There's silence as Brendon and Dallon lock eyes, waiting for the other to break it. Dallon's stubborn, but Brendon is even more so, and so it's Dallon who demands, "What the fuck is this, Brendon?" as he brandishes the phone.

Brendon tilts his chin up indignantly, folding his arms across his chest. "I can already see you jumping to conclusions, so how about you tell me what you think it is?"

"I think," Dallon says, shaking his head as he gets to his feet and begins pacing. "That you're a fucking idiot." He continues on, ignoring Brendon muttering thanks under his breath. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you out of your mind?! What fucking possessed you to decide that texting your ex was a good idea and could end anything other than badly?"

Brendon rolls his eyes. "In my defence, I was pretty upset that night. I wonder why..." he taps his chin thoughtfully, his eyes locked on Dallon, whose own eyes blaze with fury.

"This isn't about me," Dallon hisses, walking over to Brendon and prodding him in the chest to punctuate his next words. "This is about you, texting your repulsive ex - who, by the way, obviously wants to get in your pants - behind my back!"

Despite Dallon trying to tower over him (even though they're roughly the same height), Brendon stands his ground and doesn't even flinch as Dallon's voice rises. He's had a lot of practise dealing with men trying to intimidate him, and it doesn't work anymore.

"I have no idea where you got Ryan wanting to fuck me from, but go off I guess." Brendon shrugs nonchalantly.

"Oh come on," Dallon raises his eyebrows in disbelief, unlocking Brendon's phone and scrolling through the messages again. "You can't see it? It's obvious."

"Even if Ryan did want to get back into my pants, which he doesn't, what makes you think that I would let him?"

"Well look what happened last time."

Brendon rolls his eyes, groaning in frustration. "Oh, I wondered when you'd throw that back in my face."

Back when Brendon and Ryan had first broken up, and Brendon had moved into Dallon's tiny apartment, he'd made the mistake of going back to the apartment he'd shared with Ryan to pick up some more of his stuff and have a cup of coffee with him, as friends. They'd been broken up for well over a month at this point, but it didn't stop one thing leading to another and they ended up having sex on the couch.

Afterwards, Brendon had abruptly come to his senses, leaving the apartment without any of the stuff he went in there for. He went back to Dallon's in a state, telling him what had happened and facing the consequences - Dallon made him go and stay with his mom for three weeks, and didn't talk to him at all during that time.

Brendon pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks about the incident, closing his eyes against tears that threaten to expose his emotions. "Look, Dallon -"

"Forget it." Dallon shoves Brendon's phone at his chest and walks down the hall towards the front door. "I don't get why you'd want to talk to him after what he did to you, but what do I know? I'm just your fiancé." he looks back at Brendon, shrugs, and then opens the door. "I'm going to Breezy's. Don't worry about calling me, I'm sure you'll be too busy."

And then he leaves, slamming the door harder than necessary, leaving Brendon with a furious fire burning in his chest. He's livid. He can't believe Dallon went through his phone like that, and not only that, he accused him of wanting to sleep with Ryan! What the fuck was up with that?

Brendon cries out in frustration, grabbing one of the cushions off of the couch and throwing it at the wall. It's not enough; he hits it harder and harder against the wall, eventually dropping it to the floor and hitting the wall with his bare fists instead. It hurts, but it lets some of his frustration out, and now he's less likely to go to Breezy's and demand that Dallon sit the fuck down and listen to him. Even though he still kind of wants to do that.

He sinks to his knees, shoulders shaking with sobs. He doesn't understand why Dallon just doesn't listen to him anymore. They used to be so good with communication; what happened? He can't figure it out. He's not sure if he wants to figure it out.

~

For once, Ryan's on his own, and he's looking forward to having a relaxing night in by himself. He's going to order some Chinese food, open up the bottle of rosé he bought on the way home from work, and watch The Empire Strikes Back after a long bath.

He loves spending time with Pete, but tonight he's got to do some preparation for Minnesota, leaving Ryan to his own devices. He doesn't mind, though; maybe he and Pete are spending too much time together, because the sex is slowly beginning to lose its spark and sex at home is nowhere near as much of an adrenaline-rush as it is in the office. Mostly, though, Ryan's just glad to have to not be.

Keeping up appearances with Pete is hard, especially when there's so much going on in Ryan's head all the fucking time and if Pete knew about even one percent of it, he'd drop him like a stone in a pond, that was for certain.

He runs his bath and orders his food to be delivered at 8pm, which will give him time to chill before it arrives. He lights a handful of tealights and sets them where he can around the bathtub and the sink. He empties perhaps more bubble bath than necessary into the water and then waits for the tub to fill before getting in. While lying in the bath, bubbles up to his chin, he closes his eyes and lets his mind do whatever it wants to. It's like letting out a deep breath after he's been holding it for five hours, and it feels good to unravel a bit.

He thinks about Brendon, and the fact that they've been texting non-stop for about a week. His heart does a little hopskipjump whenever Brendon's name flashes up on screen, the same way it did when they first met, but he's not sure if it's because of those same feelings or something else. Is it fear, or is it nerves?

His phone, on the closed lid of the toilet, lights up, and he sits up in the bath, drying his hands on a nearby towel before picking it up. It's Brendon, and his heart does that thing again. It says, what u up to?, and Ryan smiles a little, typing a reply with wrinkled fingers.

Oh, y'know, just feeling like shit, the usual.

It's nothing, just Dallon being an asshole again. You don't wanna hear about it. It wouldn't be fair.

He decides that, after an hour, he's had enough of his bath, and he stands up before pulling the plug out. Besides, his food will be here soon, so he should probably get out anyway. He rinses the remaining suds from his hair and makes sure his asshole is nice and clean, before wrapping a towel around his waist and stepping out into the hallway.

His phone buzzes in his hand but he ignores it for a moment, heading into his room to dry off. He sits on the edge of his bed, grabbing his hairbrush from the nightstand, and he reads Brendon's reply as he runs the brush through his wet hair.

Why do you hate him so much? I'm the one that cheated on you, he just happened to be dumb enough to want to sleep with someone in a relationship.

Well he's not as perfect as you think he is. He went through my fucking phone Ryan. You never would've done that in a million years.

Because I laughed at that duck meme you sent me and he got all suspicious asking me what was funny and wanting to know who was messaging me. He's been really fucking weird recently, especially since we saw you that time.

Ryan gets to his feet, trading his towel for his bathrobe, opting out of underwear because if he can't be naked (or naked under his bathrobe) in his own apartment, where can he be naked?

There's a knock on the front door and he answers it, seeing a delivery driver with his food. He thanks them, gives them a tip and heads inside with his dinner, his stomach rumbling. He puts a little bit of everything into a bowl, grabs a fork and his rosé, and heads to the couch, tucking his feet underneath himself and settling in for a good time.

He's an hour into The Empire Strikes Back, three quarters of his food eaten, when there's another knock on the door. His first thought is that it's Brendon, considering that he hasn't replied to his text yet, but he shakes the thought from his head. Brendon doesn't know where he lives, and besides, why would he come here, of all places?

He pauses the film and gets to his feet, padding across the carpet towards the front door, where whoever is knocking has knocked twice more. He opens it, seeing Pete, who's holding a small bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.

"Hey," says Ryan, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment at seeing him. "I thought you had stuff to do."

He lets Pete in, taking the wine and flowers from him as he takes his shoes off. He's still in his work clothes, shirt and tie and slacks, but his hair is hanging loose over his shoulders and his sleeves are rolled up.

"That can wait," Pete replies, following Ryan as he heads back into the living room, setting the flowers carefully on the table alongside the wine. "I missed you."

Ryan smiles and he steps towards Pete, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. No matter how much spark there may or may not be between them, Ryan cannot deny that kissing Pete is electric, especially when he winds his arms around Ryan's waist and pulls him closer than he thought possible.

"Seems like you missed me too," hums Pete, nuzzling his face into Ryan's neck, feeling the younger man's semi pressed against his thigh.

"I always miss you when you're not around," he tells Pete, as if he wasn't hoping to see Brendon five minutes ago. His breath catches as Pete sucks at a spot just above his collarbone, making his knees weaken, and he grips a handful of Pete's hair, biting his lip. "You're like my own personal brand of heroin."

His boss laughs, nipping at his earlobe. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you use a Twilight quote and just assume that not seeing me for four hours has made you so horny that you can't think properly."

"You wouldn't be wrong," he swallows heavily as Pete grabs his ass with both hands and begins to grind their lower bodies together. "Fucking kiss me, would you?" he demands, and Pete rolls his eyes, muttering please before obliging, crashing his mouth against Ryan's in a bruising kiss.

They begin to walk towards Ryan's room, breaking apart for less than a second to see where they're going. Ryan pushes Pete down onto the bed, climbing on top of him and straddling his lap. He moves his mouth to the older man's neck, his semi hardening as he hears Pete's soft moans. He undoes Pete's tie and unbuttons his shirt, his mouth moving down his body until he gets to his work slacks, pulling them off torturously slowly.

He can hear his phone buzzing on the coffee table as if someone's calling him, but he ignores it. Right now, he's busy.

"Fuck," Pete gasps as Ryan mouths at his erection through his briefs. "I didn't come here just to sleep with you, y'know."

"I know," says Ryan, moving back up Pete's body to his mouth. "It's just an added bonus."