Boys Will Be Boys *Ryden*

Sealed With a Kiss

Ryan reluctantly returned to the bar, where Jac sat waiting for him. Her glass was empty and he ordered her another.

"So, what was it that I was saying before you left? I forget...oh yeah! So I was half naked, stranded and I had no idea what I was going to do..." she began to drone on and on. Ryan zoned out, occasionally nodding or saying "uh huh" to feign interest in her story. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering over to Brendon, who was now sitting in a booth with the brunette (Emma, apparently) seated on his lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Every time Ryan glanced over, he grew angrier and more frustrated. Emma didn't even look old enough to be in the club. She was probably 17 years old.

"Are you okay?" Jac asked abruptly, a sharp edge to her voice. Ryan jumped, snapping his attention back to her.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, because you keep staring at Brendon and I can tell you're barely listening to me." She leaned forward conspiratorially, and he was reminded of the MTV reporter. "So tell me...are the rumors true?"

Ryan felt his hackles rise. He tried to laugh it off, but then he accidentally glanced in Brendon's direction again and saw that Emma's tongue was in his mouth. They were making out like teenagers in front of the entire room. That was the final straw for Ryan. "No," he said flatly. "The rumors aren't true. Look, it was nice meeting you, Jac, but I'm beat." He tossed some money onto the bar and stood up.

"Wait, don't go!" Jac said. Ryan knew that she was eager to fuck a rock star, and he thought sarcastically, sorry to crush your precious fantasy. He almost said it out loud, but he wasn't that cruel. He didn't hate groupies; he was just a little tired of them.

"Sorry," he mumbled and made a beeline for the exit. He walked the 3 blocks back to the hotel, texting Zack only once he was safe in his room. No need to worry the big guy the way asshole Brendon had.

Anger had sobered him up, and he didn't feel like being sober. He opened the mini bar and took out of couple nips of tequila. He was going to break his own rule about avoiding shots.

He lay down on the bed and tipped the first shot back, feeling soothed by the burn at the back of his throat. Maybe he should have brought Jac back here with him, because now that he was alone, he didn't know what to do with himself. He turned on the television and started flipping through the channels. His phone buzzed when a text message came in, and he picked it up, expecting it to be a response from Zack. Instead, it was from Brendon ("Bden", as he was listed in Ryan's phone).

Bden: Where'd u go? Your blonde just asked me for your number. Want me to give it?

Ryan considered this as he downed the second nip of tequila. If he let Brendon give her his phone number, he could tell her what hotel he was staying in, and in 20 minutes flat he could have her naked and spread-eagled in bed beneath him. An even better idea would be to skip giving her his phone number altogether and just have Brendon direct her to the hotel. That way when he politely kicked her out of his room later on, she wouldn't have a way to contact him again. His finger hovered over the phone, trying to decide. He thought about Brendon with his tongue in Emma's mouth, and then he thought about how overeager Jac was to bang someone famous. He sighed and texted back: Nah. I'm good.

His phone buzzed again 10 seconds later.

Bden: Why'd u leave without her? Find someone hotter?

Ryan's eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck? He didn't understand why Brendon gave a shit. He replied: No, I just left. Not in the mood for groupies.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on his door, startling him. He was going to maim Brendon if he'd sent Jac, or any other girl, here to "cheer him up". He didn't need a goddamn consolation prize.

He stalked over to the door, the full effects of the tequila hitting him as soon as he stood up, and looked through the peephole where he was confronted with...a big brown eyeball.

Seriously. What the fuck.

Ryan yanked open the door and said, "What are you doing here? Where's your little prom queen?"

Brendon pushed his way into the room and grabbed a nip of vodka from the minibar, downing it and making a face at the taste. "I left her with your blonde. They can console each other. Maybe they'll have a threesome with Zack."

"You looked like you were having a good time with her," Ryan said, immediately regretting it. He sounded like a jealous bitch. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, it was fun for a while. Until it wasn't." Brendon hoisted himself up to perch on the counter above the minibar. "You see, here's the thing. You and me, hooking up? It's absolutely a mistake."

"So you've mentioned," Ryan muttered. "Several times."

"I shouldn't have pushed the issue. I should have listened to you. I didn't think it would be more than a kiss. I'm straight."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I believe we've reiterated that point several times as well." Running out of patience, he snapped, "Where exactly are you going with this conversation? We've agreed it was a mistake. There's no argument here, so why are we still talking about it, and why are you not in your room nailing Emma right now?"

"Well, the thing is..." Brendon hopped off the counter and walked over to Ryan, who immediately tensed up. Brendon knelt on the floor in front of him, placing his hands on the bed on either side of Ryan. "The thing is, she doesn't kiss as good as you do."

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting Ryan's amber ones. The look they exchanged was solemn, searching, and with a flash of sudden clarity Ryan recognized this moment as a turning point of some kind. Or maybe a test. Maybe Brendon wanted him to refuse. Maybe he wanted -- or needed -- Ryan to be the strong one, the one who insisted they stop before things got worse. To continue this thing, whatever this thing was, would only raise the stakes to a daunting height. There was too much to lose, too much at risk.

Ryan closed his eyes, his head swimming with conflicting emotions. When he spoke, it was so quiet that Brendon could barely hear him, in spite of being only inches away.

"I can't be the strong one."

It shouldn't have made sense to Brendon, but it did. "Neither can I," he said, and pulled Ryan's head down, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that began slowly but within seconds became feverish, desperate. Their fate: sealed with a kiss.