[IC] and i’m conducting

[Neve]

After a show, there always tended to be the same familiar routine that the band rhythmically went through; they hung around backstage for a bit, thanking the staff and making sure everything went okay, and then they all filed out in a loose formation towards the tour bus at different speeds. Usually, the last one aboard was Brendon. This time, thus taking a step towards proving this generalisation, it was Brendon, which gave Ryan a chance to chastise him after what had otherwise been a relatively incident-free night- sure, Brendon had taunted him onstage, but that was routine at this point; Ryan had learned, much to Brendon’s disappointment, to tune out when he launched into his dramatic performance, his over-the-top speech about ‘sweaty, angry, frenzied fucking’ which involved Ryan much more than the guitarist probably would have liked. But that’s why it was so fun- watching Ryan trying to control his temper and concentrate on playing.

Anyway, from the tour bus, there could be a deviation from the usual path. If they had a hotel, the driver would take them there, but that was a luxury- usually, they slept in their bunks in the tour bus. The same was true that night. When Brendon walked on, Jon and Spencer were lingering in the cramped lounge area, nursing drinks already, but there was no sign of Ryan- Brendon looked around the corner towards the bunks and he saw Ryan’s legs sticking out from his. He blinked and turned to Jon, who, along with Spencer, hadn’t gotten changed, so he came to the natural conclusion that they were going for some after-show celebration, even though that hadn’t even been their best show, it wasn’t even the end of the leg or the last show in the state or anything. Brendon figured it was just an excuse to go out, and he respected that. Still, he grinned, raised his eyebrows, and Jon spoke before he could. “We’re gonna check the night scene around here, you down?”

”I’m getting too old for going out after shows, man,” Brendon laughed, reaching up to comb his fingers through his disheveled hair. Jon was older than him, but whatever. Besides, it wasn’t even true- he just felt like getting on a certain someone’s nerves tonight, because winding Ryan up was- well, not a new favourite pastime. But a consistent one. Spencer looked a little disappointed. ”You’re not even a year older than me, fucker. What do you mean, old?” Another laugh. ”The stress of fame.... Has aged me rapidly. I found a fucking grey hair, honestly, dude- and I’m in my twenties., but, like, physically, I’m fifty.” This was a lie. He was eighteen at heart and head and 24 only technically.

Spencer and Jon seemed to catch on that he just wasn’t that keen, though, and gave up at exactly the same time, Jon just lifting his drink and then taking a sip and Spencer just shrugging disinterestedly, bored of Brendon’s ‘charming’ bullshitting. Brendon clicked his tongue and weaves his way inbetween the bunks, stopping at his, which was a bottom bunk and directly across from Ryan’s. Ryan folded his legs up to let him pass, not even looking at him as he did so- he was reading something, what, Brendon didn’t know. Probably something pretentious. He desperately wanted to goad him about it, but- if his plan was going to work, he’d have to be more nonchalant. So, he ignored him completely, to what he imagined was a mixture of Ryan’s disappointment and surprise- and sat down on his bunk, pulling his shirt over his head before he’d even settled onto the sheets.

He tossed it onto the mattress and then searched around amongst his things for deodorant, which he generously used- then he tossed that aside, undid the buttons and unzipped the zipper of his jeans, before standing up to start inching them down his hips. But, he just- left them like that, the waistband of his underwear visible, and stretched his arms above his head, muscles contracting as he clung onto the top bunk in order to extend his body, which was still running chiefly on adrenaline from the show. It was embarrassingly obvious, shameless, but only Ryan would know that. Jon and Spencer would just think ‘hey, it’s a Brendon thing. He does that’.

Blatant showcasing of his shirtless form aside, he then turned around, facing away from Ryan, and finally pushed them down his hips- the denim caught but then slid down and he stepped out of them, letting them crumple into a pile with his shirt. It would be obvious at this point to those who didn’t know him that he didn’t have any, uh. Self esteem issues.

When he turned back around, he caught Ryan’s eye, his hips kind of propped up at an angle, his arms again outstretched above his head because this bus was extremely fucking cramped, even for somebody so little. Though there was nothing teasing about his gaze- in fact, he just let his eyes pass over Ryan, like he was barely even there.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to Ryan but when the guitarist stood up and weaved past him stiffly, Brendon knew he’d gotten somewhere already. You coming with us, Ry? He heard Spencer ask. There was a pause. I guess it’s just us then, Spence.

Interesting. Ryan wasn’t going. Maybe he was too invested in his book... Ha, yeah. Brendon was grinning so hard that he had to force himself to stop before he appeared in front of his three band members, still wearing very little. Spencer and Jon were completely unfazed. Ryan, who had sat down, shifted- Brendon could see it from out of his peripheral. Yeah, I’m, uh. Tired. Mhm. ”Don’t be back too late, I gotta get my beauty sleep and don’t need you, like, accidentally getting into my bunk with me at 2am.”

[jakob]

Ryan was, unsurprisingly, the most impatient of all of them, although he wasn’t rude about it (his asshole side really only came out around his bandmates - the crew didn’t deserve him having a tantrum after a show), so he often disappeared first to their tour bus. He would help put some equipment back in the van trailing their bus, he’d thank people and shake hands and if there was anyone waiting at the barrier outside for the band, he would take as much time as it took to talk to everyone. But that didn’t mean he outlasted Spencer, Jon, and Brendon on the kindness front. Spencer usually came up right after him, Jon a few stretched moments later, and because Brendon was basically a saint if you asked anyone not in the band, he was last. He had the most battery of all of them, first of all, always charged up; second of all, he was genuinely too kind to say goodbye until he’d spoken with everyone. Much to their security’s disapproval - they barely got to do this anymore, not when they were at bigger shows.

But that was a would, and they were headlining, so they didn’t get to meet anyone. Some nights it came as sort of a relief even if they felt bad for whoever’d waited a long time - they were just exhausted, needed the break as soon as possible after a show. Nevertheless they still came in their usual formation, Ryan watching as Spencer and Jon immediately went to their kitchenette and looked for what was best to pregame with. Obviously. He looked on for a count of three seconds before losing interest and curling into his bunk, ducking until he could sit cross-legged facing inwardly, digging through the collection of belongings he hoarded at the end of his bed (swear to God, he nearly fell out of it constantly). He landed on a Palahniuk, already read but a classic regardless, then folded in on himself until he could turn again. At such a ridiculously lanky build, he had to lie awkwardly, legs crowding the aisle, back mostly across the width of his bed, pillow beneath his head against the wall.

He was reclusive, sure, but not this unaware of his surroundings all the time, completely ignoring his bandmates then taking up so much of their limited space. But. He was getting sick of the stage act, not being able to snap and scare Brendon off when he was too close and too vocal, but it’s not like he could do that offstage anyway. The closest he could get to ‘scaring Brendon off’ was being just aggressive enough to make Brendon impatient, too, and then both of them were too tired of it all to pick a real fight. On stage he sucked it up, maybe played along a little, though that was a more recent development for them - he’d lean towards Brendon invitingly, or actually look at him longingly rather than avoiding eye contact altogether, walk to him crowd his space before Brendon could crowd Ryan’s. Then, that was a rare occasion, or he would only follow through on one of those options. He just didn’t have the patience.

Not that the act itself was what pissed Ryan off, but the fact that it was Brendon, who he had such a complicated relationship with behind the scenes. Yeah, they hated each other beyond belief, had no trouble reminding each other all the time. On the other hand, they did, in fact, participate in their own version of the vicious fucking Brendon talked about every night. Two polarities, except maybe not, because the opposite of hating one another was inaccurate, too. When Brendon put on so much dramatics that his closeness alone affected Ryan, that was a problem. When they’d been together fairly recently and thus the memory was fresh, Ryan had trouble focusing on the music itself, and he hated that Brendon could do anything to knock him off track. He suspected it might be a silent competition between them, seeing if Ryan would break each night, but that was slightly paranoid. Maybe.

So, Brendon was posing a problem for him already, nothing new.

Ryan heard his voice stream in and only lost focus intermittently, catching a few words here and there. ...getting too old for going out after shows, man. Later, following Spencer commentary, some quip about physically being fifty. Ryan begged to differ, from personal experience. Either way it sounded like the conversation was over and Ryan carefully kept his attention on his book, pulling his feet in absently as Brendon entered the bunk space, pointedly ignoring him. Again, stage act. He had experience nudging Brendon’s presence aside - most of the time. Annoyingly, Brendon was apparently good at doing the exact same, because he hardly spared a glance at Ryan. Ryan readjusted naturally, uncomfortable with being invisible for once, sitting a little more upright and diagonally until he was dug deeper into his bunk. He chanced a glance up, once, fast as hell, greeted by the image of Brendon’s shirt coming off, torso bared. Alright. So what.

A few moments later, after plainly ignoring the words in front of him and listening instead to the sound of Brendon shuffling around, he chanced a glance up, once. Alright, the jeans were going, too. He looked back down before that processed and he blinked at the empty words, actually annoyed again, for who knew what reason. Maybe the fact that whatever Brendon was up to, because he was always up to something, was working. When he cast his embarrassing third glance up, Brendon was stretching, lithe and lean as ever, and Ryan hated his guts. So much so he dropped his book on his chest, still open, when Brendon turned away to pull the jeans down, the V Ryan was so hooked on exposed, everything he dumbly stared at when no one was looking. On the way down, the denim didn’t go easily, and Ryan seriously, cross his heart, hated this idiot.

Brendon caught his gaze, finally, and Ryan held it for that half second, pissed, but Brendon wasn’t even looking at him. He’d just happened upon his eyeline, apparently. God, he needed so much fucking attention, and Ryan pushed his book aside to duck out of his bunk, because he wouldn’t give Brendon what he wanted even on his deathbed. So he walked out, dropping with an angry air onto a seat in the lounge, trying to expel the energy before he somehow exposed their weird situation.

You coming with us, Ry? Ryan snapped out of it, looking at Spencer carefully and shaking his head simply, suspecting he’d sound too obvious if he spoke already. Jon chimed in; I guess it’s just us then, Spence. Yeah, get the hell out already, Ryan needed to yell at Brendon uninterrupted, thanks. The man of the hour appeared right after, looking normal as ever still, and Ryan twitched, noting that that asshole had decided on what his nightly drama was going to be. He tried again to speak, just to show how balanced his voice was, or how balanced he could make it be, anyway. Yeah, I’m, uh. Tired. Alright, dumb move on his part. He pointedly glared at Brendon, but the fucker was still not looking his way. Don’t be back too late, I gotta get my beauty sleep and don’t need you, like, accidentally getting into my bunk with me at 2am. God, he was such a fucking princess, and. His dumb plan was working. Ryan was beyond annoyed, and every tiny thing made it worse, like he was looking for offenses. Ryan stared at him, pointed.

Gross, was Spencer’s response, at the exact same time Jon started on are you hinting at something? I’m not interested. They were already finishing their drinks and shrugging jackets back on, clearly disengaged. Alright, we’ll start early, then. See ya, was Spencer’s half-hearted farewell, evidently pleasantly warmed up from pregaming already. Jon was already down the steps when he distantly called his: Don’t kill each other!, and the door slammed behind him.

Ryan immediately untensed, relieved to finally talk shit out loud. ”I’m killing you first, you little fucker,” he said immediately, and Jon would definitely be disappointed. ”What the fuck are you up to? Looking for attention tonight?” He was not going to admit that it was working. Ryan rose up as he spoke, facing Brendon directly, needing the height advantage at least.

[Neve]

It was petty, but it was also true that Brendon woke up every day and without fail spent a considerable amount of time figuring out how to annoy the shit out of Ryan on that particular day. The thing was, it was so easy- he liked to be inventive, but often the most reliable and effective one was also the easiest and Brendon’s favourite- being both seductive and untouchable, trying to turn the bastard on at times where he could do fuck all about it except stare angrily, anywhere but at Brendon because if he did it would be obvious in more ways than one that Ryan had a thing for him. Well, it was more than just having a thing- they hooked up regularly, provoked by fights or not, only when it was the product of tension caused by an argument it tended to be a little more aggressive. The friction that was caused by their mutual hatred generated heat and the only way to work that off was through an extremely direct approach. So, even though they would probably still be fucking if Brendon wasn’t an irritating asshole every damn day, the fact that he was an irritating asshole every damn day just made things that little bit more exciting.

There were different ways to seduce someone as easy and pathetic as Ryan Rowe, luckily, so he had the leverage to have some fun when he was trying to drive him up the wall. Today, he was going to pretend that he wasn’t even trying to do anything- usually he made eye contact with him, taunting, but this time, he’d be completely nonchalant. That, more than anything, was sure to drive Ryan crazy. So, he strode down through the very tight space between their bunks, and started stripping off his clothes, as deliberately as possible without looking too damn obvious that he was just trying to get on his nerves. First, the shirt- folded easily over his head, no big deal. He noticed Ryan looking, he wasn’t stupid. Ryan, who was pretending to be so damn unaffected, and probably had many colourful thoughts going through his head already.

Manoeuvring around in this small space wasn’t fun, but Brendon was used to it, so it was relatively easy and his movements while he derobed were fluid and assured. Ryan was sure to recognise them. If he weren’t such a convincing and committed actor, he’d be grinning wildly by now, easily blowing his nonchalant cover. After he’d carelessly discarded his shirt, Brendon started working on his jeans, popping open the button and sliding down the zipper, pausing before he took them off the stretch deliberately, pretending that he didn’t at all notice Ryan’s obvious staring. That kid really thought he was slick. Brendon dropped his arms back down to his sides and finally shimmied our of them, the denim catching on the way, and he heard Ryan drop his book (some pretentious bullshit, probably) against his chest. That thirsty fucker. Brendon turned around so he could smile at the wall, folding his jeans clumsily and dumping them onto his bunk. When he turned around again, he caught Ryan’s eye, but made sure his gaze was glassy and blank. Almost immediately Ryan stood up and slipped away towards the lounge. Brendon smirked. Idiot.

After a moment of waiting he meandered down the short hallway to the lounge, standing there casually and watching two of his three bandmates unnecessarily intently. There was some discussion about going out and Brendon made some absent comments, again hiding a smirk when Ryan tried to speak in a very strangled voice. Half a second after he piped up with his little quip about drunken bandmates climbing into bed with him, and neither Spence nor Jon seemed particularly impressed by the idea. Gross. ”That’s rude, man.” Are you hinting at something? Brendon bagged his eyelashes innocently. I’m not interested. ”Yeah, well, you should be.” The two of them were shrugging on jackets and standing up and Brendon watched them, all good-natured smile and... lack of clothes. Alright, we’ll start early, then. Jeez, bit of an early one. Bad for their livers, but... good for Brendon. He and Ryan would be here alone, how exciting. Anticipation was burning in his gut. See ya. ”Bye, dude.” He watched as Jon went to shut the door behind him and laughed to punctuate his last comment- Don’t kill eachother!

”No promises,” Brendon called back, laughing, and then he shook his head, smiling to himself. There was always a comment like that whenever the two of them, famous for their mutual hatred, were left to their own devices. It would be a valid piece of advice back when they didn’t have sex as a means of burning off steam, but. Now it was just funny. I’m killing you first, you little fucker. Oh, Okay. Brendon expected him to be pissed but was still startled by the suddenness of his attack. ”Shit, chill. What’ve I done now?” What the fuck are you up to? Looking for attention tonight? Brendon grinned, looked him up and down, shrugged his shoulders. ”I don’t look for your attention, dumbass,” He corrected, his voice almost a purr. ”I just kinda attract it.”