - an inch away from his impulse to hold his hand, truthfully. "You're adorable. But I'm in charge. How about Fight Club? Doesn't do the book justice, if you ask me." Okay, they'd seen it together before, and it was pretty much identical to the book. But he knew Ryan and all his peculiarities anyway. Plus, not like that would be the thing bothering Brendon, of all this.

[Neve]

So, though he was arguably in the wrong, Brendon had a few advantages here. First of all, he knew just how attracted Ryan was to him- he’d known that even before that fated night in Seattle, when Ryan had kissed him with a passionate fervour, spitting insults at him between kisses but coming back for more after each offence nonetheless. Now, when their mutual magnetism was undeniable, it was much easier to just slouch deliberately back, push his hips forward, loll his head to one side and look at Ryan from under his eyelashes, not even trying to seem like he was innocent. He could meet Ryan’s eyes and trap his bottom lip between his teeth and the flash of uncertainty and the twitch of his fingers told him everything that he needed to know. Brendon had the upper hand- in his mind, give it another half an hour, and he’d get his ‘reward’ of sorts after the difficult weeks of turning Ryan down. Which was funny, because prior to that, Brendon had been the insatiable one- not just sexually, but he seemed to have a constant thirst for attention and eventually, affection, secretly enjoying just being held in Ryan’s arms just as much as he enjoyed. Being held against a wall or down onto a bed. Yeah, though they were becoming closer and more open, it would take a while for him to be able to admit that.

And that gentleness was the furthest thing from Brendon’s mind right then. He hadn’t even touched Ryan in so long and he was driving him crazy- he was so hot, Brendon want to attach his mouth to the junction of his neck and shoulder and move down, all the way to his hipbones, drive him a little crazy. His head was clouded with less than innocuous scenarios and he was both dumbfounded and frustrated that Ryan was wasting time by pretending that he wasn’t up for it. Though- the look on Ryan’s face. Maybe he was serious. Though Brendon had proposed how they spend the rest of their day already, Ryan seemed dead set on watching some dumbass film on Netflix, and though at first Brendon thought he was just joking, of course he was, why would he pass up this after so long, he’d seemed so desperate waiting outside Brendon’s tour bus like a loyal puppy, it appeared after a few moments that Ryan wasn’t kidding. He wanted an apology, and though Brendon wasn’t dumb enough to think that if he apologised all would be forgiven and they’d be comfortably locking the door behind them in one of their hotel rooms pretty soon, it was, he decided, worth the humiliation of apologising. So he swallowed his pride- and, while he was trying to think of what to say, he actually thought about what he had done. How he was currently treating and regarding Ryan. Like he was desperate, just a convenience to Brendon, when- that wasn’t true.

Brendon liked him, he really did. More than he cared to admit, or rather, more than he was able to admit. Once he had thought about this he settled a little, shifted on his feet nervously as Ryan held him close by his belt loops. He daren’t look him in the eye, especially after such a promise- if he was lucky and sincere enough, Ryan had mentioned something along the lines of fucking him senseless, so. What did he have to lose? Brendon cleared his throat one last time before stuttering out an apology, that, though a little bashful, was geniune. He didn’t want to do anything like that again. He had realised it was childish and entitled and the solution wasn’t even that far-fetched; they just had to talk to eachother, like they were doing now. Brendon’s voice was sullen (as his ego still suffered some bruising) but earnest, and once he’d finished, he looked up at Ryan hopefully, eyes lingering on his parted lips. There was a moment where Brendon held his breath, eyelashes fluttering as Ryan drew his long fingers through his hair, not quite letting himself off the hook enough to smile.

And he was right to do so. You really thought. Confused, Brendon refocused his vision and found himself staring at his smile, that grin that told him everything he needed to know. He’d just been played and outed for just how much he was willing to sacrifice (e.g. his pride) to get dicked down. And it wasn’t even going to pay off. Brendon drew back, offended. ”What?” He demanded, incredulous, tugging his hand backwards in a vain attempt to try and escape his grasp when Ryan wrapped his fingers around his wrist. ”But- I wanna suck yourdick,” He complained, trailing along behind him like an infant having a temper tantrum. This was so unfair. You’re adorable. ”You’re a lying bastard.” But I’m in charge. Suppose he couldn’t argue much there. As bratty as Brendon tended to be sometimes, Ryan was in charge in more ways than one. Unfortunately. How about Fight Club? Doesnt do the book justice, if you ask me. Brendon glared at the back of his head as he was pulled along. ”I haven’t fucking read the book, anyway, shithead,” He muttered, though stopped trying to resist as he was pulled through the hotel doors and into the lobby.

Brendon pulled his wrist free finally and stood with his arms folded like some kind of tiny, angry puppy, too small and precious to be taken seriously. Still- when Ryan beckoned him to the elevator, Brendon followed. Of course he did. He was holding onto hope that he’d be able to seduce Ryan and this whole shitshow would be worth it, finally. They could watch fight club afterwards, or something. No rush. Stepping in front of Ryan, Brendon pressed the call button on the elevator and waited in silence until the doors opened. He stepped onto it and turned around immediately, waiting for Ryan to step inside and the doors to close until he lunged forwards and tangled his fingers in Ryan’s hair, crashing into him to kiss him so hard that if he hadn’t have, like, tilted his head, he would’ve broken his nose. Kissing him lecherously for a good long few moments, Brendon pulled back only to speak, standing propped up on the tips of his toes. ”Please,” He murmured. ”I’ll be good for you.”

[jakob]

Right, maybe this was a complete one-eighty - Ryan had immediately flounced along to wait for Brendon outside of his bus as soon as they reached their destination, and then he'd been all 'boyfriend I missed you please miss me back,' whatever, the first words out of his mouth. The impatience took a minute to actually kick in. He had some leverage now, a touch of an upper hand, and he'd never seen himself as much the type to let power get to his head but he was actually mad at Brendon for putting distance between them (rather than what used to make him angry: the exact opposite). So. He wasn't going to give Brendon what he wanted, even if he was so painfully cute that it was almost convincing enough to make him forget why he was irritated with him in the first place. Ryan could be world renowned for his fragile ego, truthfully, and what hurt his ego more than anything else right now was the idea that he might be more interested in Brendon than Brendon was in him. Not physically, not sexually, nothing surface level as that; he'd developed this connection with him that couldn't quite be explained. Or, well. Maybe it wasn't a connection if it was beginning to seem a bit one sided.

They were immature, though, so his natural comeback was to bruise Brendon's ego right back. An apology. It almost sounded sincere - except Ryan wasn't used to that, couldn't discern whether he was making up the genuine tone in Brendon's voice or maybe it was the most bullshit apology of all time and he just wanted to, for lack of any phrase more accurate to them, kiss and make up. Luckily, Ryan had grown adept at knowing Brendon's facial expressions - he'd run him through enough emotions to know which ones were true and which ones were like his stage act, fabricated, overdramatized. The hopeful look on his features, almost reassuring, encouraging, his baited breath; that was all real. And Ryan liked him so much, even in that moment, even when he had a laugh on the tip of his tongue because apologies were just so bizarre between them, rarely true and often sarcastic. That's why, he supposed, he couldn't let him off the hook this time. If they were ever going to work, then...

Well. He was getting ahead of himself. To his knowledge, Ryan was the only one who wanted anything to 'work' between them. There were rules, and he remembered them distinctly, just didn't care much to follow them. Instead of letting his tangential, affectionate thoughts become known, Ryan was playful, backing away but pulling Brendon with him. What? He felt Brendon tug against his grip, and didn't even have to look behind him to know that, yes, they looked like mother and misbehaving child in the middle of a shopping mall, kid wants a $12.99 toy and mom desperately wants to get to the car. Ryan grinned to himself, not even bothering to hold tighter, 'cause clearly even his slack vice was enough to keep Brendon in line. But- I wanna suck your dick. Ryan actually did glance back that time, an eyebrow raised, because really, did Brendon not give a fuck about his ego anymore? You’re a lying bastard. Maybe a little. "You're the douche who wouldn't talk to me. We're even." On the surface, those were some biting words, but he sounded fairly content with the situation nonetheless.

I haven’t fucking read the book, anyway, shithead. Ryan put his back to the door to push it open, facing Brendon and looking almost soft, like they weren't berating each other back-and-forth. "I'll read it to you sometime," he offered, nonchalant, and a moment longer of looking at him felt meaningful, somehow. Maybe he missed him more than he realized. Even when he was being an annoying bastard. Brendon tugged free in the lobby, and Ryan didn't protest, knowing one of their rules was to stay hush-hush and him dragging Brendon along with a stupid smile on his face probably wasn't the picture of secrecy he was aiming for. He pursed his lips, set his expression, let his hands slip into his pockets while Brendon crossed his arms, obviously upset. Since the seven year old rockstar appeared to be occupied with his temper tantrum, Ryan took their keycards from the counter and guided them to the elevators, letting Brendon call it down and watching him from the corner of his eye just to see how long he could keep up the dramatics.

Things didn't look promising, but then the elevator arrived, and as soon as Ryan stepped on he was pressed against the bars running alongside the three walls of the elevator, blindsided by Brendon's intensity. Ryan didn't quite respond - though he probably should have expected this - for a good three seconds, hands frozen in the air around him before finally resting against Brendon's back, fingertips pressing down securely, tilting his own head and shutting his eyes until they were properly slotted together like they were so used to. It occurred to him that after his huge effort to make a point, maybe this wasn't the best follow-up, but. Fuck it. This was reflex, natural instinct. When Brendon pulled back he let his head thump against the wall, looking down through his eyelashes, lips parted. Please. I’ll be good for you. Ryan was silent, feeling, like, butterflies in his chest even though this was the stupidest invocation for such a thing, and he was so teetering on the edge of saying something stupid like yeah, sure, okay, sure. Or another equally nonsensical, counterproductive response.

But there was a ding, and Ryan panicked, because surely it hadn't been long enough for them to get to their floor and thus someone was about to walk into this mess, so he pulled Brendon forward with him, letting go when he could lean against the railing too and they almost looked innocuous - except for the fact that Ryan's hair was everywhere and he looked white as a ghost, leave for a very flustered blush. He was holding his breath when he looked up at the level, realizing that, yes, they were actually at their floor and he was just that caught up in the moment, and the doors slid open to reveal fucking no one. At all. Ryan let go a long exhale, embarrassed, sparing a sideways glance at Brendon. "You didn't convince me," he argued uncertainly, beating Brendon to the chase before he could celebrate the victory of making Ryan almost agree with him. Almost.

Ryan stepped out, blocking the door from closing until Brendon came along, too, and headed towards the room that matched their keycard, fussing with his hair to get it back into place the whole way through. "I'm trying to be mad at you, here," he said, though with both arms raised, sifting through his hair, and his almost good-humoured tone, it didn't seem all that weighted. He gave up and dropped his arms at the door, curls falling loosely, and swiped their keycard mechanically to let them in. "So stay five feet away at all times. Demon." Ryan swung around in the middle of the room, raising his eyebrows and using both index fingers to make a cross. He dropped his hands and practically collapsed into an armchair, face turned to the ceiling, sighing long-sufferingly.

[Neve]

You're the douche who wouldn't talk to me. We're even. Okay, okay, so Brendon would accept that what he had done was stupid and wrong, but what he couldn’t wrap his head around was that Ryan had approached him, no waited for him outside the tour bus, and now that Brendon had apologised just like Ryan asked him to and he meant it, suddenly Ryan had the libido of a dessertspoon. On the surface, anyway. Brendon wasn’t an idiot and he knew when he was getting under Ryan’s skin- he’d known him long enough to have figured out what made him tick. And now, not just in a cruel way. Anyway, at this point Brendon had abandoned the useless concept of ego- some things he just valued more. Ryan’s approval, for example. It may have seemed like he only cared about the physical side (after all, he had been willing to dodge him for weeks just to increase his own sexual gratification next time, the epitome of selfish), but he never wanted to upset Ryan, he wanted to be forgiven and wanted things to be okay with them, because. He’d missed him. Not just... Particular parts of him. He wasn’t a fuckboy (though many, likely including Ryan, would vehemently disagree).

”I said I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me-“ He cut himself off at the end to prevent his voice trailing off into a childish, grumbling tone, and fell silent instantaneously, allowing himself to be dragged along towards the entrance of the hotel. Ryan was pushing the door open with his back and Brendon faced him defiantly, perfecting the role of child having a tantrum and refusing to cooperate. Or, at least, cooperating, but with the least amount of enthusiasm possible. I’ll read it to you sometime. Brendon raised his eyebrows and tried his utmost to look as disgusted as possible. It wasn’t hard. ”That’s okay, I’d rather get cholera and die.” Once they were in the lobby, Brendon pulled away to make his point- but followed Ryan anyway when he had the freedom to go off to his own room. Again, fuck dignity. This was more important. Brendon knew exactly who and what his priorities were. He stayed dutifully and suspiciously quiet and refrained until the elevator doors closed behind them, and then Brendon sprang into action, part-Whatever of trying to convince Ryan that not dicking him down was not the way to go.

As expected, Ryan was surprised, but Brendon stayed persistent, batting his eyelashes at him like he was some kind of cartoon, pressing him firmly against the bars along the walls of the elevator and tilting his head, imploring him to maybe give him a chance, it’ll be worth it. C’mon, Ryan, how long are you really gonna keep this up? There was a long (or a seemingly long) period of silence, of nothing, inaction, but then Ryan’s hands were around him (where they should be) and Brendon felt a gentle flutter of his heart combined with a beat of triumph. He had Ryan wrapped around one finger and he knew it, he just- had to figure out how to coax him fully into forgiveness. This seemed to be working. Brendon was leaning in to meet him in a soft kiss but Ryan had already pulled away and the elevator doors were already open. Fuck. Opportunity missed. Brendon grimaced and watched Ryan, waiting for his next move, letting his hands drop down to his sides, dejected. You didn’t convince me. The unsure waver of his voice told Brendon that that wasn’t entirely true, but he refrained from smirking, just smiled at him barely, sweetly. ”Mh-Hm.”

He then followed, his shoulders relaxed, now, his body held lax and a little more sure of himself. His eyes remained fixed on Ryan the entire time- as they walked through the hallway down to their room, as Ryan fumbled with the keycard, as he messed up his curly hair, as he walked into the room, and even as he shut the door- he remained facing Ryan and kicked the door shut, biting his lip. Ryan was trying to fix his hair in vain and Brendon was watching him affectionately, like he hung the stars in the sky. Even if, y’know. He was being annoying right now. They were more alike than people gave them credit for. I’m trying to be mad at you here. Brendon raised his eyebrows, standing with his arms folded across from his ex bandmate. ”Why, love? Seems counterproductive to me.” He cleared his throat, and tilted his head as Ryan brought his fingers up to form a cross in front of him, amused. So stay five feet away at all times. Demon. As Ryan collapsed, seemingly in defeat, into the armchair, Brendon reassessed his methods. Being a little shit clearly hadn’t worked, but- then again, ‘little shit’ was a broad term. Being sweet wouldn’t work, Ryan would just want to cuddle or some shit. Brendon narrowed his eyes and then moved forwards towards him.

He dropped gracefully to his knees in front of Ryan, not smiling at all. Every moment fluid, he brought his arms up and resting both of his elbows on either one of Ryan’s knees, then rested his chin in his hands, blinking up at him as a curl of hair fell out of place and over his eyes. He sucked on his teeth and made eye contact for a second before his eyeline dropped and so did one of his arms, crossing over to the opposite leg and trailing his fingers up along Ryan’s thigh. One hand still propped up his head. ”Ryan,” He began, ”Baby. I’m a clever boy, sometimes. So- I understand your point, okay? You’re in charge, I was wrong, I deserve a slap on the wrist. So- please. Let me make it up you.” His eyes followed the path of his hand and he stopped at Ryan’s upper thigh before he unfolded his legs and shifted gracefully into poor Ryan’s lap. ”I’m sorry, really.”

[jakob]

I said I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me- Ryan tossed a look over his shoulder at him wonderingly, curious to know if maybe he was, if maybe he did miss Ryan the same way Ryan missed him, if maybe Ryan did hold that importance in his life. But. Brendon was an enigma, when it came to his real emotions and not just the ones he wanted to display. He may look like an open book, but he was far from it. Instead of answering, he stayed silent, wary of the strolling patrons in the lobby, the concierge, the receptionist, everyone. As if anyone would really spare them a second glance in their ratty bus attire. That’s okay, I’d rather get cholera and die. Ryan smirked, envisioning the concept of him reading to Brendon anyway, and it sounded silly but it could be sweet. Not Palahniuk, of course, he wasn't quite the epitome of romance, but poetry, quotes from less intense authors, what have you. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. "It'll be romantic, Brendon." He said his name too playfully, testing their limits.

When they kissed, for a second, it was like they'd never been in this little petty fight - if you could call it that. They'd certainly had worse; in fact, this was probably the smallest scale he'd ever seen between them. In any case, he melted into it, forgetting everything but familiarity, the comfort of knowing someone so well for so long that they felt like home. And that was becoming less of a strange concept, the closer they became - Brendon being home for him. He was annoying and persistent, but he was what kept Ryan curious, what kept the days from blurring together, the only thing that welcomed change and inconsistency and the delightful anxiety that came with an ever-shifting routine. His hands fit easily around Brendon's waist, reposeful, and in the silence it seemed like the elevator would never stop. They were in here, dynamic duo, the pairing of an era, unstoppable, for whatever time was available. And that was all very ridiculous of him, sure, but it'd been a while since they'd been this close, and Ryan was sentimental and dumb and easily attached, and now Brendon was saying 'I'll be good for you' and he felt all his senses short out, or something.

So when the elevator did stop and the fantasy ended in a jumbled panic, Ryan was embarrassed and relieved simultaneously. If they had even one more floor to go up he'd probably be rushing out bated agreements. He stepped out of the elevator, immediately defending his too-long hesitation, how obviously easy he was, and Brendon knew. That smile. Ryan's gaze was too tender, so he turned away determinedly. Mh-hm. Ryan was silent for a few moments, and because Brendon was quiet, too, odd behavior for him, he glanced over again, picking up on the newfound confidence in his posture. "Shut up," he said, even though Brendon hadn't said a word, and pointedly ignored the fact that he could feel Brendon's attention fixated on him the whole way to their room. It's not that it was bothersome, or anything like that; it made him wistful, somehow charmed that Brendon could chase this long. For someone like Ryan, of all people, no less. He knew he was still blushing even as he fumbled with their door, entered the room, hid his face as much as he could.

When Brendon kicked the door shut Ryan instinctively turned to trace the sound, catching him looking on fondly and almost shrinking from it. Seriously. He was easy. Why, love? Seems counterproductive to me. Love. He really was a demon. Ryan opened his mouth to actually answer, something angry and accusatory if he could make it up on the spot, but his voice apparently was gone for the time being, so he shut up. He thought, at best, Brendon would tire of this and go pass out in bed, maybe on the couch to Ryan's right, but he approached moments after Ryan had fallen into his chair. Ryan regarded him carefully, turning his head from where it'd been facing the ceiling, and short-circuited when he dropped to his knees. Brendon looked dead serious. Ryan nearly moved to sit up straighter, worried, but froze when Brendon placed his elbows over his knees, gaze flicking everywhere for a few counts before settling on Brendon's.

And he was beautiful. Infuriatingly so. His hair fell over his face, and Ryan's impulse was, as usual, to fix it, but he was still solid as ice - even as Brendon trailed his fingers up his thigh. Ryan's fingers twitched over either armrest, having been slack, useless, through the ordeal. Ryan, baby. Ryan was beyond screwed. Past the point of no return. He was way too into him. Demon. I’m a clever boy, sometimes. So- I understand your point, okay? You’re in charge, I was wrong, I deserve a slap on the wrist. So- please. Let me make it up you. 'Okay' was the immediate response in his head, and he was actually glad his voice had run for the hills already, otherwise he'd have uttered it stupidly, automatically. His lips were parted, prepared to do something to either stop this in its track or dumbly go along with whatever Brendon was plotting, until his hand stopped its path and he moved instead into Ryan's lap. I’m sorry, really.

Ryan stared at him, honey gaze meeting his silken one, and he felt almost guilty. Here was Brendon, screwing around, lively, and Ryan was completely involved. This wasn't even serious enough to be truly nervous, and here he was, on the spot. "I can't follow your rules," he blurted out, sudden, impulsive, and stilled again, eyes intent on Brendon's. He supposed the out-of-nowhere confession came from this desire for Brendon to like him back, to accept the 'boyfriends' concept even when it'd never worked before. They were in different circumstances now, so. Another chance, he guessed, was a good idea, or at least a feasible one. "I can't do this for just one tour. I- I was afraid that I was losing valuable time, when you weren't talking to me, and. I like you. So." He was talking oddly fast, and then he placed anxious hands on either side of Brendon's waist, distantly aware that this gave him grounds to walk out. After a pause, he regretted it, backtracked. "I mean. No, whatever, I forgive you, we can- the bedroom's right there. Sorry." Ryan framed his face with his hands, moving ridiculously fast, planted a desperate kiss on his cheek, and shifted forward on the seat as if about to stand, one hand on Brendon's back and the other securing his head. "Okay? Past is the past, bygones, you know; forget what I said."

[Neve]

It’ll be romantic, Brendon. If Ryan had said this to him a few months ago, even in jest, it would have made Brendon deeply uncomfortable and uneasy- because although they were on significantly better terms, the intimate aspect of their relationship was still almost wholly physical in nature, everything else, emotional and otherwise, tended to be surface level; friendly, tolerable, nothing more. Now, though, in a perplexingly fast change that began to unfold at the start of this dumb arranged tour, they were much closer, not only as ‘lovers’ (though such a word was only used very loosely) but as friends. Not only did they feel a melodramatically intense passion for eachother, but- they liked eachother. To others, unfamiliar with how ridiculous and childish their situation was and how deep the roots of their original mutual hatred had been planted, it wasn’t a big deal- but to Brendon and Ryan, who had been constantly at eachothers throats for pointlessly wasted years of their lives, it was huge. They played video games together, watched TV, worked on their own lyrics in comfortable silence and occasionally risked asking for an opinion, or often just sat and talked as friends did. Ryan reading to him- these days it wasn’t all that far-fetched.

Even considering their current feud, which was a product of Brendon being a thirsty bastard and still being more than incapable of having an extremely vulnerable discussion with Ryan. Hey, they’d gotten better, but honest communication was still one of their weak points. That was clear then when after his heartfelt, mortifying apology hadn’t worked in winning Ryan over, Brendon instead turned to just pushing him up against the side of an elevator and kissing him in an attempt to just seduce him into being a little more cooperative. Usually, that worked, but Ryan was clearly trying to stay strong and stay mad at him. Brendon had melted into the kiss and into Ryan’s hands and he was way too involved in it when the elevator opened and Ryan all but shoved him aside. Huffing out a brief sigh in disappointment, Brendon was about to complain after he realised Ryan’s anxious measures to prevent discovery were for naught, but then he realised- he had the advantage. Ryan had been practically pliant. So he settled down, preened his metaphorical feathers and followed Ryan with a little triumphant smile.

Shut up. Brendon grinned. ”Didn’t say a word, Ry,” He said softly, shrugging a shoulder and waiting for an obviously flushed Ryan to enter the room so he could follow and they could finally have some privacy. The door slammed shut once he had kicked it, and in contrast to this supposed display of short temper, Brendon’s features were gentle and fond and the only emotion he could muster was affection, and- well. Amongst other things, but Ryan probably wouldn’t appreciate being told again just how much Brendon waited him to, like, fuck him until he couldn’t walk. Brendon was impulsive and didn’t think a lot before he spoke but he wasn’t that stupid. Maybe. Watching carefully, Brendon shuffled forward as Ryan collapsed into his chair before closing the distance between them in a few confident strides and dropping fluidly onto his knees before him. If this didn’t work- nothing would, Brendon might as well hang up his hat right there and then.

Ryan tensed, he felt it under his fingertips when he trailed his hands up his thigh, and Brendon was smiling, fascinated by his responsiveness and amused by how desperately he tried to hide it. Once he was satisfied with how speechless Ryan was, he moved gracefully up into Ryan’s lap, sitting there like he had so many times, falling right into place, like he kind of just belonged there. There were so many evil things he could do, but- he decided to be merciful and just grovelled some more, staring into Ryan’s honey-brown eyes and batting his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon character. If anything, Brendon was good at getting what he wanted. Anyway, he was almost certain he was going to get what he wanted, when- I can’t follow your rules. Brendon blinked, staring back, suddenly taken off guard. I can’t do this for just one tour. Okay, So- he wasn’t that surprised. Brendon wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew how much Ryan liked him, he just- wasn’t willing to admit how much he liked Ryan. Things were never simple with them. I- I was afraid that I was losing valuable time, when you weren’t talking to me, and. I like you. So. Ignoring Ryan’s hands settling around his waist, almost as if he was trying to ground himself, Brendon instead focused on how fast Ryan was talking. He was nervous. He was fucking beautiful. A pause. A long overdue confession. ”I like you, too.”

The words sounded alien and yet so damn right, and he was going to continue, but evidently Ryan had found fault with his own admittance and was trying to move along, dust it quickly back under the rug from whence it came. I mean. No, whatever, I forgive you, we can- the bedroom’s right there. Sorry. Brendon followed his gaze to the bedroom door and though something still stirred inside of him, he was largely still thinking about how vulnerable Ryan must feel. He seemed desperate, desperate to move on and keep Brendon close. Brendon wanted to assure him he wasn’t going nowhere, so he pushed Ryan back against the back of the armchair, caught him in a fond, lecherous kiss, open-mouthed, trying to sate him into calming down. Brendon’s fingers curled into his hair and he pulled back, lips parted. ”You don’t need to apologise,” He murmured. ”Me not talking to you because I thought that was the best way to communicate with you what I wanted- Stupid. I know that now.” A knowing smile. Okay? Past is the past, bygones, you know; forget what I said.

”Yeah, That isn’t gonna be possible,” Came Brendon’s reply as he arched his eyebrows. ”But, I tell you what, babe. You take me through there- you do to me as you please, and then- we can talk about it. Properly. I promise.”

[jakob]

Didn’t say a word, Ry. Well, he didn't have to go and do that. Ryan was blushing already. 'Ry,' the tone of his voice - it seemed everything Brendon did was a ploy to make him feel even more stupidly affectionate. That and the whole dramatic show of Brendon dropping to his knees before him. Ryan knew he was obvious, knew no matter what measures he took to hide himself in any way it was really just Brendon who he couldn't keep anything from, and that was, unfortunately, the worst case scenario. He'd have taken literally anyone else to see through all of his acts, it'd be less embarrassing; alas, he was stuck with Brendon being able to call him on every lie, able to catch him when he was hiding an emotion, able to keep him from hiding things in the first place, as was the case now. He couldn't even pretend there wasn't a magnetism that made Ryan practically vibrate with responsiveness. Even when Brendon shifted up into his lap, all he could do was naturally catch him, hold him in place, hands gentle on his back.

Except Ryan was a huge, massive, ginormous idiot, and he had to ruin everything with his equally gigantic sentimental mouth. Brendon just stared back, and Ryan couldn't read anything from his dark, dark eyes, couldn't discern something to ease his nerves. He honestly had no idea what kind of terms they were on. Probably good, but then, probably not 'emotionally connected' good in the way Ryan had made himself to be. Well. He let himself get this way. There was nothing conscious about it. For a few moments they were both quiet. I like you, too. Ryan's chest had been tight with anxiety already and he felt it worsen, charmed, excitability piqued, when the potential for Brendon to feel the same had maxed out - but he was probably just... maybe this was to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. He still couldn't read anything in Brendon's face, he had no idea. So. He panicked. Very typical for him.

Ryan backtracked, fearful even as Brendon saying he liked him back echoed in his ears - and how middle school was that, two idiots admitting they liked each other when real adults in their right mind just found an appropriate word for their relationship until the actual 'L' word was safe to use. No, Brendon and Ryan liked each other. He shrunk under Brendon's gaze, but then he was pushing him back against the cushion, meeting him in a kiss beyond just 'too much' right now for Ryan. Open-mouthed, impassioned, Ryan responded only dizzily, a hand rising up tentatively as if he meant to curl it into Brendon's hair but every nerve was too shot to focus on doing much of any moving. As it were, his eyelids fell slowly, muscles slackening until he was relaxed against the seatback, and the hand unsure of where to go finally fell slowly against Brendon's shoulder, boneless. 'I like you, too.' Maybe he did. Maybe he did and there was nothing to be afraid of - or he did and there was everything to be afraid of. Either way, this was a scenario that he did, and Ryan was exhilerated by the thought.

Brendon pulled back and his mouth looked red, distracting; like clockwork, Ryan touched his lower lip with his thumb, index curled under his chin. He was so... yeah, yeah, you get the picture. You don’t need to apologise. Ryan probably could've cried, if that were his thing. In this case he just felt choked up, like there was a bauble in his throat, eyes wide and unfocused. Me not talking to you because I thought that was the best way to communicate with you what I wanted- Stupid. I know that now. Alright, well, this wasn't an elaborate way to punish him for that, and - Ryan wouldn't tell him in a million years, but it was starting to be kind of funny, what his logic had been. In response to the knowledge in Brendon's expression, Ryan just nodded slightly, forgiving. He said as much and detracted from his original confession again, in case... in case Brendon needed a way out of this conversation, or something. In case he felt obligated to say all of this.

[i]Yeah, that isn’t gonna be possible.[i] Fuck. But, I tell you what, babe. You take me through there- you do to me as you please, and then- we can talk about it. Oh, Christ. It's like he had a vendetta. Properly. I promise. Well, now Brendon had his mind all over the place - some in the gutter, some hopelessly, helplessly getting carried away in sentiments and grandeur and 'holy shit he feels the same.' Also, 'holy shit he's being mature.' Somehow, even being the exact opposite of himself, Brendon was stupidly attractive. Ryan was still for a few beats before finally he looped his arms carefully around Brendon, turned them both until their sides were facing the seatback and Brendon was nestled, tiny, in the corner of the chair, Ryan's hand cushioning his head, the rest of him so close they were no longer Brendon and Ryan but BrendonandRyan, BrendonandRyan who like each other and were going to talk about it properly and didn't scare the other one off. Ryan kissed him the same way Brendon had moments ago, only slower, longingly, like this was the first time ever.

Following that, once he was out of breath, Ryan kept him in a warm embrace, mouth attached the to the junction of his neck and shoulder, barely able to move like he'd want to to follow Brendon's clear instructions of 'you do to me as you please.' Rather, he was still speechless. "You're serious," he murmured, evidently still finding the idea of reciprocation far out. Ryan paused, then pulled back, examining Brendon's face before deciding, yeah, he was going to test his own ability to be fully genuine and honest. He combed his fingers through Brendon's hair a few more times before cradling one side of his head, tilting his own. "I like you so much. I do. You're serious?" His voice was a whisper, like the subject was sensitive. Suppose it was.

[Neve]

If Brendon had thought about it a little more, he would’ve have realised that he didn’t just like Ryan- he loved him. It just- wasn’t anything he’d experienced before, so he couldn’t connect a word that sounded so foreign and unrealistic to a man who had been something in his life that stuck to his shoe in the best way, always clinging on to his heart even if he was out of his mind. Which he rarely was. Even back when they absolutely despised eachother- Brendon and Ryan spent a lot of their free time concentrating on the person they supposedly hated the most. It also wasn’t obvious because of the way it had crept up to him, imperceptibly, too imperceptibly, perhaps, to seem like perfidy, but earlier in their lives if he’d figured out his feelings he would have indeed felt betrayed by his own heart. He’d spent a long time finding someone who could fill Ryan’s shoes when they mutually (but not really) decided that the two of them just couldn’t work. Physically, many could- that was just the honest truth- but. Their connection, the connection that made their physical relationship so intense. He couldn’t find that anywhere.

Of course, though, he was in deep-set denial that he needed Ryan beyond in a raw, materialistic way, to fill the void like some kind of novelty to be greedily consumed. To try and prove that to himself, he resisted Ryan for so long that he convinced himself that what was driving him crazy was the lack of sex, which was ridiculous, but he tried to make that the reason he felt so empty up til the end, when he was moving into Ryan’s lap, into his arms, when Ryan’s hands fit so naturally around his waist. They fit like puzzle pieces. He couldn’t deny that any longer. So when Ryan openly confessed his feelings, Brendon just stared at him for a beat, didn’t even think. It turned out he didn’t need to. He just told Ryan the truth and, when seeing he was lost for words, leaned in to catch him in a passionate, amorous kiss, feeling every nerve in his body tighten and close before his muscles relaxed and he melted into where he belonged- right there, in Ryan’s lap, kissing him senseless. As he did, ridiculous images flashed through his head, waking up with the sun streaming through the curtains and his head buried in Ryan’s chest. Sitting against his chest between his legs watching some movie, Ryan quietly playing with his hair. Both of them lying on polar ends of the couch, legs intertwined as they did completely separate tasks. Sitting opposite eachother in a coffee shop, laughing about nothing, Brendon thinking about how Ryan’s eyes were kind of like a caramel macchiato or something ridiculous like that. It was embarrassing. It was beautiful.

He pulled back and stifled a smile when Ryan’s thumb moved to brush along his lower lip. His eyebrow twitched as he, usually smartassed and obnoxious, struggled to think of something to say. Ryan, of course, was still panicking, because that’s what he did. Though Brendon supposed he’d given him plenty reason to be wary. He thought about getting into a serious, in-depth conversation about this, which was entirely out of character, but then he realised that he hadn’t been dicked down in goddamn weeks and Ryan was right there, beneath him, they were both starving. As much as Ryan tried to hide it. So he offered a proposal, and Ryan didn’t say anything for a second- but in a moment he easily manoeuvred the two of them so they could be even closer, then caught Brendon off guard for once in a slower, punctuating, equally breathtaking kiss. He swore this shit only happened in cringey fucking romance novels. He swore this only happened in awful movies.

But then they were out of breath and Ryan was at his neck and shoulder instead. Brendon didn’t even get his breath back, forgetting he’d been holding it. You’re serious. Of course, dumbass. Of course. I’ve never meant something more in my life, I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry I spent so long falling into the tempting arms of the wrong people. You were right here this whole time, the only one for me.

It was baffling that Brendon didn’t realise he was in love.

I like you so much. I do. You’re serious? Brendon couldn’t help but grin, finally exhaled and then inhaled, catching his lost breath and using the time to figure out what to say. ”Oh, yeah. I’m serious.” A pause. ”Can I just say I’m very impressed you haven’t started undressing me yet. I’m actually kind of offended.” ...Classic Brendon, there was only so much sincerity at a time that he could handle.

[jakob]

Brendon was so unbelievably calm, so incredibly collected in this situation, and Ryan had always thought he was the less emotional and expressive one, but - here they were, Ryan falling apart at the seams, Brendon adjusting so quickly to the new level their relationship had taken. It’d come so far, from nemesis to just sexually involved to maybe-friends, lovers-if-you-could-call-it-that, and then, for a while, they weren’t anything. There wasn’t even a promise of more, of a conclusion to their wonderfully complicated story - until now. It was difficult not to be in denial for either of them, considering every new twist they took was something usually almost unwelcome and always very unexpected. Here Ryan was, giving up on being in denial, having admitted to himself quite some time ago how he really felt, and now... to Brendon’s face, dauntingly. He felt like he must look so dramatic, and in contrast, Brendon so calmly returned his confession, like it was nothing, like it hadn’t haunted either of them before.

So in response Ryan had no choice but to mirror him. Was it really that serious? They worried about other peoples’ opinions constantly - but other peoples’ lives didn’t revolve around them, so who would care when it was so unimportant to them? Their friends, at most, would be stunned at first, maybe their respective bandmates would tell them from personal experience that it was a bad idea for them to be involved. And, stupidly, Ryan had been so worried about Brendon’s reaction for so long, whether he’d lose him if he wanted to continue seeing him after tour or if he admitted something he was sure went unreciprocated; now Brendon’s calm response made him feel silly for all of that, wonder why he hadn’t seen it before. Suddenly things were obvious, suddenly things fell into place.

And, suddenly, things weren’t scary and shaky and unfamiliar. It was warm, comfortable, anticipatory in a good way where Ryan could tell this was opening new doors for them. He didn’t expect them to announce to the world what was between them; in fact he was in no rush to do so anyway. He was excited to take this new start with Brendon, where they were on the same page and he didn’t have to act ‘subtle’ all the time and neither of them suddenly remembered what the reality of their relationship was supposed to be and gave the other distance. When Ryan first met Brendon, he was sure that this was the end of his musical career, that Brendon was a poison to his success and would tamper with his ambition - now he wanted to treat him like a boyfriend, and they were equals, and Brendon was quite possibly the best thing to happen to him, considering how much he contributed to the good things in Ryan’s life.

Brendon smiled like things were simple and Ryan instantly returned it, his breath steadying with his, because somehow Brendon’s good attitude was contagious. Oh, yeah. I’m serious. He sounded like he was joking around but Ryan understood, just laughed softly, let his eyes roam over his face while he tried to fully comprehend their new circumstances. Can I just say I’m very impressed you haven’t started undressing me yet. Ryan laughed again, this time in almost-bewilderment, his eyebrows shooting up. I’m actually kind of offended. ”Well, then, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we,” Ryan replied easily, his voice a thousand times more balanced than it had been in his brief panic. Brendon had the worst timing, but sure, he could work with that. ”Need I remind you, I was very against this ten minutes ago. You’re convincing.”

They were both evidently little enough for this massive armchair, but momentarily Ryan doubted he’d have room to do much there, but. For one thing, he was impatient, and getting to the bedroom would take, like, twenty unwelcome seconds. For another, he didn’t really want any space right now. His fingers travelled over the fabric of Brendon’s oversized T-shirt for a moment before he began to lift it over Brendon’s head, on the brink of laughing again because - ”Is this mine? You have such a crush on me.” Ryan probably shouldn’t be welcoming those kinds of jokes, because he’d probably die of embarrassment should it be returned, but regardless. It was endearing enough to convince him, so Ryan slipped from the chair onto his feet, lifting Brendon with him, legs around his waist, to carry him the short distance to their bed - well, really, someone’s bed, since they weren’t quite intended to be shared. Either way, he half-placed, half-dropped Brendon onto the sheets, climbing up after him between his legs.

And maybe his version of bedroom talk was expanding on the sentiment they’d already shared, mostly because it was a little funny. So, he ran his fingers along Brendon’s waistband before undoing the button, looking at Brendon quizzically. ”Since when did you know?” he asked, apparently evil, because he slowed down until he heard a response.

[Neve]

Even though the wave of feelings that washed over Brendon upon admitting his long-nursed and deep-seated genuine affection for Ryan was a content one, a calm one, there was a secondary rush of emotion that wasn’t so collected and peaceful. It was like the tide of good nature had drawn steadily back to sea and left their issues in the form of flotsam and debris and broken shells half-buried in the sand that was their long and complicated history. He realised all too suddenly the implications of admitting something so vulnerable to someone who had the power to make him crumble to the ground, buckle in defeat- but just as soon as the emotions came, the calm returned, the wave of reassurance creeping up the bay again and slowly dislodging different problems from the sand and taking them away to sea.

It was all very pretty, in his head- the idea of them, the idea of having Ryan for himself in a way that wasn’t possessive but trusting and sure, the idea of being able to call him a partner, a boyfriend, anything more concrete and certain than ‘acquaintance’, ‘old friend’, or the worst of them all, a ‘friend with benefits’. The last one was a false testament to what they had perceived themselves to be- two men who didn’t like eachother but enjoyed eachother’s company because they were only flesh and blood, after all, spending night after night together didn’t compromise the coldness at its core, the fact that they sometimes simply sat and talked didn’t undermine the purely physical nature of their relationship. Of course they were wrong and Brendon now knew it. It wasn’t love but then Brendon wouldn’t know how to describe such a thing if he tried- all he knew was that he wanted to be around Ryan as much as possible and he had so much to tell him it was kind of daunting.

Again, though, it was peaceful. Warm. They were in close proximity and Brendon stared at him for a few long moments, allowing himself to indulge in a view he had denied himself all the time he’d known Ryan- the ability to look into his eyes and savour them without guilt, to allow himself to conjure up the beginnings of love songs, montage reels of honey and autumn and cold sunrises and feeling joy instead of cringing at his own ridiculous fantasy. It was still ridiculous, this romanticisation- but it wasn’t really a problem. They knew too much dirt on eachother and it had been too ugly in the past between them for them to ever worry about idealising eachother- they knew the worst of the worst about the other and still felt this passion, this vitality that wasn’t shifting, partly because neither of them were pushing it violently away.

They were both grinning, taking in eachother’s faces like they had been given a time limit only in the past, they always had. And now they didn’t- well, no metaphorical one anyway. Maybe a real one, like people wondering where the hell the two of them are and finally suspecting what somehow, nobody had picked them up for yet. First of all, they were not discreet. Brendon was too whiney and attention seeking for that- just before they had kissed outside in broad daylight against a tour bus like teenagers. Secondly, they were... loud. Brendon’s train of thought finally returned to his initial plan of action and his much less wholesome goal for this evening came back to him. Ryan was just laughing. Well, then, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we. Very promising, but they were still crammed into this armchair, and as cute and cosy as it was, it wasn’t exactly suitable. Need I remind you, I was very against this ten minutes ago. Brendon grinned, and quickly stole a kiss, pulling back before Ryan could even return it. “No you weren’t. You could never resist me for long,” He said softly, in jest, mostly, but there was definitely truth to it. Then Ryan was coaxing his shirt over his head and Brendon helped, pulling it off and dumping it on the floor, then immediately leaning in again to kiss him. Ryan was speaking before he even pulled back. Is this mine?

Brendon glanced down at the t shirt quizzically as though he hadn’t intentionally worn that shirt to get under Ryan’s very thin skin, and smiled, faking bemusement. “Maybe,” He said, flashing him another grin. You have such a crush on me.” Oh. Well. So he wanted to play at that game. Brendon was very much about to call him out but suddenly Ryan was on his feet, and Brendon wrapped his legs around him embarrassingly quickly, like it was muscle memory. He gazed at him senselessly and let out a euphoric laugh when they both landed on the bed- it wasn’t soft but wasn’t uncomfortable- a little springy in the mattress department, Brendon realised, and as they both settled onto it, the force collided the headboard with the wall. Not ideal. Not that he minded- he watched Ryan move between his legs and watched him, always closely, even as he undid the top button of his jeans. It all felt so normal, but apprehensive, like they’d never done this before, but then-

Since when did you know?

Brendon came to a revelation then. As long as there were unanswered questions, Ryan’s head would not be in this and that was pointless, so Brendon reached out and pressed a hand against his chest gently, keeping him back. “You just want to talk, don’t you?” He said in a quiet, amused tone. “You’re too cute to rail me right now anyway.” Partially a joke- but Brendon hadn’t waited two weeks for Ryan to give minimum effort. Instead, he just kissed Ryan again, obsessed with how it made him feel, and thought for a few moments, reaching out one hand to hang onto the fabric of his shirt’s neckline, keeping him at least close. “Since- Well. Probably since Seattle,” He murmured, blinking slowly. “But I realised- truly realised when- it wasn’t you playing next to me anymore. But I ignored that too, so. Probably... when I looked sidestage during our first performance and you were there in the wings. I just- couldn’t wait to see you straight after.” He paused. ”And you?”