“Beautiful,” Ryan comments, and Brendon’s mouth twitches.
The melody falters and the younger boy lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head and dropping his hands from the piano. He rolls his head to grin widely at Ryan and then giggles to himself, again.
“You’re so strange,” Ryan tells him, rolling his eyes fondly.
“Strange and drunk,” Brendon corrects, then laughs again. Ryan’s not sure if this is something to be pointing out proudly, but he doesn’t say anything and just softly smiles back at his band mate.
“Never a good combo,” Ryan adds.
Brendon makes a face. “I can be stranger, you know, my dear friend Ryan.”
“Well, you can’t be any more drunk,” Ryan mumbles under his breath and Brendon, drunk and distracted, doesn’t hear him. Then, the older boy raises and eyebrow and pretends to study Brendon. It’s another few seconds before he speaks again. “I doubt it,” he concludes.
Brendon just smirks in response. Ryan immediately recognizes that face. It’s the face the singer always gets whenever he feels “put up to a challenge.” It’s his competitive face and, if you ask Ryan, is highly unnecessary under the circumstances.
Placing his hands back on the piano, Brendon shimmies his ass against the bench and gives one last knowing glance in Ryan’s direction before starting out a simple melody. Ryan’s about to ask what the musician is doing, and why he is being so goddamn weird about it, until he recognizes the song. And before he can even begin to protest, Brendon is singing.
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Date: 2009-01-23 01:15 am (UTC)The melody falters and the younger boy lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head and dropping his hands from the piano. He rolls his head to grin widely at Ryan and then giggles to himself, again.
“You’re so strange,” Ryan tells him, rolling his eyes fondly.
“Strange and drunk,” Brendon corrects, then laughs again. Ryan’s not sure if this is something to be pointing out proudly, but he doesn’t say anything and just softly smiles back at his band mate.
“Never a good combo,” Ryan adds.
Brendon makes a face. “I can be stranger, you know, my dear friend Ryan.”
“Well, you can’t be any more drunk,” Ryan mumbles under his breath and Brendon, drunk and distracted, doesn’t hear him. Then, the older boy raises and eyebrow and pretends to study Brendon. It’s another few seconds before he speaks again. “I doubt it,” he concludes.
Brendon just smirks in response. Ryan immediately recognizes that face. It’s the face the singer always gets whenever he feels “put up to a challenge.” It’s his competitive face and, if you ask Ryan, is highly unnecessary under the circumstances.
Placing his hands back on the piano, Brendon shimmies his ass against the bench and gives one last knowing glance in Ryan’s direction before starting out a simple melody. Ryan’s about to ask what the musician is doing, and why he is being so goddamn weird about it, until he recognizes the song. And before he can even begin to protest, Brendon is singing.