Sending the report Sunday night had been more than just a little strange for Ryan. It had felt almost wrong to write it, even if he hadn't said anything specific, just something about progress, physical as well as personal, between them. It was weird, though. Not only the fact that he was sharing Brendon's first kiss with the bureau, which felt dodgy enough, but also the fact that it was his own first, a significant milestone in his own life. Something which no one really cared about since it was all work. No one really cared that he had always thought that his first kiss would not only be with a girl, but also with someone who knew and understood not to expect too much of him. He'd always thought it would be honest.

Then there was the email he'd received from Tobias the following morning which said things like 'way to go, my man!' and 'second base already' and 'oh, I just realized we sent you off unprepared. I'll do something about that' and he'd been angrier with his roommate than he remembered ever having been before. The anger was made better by being laced with a sense of dread about what Tobias would do something about, and how. He'd written an angry email in which he'd told his friend to stay out of it, and that second base was definitely pulling it a bit beyond the reality of the situation. And then he hadn't heard anything more about that matter since and was almost convinced that Tobias really had decided to stay out of it.

That was until lunch, Thursday, when some kid ran around, giving out people's mail. And he'd put a decent sized box on the table in front of Ryan. The box was a plain white with no brands or anything on, and the sender address was some Internet company he had never heard of. For good reason, probably. And he was definitely content not to open it right then and there. Not ever, really. And then he quickly pushed it aside, under his chair, and returned to his food, sending the others a weak smile.

"What's that?" Jon asked, mouth full of food as he pointed at Ryan. He really wanted to know what was in that package. Getting packages in the mail was always interesting. They usually meant presents, or perhaps even just more soap and toiletries from parents. He turned to Brendon and saw him trying to be discreet about eyeing the package under Ryan's chair, but it wasn't working very well and Jon smirked. "Come on, Ryan, you can't just receive something like that and then hide it from us. Honestly."

Brendon made a small sound of agreement, remembering numerous times before where he'd been forced to open random packages in front of Jon and Spencer. "It's kind of a rule, in a way." He said, shrugging.

"I have a feeling I never wanted to open this either way," he stated, but caved and reached under his chair for the package. He pushed his plate away and put the box in front of him, starting to work with the tape before he could finally tilt it open a bit, peeking inside the gap that was too small for anyone else to see. The first thing he saw was a note, printed, with a company logo on the top of the page. He carefully pulled it out, realizing it was one of those notes customers could send in gift packages even if they'd never been anywhere near the contents themselves.

Hey, Ry. Promised I'd make sure you were equipped, right? Here's everything you should need. Hope I'm not too late. Have fun and be safe. Tobe.

That didn't bode well, at all. "I'm not opening this here," he stated. "It's from my crazy, sex-obsessed brother who's probably been addicted since he was fourteen or something and can't get through his mind that I'm not the same." He tucked the note carefully back into the box, avoiding looking at the other contents, and put it quickly back under his chair.

Jon snorted, then burst out laughing. Covering his hands with his face, he threw his head back, letting out loud guffaws like there was no tomorrow. It was only when Spencer hit his arm that his laughter died down to chuckles. Jon wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and shook his head. "Oh, God, this is too good." He stated, shaking his head. He stretched in his chair, still laughing somewhat, and when his feet landed on the box, he pretended that nothing was happening and carefully pulled the box closer. It took him a few times, but he finally manoeuvred it around without hitting Ryan's legs, and got the box right underneath his own chair. Reaching down for it, he plucked it off the floor and then onto the table, smiling innocently.

Now it was Brendon's turn to laugh, though he was feeling a bit embarrassed about everything. How the hell had Jon managed that? He shook his head, looking at Ryan for his reaction, much like Jon was doing.

Ryan was pretty sure he knew almost exactly what was in the package, and when he realized Jon had it he automatically clawed out for it, only to have Jon pull it out of his reach with a broad grin. And then there was really nothing he could do. They were going to see and it would be total and utter humiliation. The situation, although completely different, was a little too much like his original high school, and he could feel a blush spreading furiously over his face as he leaned back in his chair and hid in his hands, just hoping Jon would at least be discreet enough that no one outside their table would see anything.

Brendon chuckled when Ryan tried to grab the package back, but when the boy leaned back in his chair, hands covering his face, the smile quickly disappeared. He inched his chair closer to Ryan and patted his head before turning to Jon. "Hey, maybe we can not do this. How about openi--" Brendon stopped, realizing that Jon was ignoring him and had opened the package already. Jon's smile dropped, then the corners of his mouth curled into something that looked much too evil to be a smile.

"Oh, score," he said, looking up at Brendon. He leaned in and dropped his voice to whisper. "Looks like you two are going to have fun," he whispered, then ducked his head back into the package. "With raspberries and ribbed latex," he finished when he came back up, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Now it was Brendon's turn to cover his face with his hands.

"I hate you," Brendon muttered.

"I hate Tobe," Ryan muttered, his face feeling much too hot against his hands. "I can't believe this. You know, perhaps you guys shouldn't come around for the summer anyway. I'll be spending it in prison for... I'm not sure if it will be for murder or castration yet." Finally he lowered his hands slowly, glaring at Jon. "There was a reason not to open that here," he grumbled, reaching across the table. And this time he managed to catch the package, push it closed and put it back under his own chair, which he slid far down on. Disappearing under the table himself didn't sound too bad right then.

Jon shrugged. "I don't see why you're so embarrassed. At least you're going to get some." He looked over at Brendon. "Right?"

"Oh, my God! Jon, stop talking!" Brendon said, rather loudly, and earned a few looks from other students. He whined quietly under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. "Spencer, please get him to stop talking. I swear, I'm going to kill myself this is so embarrassing." He let his head fall to the table and shook it against the wood, muttering to himself. Spencer chuckled and put his hand over Jon's mouth, quickly snatching it away when Jon licked his palm.

"Ewwww!" Spencer exclaimed, wrinkling his nose.

Despite his lingering embarrassment, Ryan still found himself nearly laughing at the look on Spencer's face. Then he took a deep breath, trying hard to force the blush away. He looked down at his half-full plate, fighting the sudden impulse to reach over and hold Brendon's hand, or pat him, or something to help him calm down. But they were in the cafeteria and he had a feeling it would only serve to make Brendon more embarrassed anyway. Besides, since when was it part of his job to comfort the boy? He looked more intensely at his food only to realize he wasn't exactly hungry anymore. And he definitely wasn't bringing the package to the next class. Nor was he leaving it here for anyone to find. "I'm... uhm, I'm going to head up," he finally declared. "There's still twenty minutes till class."

Brendon quickly pushed his chair back and got up. "Yeah, I'm coming, too." He said, clearing his throat. He looked around, hoping that it didn't look weird that he was leaving with Ryan. He looked down at Spencer, who was wiping his hand repeatedly on his pants, but smiling up at Brendon nonetheless. Brendon smiled back slightly, then turned to Ryan and waited.

"All right," Ryan said, reaching down again for the package and making sure to keep it in a firm grip so that no other curious, annoying little kids could take it from him, but also not close enough to make him too uncomfortable about it. Then he got quickly to his feet and followed Brendon, falling in step with him as they headed back to the dorm hall. He shook his head slightly. "Okay, so I already knew Tobe has no tact, but seriously? That was too much. I'm calling him after class." And he definitely was. Even if it had been a good idea, which it wasn't since it would probably be quite a while before they'd even need something like this, sending it with the regular mail to arrive at lunch in front of everyone. That was just idiotic.

Brendon chuckled quietly and nodded. "Yeah, and tell him that I said to fuck off, will you?" he asked, shaking his head. He didn't talk again until they reached Ryan's room. They entered the room quickly after Ryan had unlocked the door and Brendon took the time to look at the various pictures in Ryan's room. "This him?" he pointed to a picture of Ryan with his family and some other guy, who he guessed was his brother.

"Yeah," Ryan answered upon observing the picture into which both he and Tobias had been photo-shopped. He opened his closet and dumped the package inside without looking through the contents. "He's a good guy. I love him and all. I mean, he is my brother. But he's a little crazy and has absolutely no sense of propriety; I'll be the first person to admit that." Then he turned around to observe the boy for a moment, cocking an eyebrow slightly. "You all right?"

Brendon looked up at Ryan and nodded absently. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. Just... a little bit freaked out. I mean, I wasn't even thinking about that, yet," he chuckled nervously and looked away, picking at the fingers on his right hand with his left. He kept his gaze on his hand, not wanting to look up at Ryan right now.

"Yeah, me either," Ryan concurred. "Well, I guess I may have, in passing. But not as an option. Not for a long time." He took a breath and ceased his beginning rambling. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on Brendon's shoulder, giving a small squeeze. "We're far from ready for that step, so there's no need to start thinking about it just because of this, okay?" he added, walking just a bit closer.

Brendon chuckled again, though it was a bit strained, and nodded. "'Course." He put his arm around Ryan's waist and pulled the boy even closer, pressing his lips against Ryan's temple. "Anyway, I should probably get my books for class. I'll see you in English, though, right?"

Ryan turned his head quickly and caught Brendon's lips for a brief kiss. "Sure," he answered with a smile. "Have fun, or something."

Brendon nodded, letting his arm slip from around Ryan's waist and grabbing the boy's hand in his instead. He squeezed it gently and smiled before turning and leaving. "See you." He said, before disappearing into the hallway.

***

"So much stuff for one weekend?" Ryan asked as he helped Brendon stuff a large suitcase and a backpack into the backseat of his car. "You don't wash at home, do you?" He pulled his hoodie a little tighter around him, the early February evening feeling just a little colder than usual. And he was happy to finally get a couple of days off. Having some time to himself, getting to write reports without it being the middle of the night. Perhaps he'd even get to read a book or two. Just have some time to actually tend to himself. He wasn't going to miss Brendon. At all. At least he was telling himself that to avoid thinking about the fact that the boy had grown quite a bit on him over the last few weeks and that it may actually feel lonely to just be himself a whole weekend.

Brendon nodded, giving his suitcase one more push before throwing his messenger bag into the backseat with it. He was so not looking forward to getting home. "Uh, no. I just bring extras, in case anything happens, since all of my clothes are at school during the year. I have to be ready for dinner parties or outings with the parents, you know," he explained, shrugging. He took one last look into the car before turning to look at Ryan. "So, I'll see you Sunday? I'll probably be back before dinner." He cleared his throat, looking around to see if anyone was near before leaning closer. "I'd give you a kiss goodbye, but, um. The driver," he said, shifting uneasily and looking back towards the front of the car.

Ryan nodded, a schooled disappointed look crossing over his features. He felt like he'd done this for so long now that even he didn't really know the difference between faux and genuine. "It's okay," he said, though. "Good luck." And then he quickly wrapped his arms around the younger boy, giving him a quick squeeze and pulling away soon enough that it seemed completely platonic. "Can't wait for Sunday," he added with a small smile as he stepped back a little, giving Brendon room to enter the car.

Brendon smiled warmly, mouthing an apology, and winked before he turned to get into the car. He climbed inside, sitting in his usual seat, and leaned forward. "Could you get the door?" he asked, chuckling quietly. He waved as the door closed, then watched Ryan slide from view as the driver pulled away and out of the school parking lot. This was going to be a long weekend.

Brendon

"Thanks," Brendon muttered, following the driver up the front steps, looking around at the lush green grass and fragrant flowers covering the front lawn. If he had known they were staying in Grace Cottage, he would have packed less clothes. There were no dinner parties while they stayed here, mainly because it was his mother's domain and she was adamant that it stay hidden from the world. He smiled to himself. He loved staying at his mother's cottage. His mother had told him on numerous occasion the story behind said cottage. How his father had bought it for her and then named it after her. Many of his winters and summers as a child had been spent here. Without knocking, the driver took out a ring of keys from his pocket and used one of them to unlock the heavy, wooden, front door. As soon as they were in the entrance, Brendon was hit with warm air and the smell of pines and sweet spices. Smiling, Brendon pushed past the driver and took off his shoes and jacket, placing them in the closet near the door. Taking a deep breath, he wandered deeper into the cottage, bypassing the grand staircase and heading straight for the sitting room. As he walked along the hallways, the smell of burning wood became more prominent, almost overpowering every other smell. When he peeked into the sitting room, he smiled as he saw his mother sitting in a chair near the fireplace.

"Hello, mother," Brendon said quietly, walking into the room to place a kiss on the woman's cheek. She smiled warmly and stood from her chair, placing her book on the coffee table before bringing him into a hug. When she stepped back, she held him at arm's length and studied him without speaking. Shifting nervously under her gaze, Brendon averted his eyes and only looked back when she sighed happily.

"You're still quite short," she told him, a smile tugging at her lips. Brendon rolled his eyes and tried to move away, but she held on to his arms tightly. "But, of course, still as handsome as you've always been. How's school?" she asked. She rubbed his arms before sitting down in her chair again and motioning for Brendon to sit down.

"School is good," Brendon replied as he sat down in a wing back chair. "We've finished Shakespeare in English and I suspect we will be starting essays soon. Creative Writing is... interesting, to say the least. The journal we're meant to be writing is somewhat of a challenge, but I've been doing very well to date," he shrugged. "The other courses are less interesting, but I'm doing very well in them. Teachers are very happy with how well I'm doing, if their comments on quizzes are anything to go by. All in all, it's wonderful," he finished, smiling widely at her. She smiled back, her face crumpling slightly and making it look like she was about to cry.

"You're growing up so quickly, Brendon," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. Brendon bit his lip, shaking his head, but she cut him off when he was about to say something. "Now, dinner's in a few minutes. Your father would like to talk to you after that, in his study." With that, she wiped her eyes and quickly got up. She kissed his cheek and then quickly left. Brendon shook his head and smiled. Mothers.

|

"You wanted to speak to me?" Brendon asked his father, who was currently sitting at his desk in the private study. Without looking up, his father nodded and, with a wave of his hand, gave Brendon the option to sit down. Walking into the room, Brendon took the chair to the right and sat down in front of his father's desk, waiting patiently for the man to start talking. Honestly, he had no idea what the talk was going to be about. He was doing exceptionally well in school, and he'd done enough interviews to last a year during the Christmas break. Placing both arms on the arm rests, Brendon laced his fingers together and thought of Ryan, smiling slightly. God, he hoped his father hadn't somehow found out about that. How horrible would that be?

"We need to talk about marriage, Brendon." His father's voice cut through his thoughts and Brendon's eyebrows shot up. Before he could reply, his father continued. "As you know, it is tradition for the Prince to get married before he gets the Throne... Some of them had already been married, and others waited for a few days before the Coronation ceremony to get married, making it even more special. Now, it is not a prerequisite, of course, but I do, as your father, expect you to marry before receiving your place on the Throne." His father stared at him, unblinking, as Brendon gaped right back.

"But I- I don't even date, dad!" he exclaimed, before blushing furiously and shaking his head. "Father," he corrected himself before taking a few calming breaths. "I have not met anyone who I could even think of marrying. I am much too busy to be thinking of such inane things." He said, finally, liking the explanation and hoping his father would let it go. Unfortunately, the man wouldn't back down so easily.

"Brendon, I'm sure you could easily meet a respectable woman who suits you. Your school throws co-ed dances, does it not? No matter. The subject is not up for discussion. This summer, once you've finished school, your mother will hold dinners for her friends, many of whom have beautiful, well brought up daughters. I'm giving you options, Brendon, since you don't seem to be able to find someone on your own. You should count yourself lucky that I do not simply arrange your marriage to a girl you have never met. It's in your hands."

With this last sentence, Brendon knew that he'd been dismissed. As he got up, his father told him that they would talk again about it tomorrow. Brendon turned away and sneered before stomping out of the study angrily. He made his way upstairs, ignoring his mother's voice, and shut himself in his bedroom. Throwing himself onto his bed, Brendon shoved his head into his pillow and yelled into it. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate-- this," he said into the pillow, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Brendon awoke on Sunday after having locked himself in his room most of Saturday. He'd only made his presence known to eat something and to talk to his mother about how unfair his father was being. She'd been sympathetic, but wholly agreed with Brendon getting married, reminding him that it might still be a decade before he actually took the Throne. Possibly even more. That had calmed Brendon down some, but he knew that his father would want him to marry as soon as possible, in case something horrible happened and he died earlier than expected. Apart from that talk and pouting all day, Brendon had done nothing exciting. He hadn't even strolled around their back garden, something he loved doing.

Now, as he got ready to go back to school, Brendon thought of Ryan again. The boy obviously didn't deserve to be in a relationship with someone who was meant to be getting married. He deserved someone who he could have a real relationship with and show it to the world. Someone who was, obviously, not Brendon. He said goodbye to his parents, formal to his father and a kiss to the cheek for his mother. Waving one more time, Brendon followed his driver to the car, the man carrying his suitcase, and got into the car, the events of the weekend whirling in his mind.

The ride to school went by fairly quickly, probably because he hadn't been paying attention and was thinking things over too much. He made it up to his dorm quietly, not wanting to talk to anyone, and then locked himself in that room, hoping no one would pay him a visit. He didn't even want to go down for lunch, even though he'd arrived hours earlier than planned.

***

Ryan had spent the weekend, save for Saturday night when Spencer had dragged him out to go with him and Jon to catch the bus and go into town to see some new movie Jon had been overly excited about, in his room. He'd gotten the reports done. He'd gotten some of the pleasure reading he'd been missing done. He'd gotten so much done that by Sunday morning he had nothing left to do except homework that someone at HQ was already taking care of. And he was more bored than he'd ever thought he could get. The weekend of peace and quiet had been what he wanted, right? So why did he feel lonely and bored and frustrated? In the end all he could do was tell himself that he'd become so accustomed to having people around him and following some schedule or another that he didn't really know how to entertain himself anymore. It was a sad thought, but a lot better than the alternative.

Sunday morning he'd woken up at seven and couldn't fall asleep again, and so he forced himself to read another chapter of his book. Then he sent yet another pointless email to his mother and checked his regular email, forwarding all his junk mail to Tobias as a sort of payback for the episode a week and a half earlier. He'd immediately regretted the clearly immature action and had become even more frustrated than he'd been moments earlier, simply by the discovery that his old email didn't have an unsend feature. Then he'd deleted the account. It wasn't as though anybody ever wrote him anyway.

Upon deciding that messing more with his computer would only annoy him further, he took his morning shower and did what he could to make it take as long as possible, including a long, slow wank (which had ended in a cold shower when unbidden images just wouldn't leave his mind alone) and had finally spent too much time on hair and makeup. Then he dressed slowly and had still been down too early for breakfast and church.

He was leaving the auditorium, walking a few paces behind Spencer and Jon until the hall broadened and all three could walk next to each other, inwardly groaning with that annoying boredom that had only become worse by having to sit still through service. The cafeteria was becoming visible at the end of the hall, and he found himself grinning slightly. "Reckon he'll be here yet?" he asked the two others. "He said he'd be back before lunch."

Spencer shrugged, smiling. "Don't know. How about you go check?" he suggested, Jon snorting.

"Yeah, instead of boring us with your intense boredom, you freak. It's like you can't live without the guy, man," Jon said, shoving Ryan's shoulder. Spencer chuckled and nodded, because, hey, it was kind of true. In his eyes, at least, and apparently in Jon's, as well.

"But watch it. He's usually in one of his moods when he comes back from a weekend with his parents. Proceed with caution." Both Spencer and Jon burst out laughing at that little inside joke.

Ryan blushed slightly, but nodded. "Be back in a moment," he declared before taking a turn and heading in a different direction, towards the dorm halls. "I can too!" he yelled over his shoulder before walking on. The halls and stairs and rooms were familiar to him by then, easy to navigate, and for that he was grateful. He'd had enough of getting lost over the first week he'd been there. He absentmindedly climbed a flight of stairs and went down the hall to the right room where he raised a hand to knock.

Brendon groaned loudly. He watched Zach open the door and hoped whoever it was couldn't see him, even though his bed was right in front of the door and could be seen easily. Maybe Zach's body would hide him. He heard Zach say that he hadn't arrived yet and could he take a message? Brendon smiled and shoved his face into his pillow, hoping it was working. If it was Spencer, the boy would have just pushed his way past Zach and stomped his way into the room. Brendon hoped to God it wasn't Spencer.

Ryan looked up at Zach, blinking slightly. He was still wary of the man but had gotten more or less used to him over the last few weeks, even if he still gave him a sense of unease. "Uhm, no," he muttered, glancing past the bodyguard slightly to look at the room beyond. "We were just wondering if he was-" His eyes widened in surprise as he spotted the Brendon-sized lump in the covers, and a large part of him was undeniably happy to see the boy again. Even if he didn't really feel like admitting it. "Back yet," he finished, now looking back at Zach. "Because we've missed him and we'd love it if he were here to join us for lunch." He forced a smile at the large man. "Thanks." And then he turned around and went back towards the cafeteria, knowing that Brendon had gotten the invite, but also that he'd still be able to stay and have his alone time if he preferred.

Zach slammed the door so hard, Brendon jumped about five feet and felt as though the whole room were shaking. He looked up at the bodyguard, eyes wide. "What the hell was that for?!" he spluttered, sitting up in his bed. Zach shrugged and smiled evilly.

"Your friends want to see you, I think," he said, and Brendon scoffed. "Especially that one. Whatever happened with your father, hiding from people is not going to work. Now go to lunch or I'll carry you there," the bodyguard raised an eyebrow and advanced threateningly on Brendon."Fine, fine! God, not that it's any of your business," he grumbled and changed into some sweats and a t-shirt. He was feeling a bit depressed about everything and this attire seemed to help. Well, that's what they said on TV and in magazines. He left the room, pouting the whole way to the cafeteria, and sat down at his usual table without getting any food. "Hey," he said, staring down at the table.

"Hey!" Spencer said, pretending not to notice Brendon's mood. "We're having salad! Caesar salad! Your favorite, right? You should eat." But all he got in response was Brendon shrugging. Oh, well. He'd tried.

At Brendon's arrival, Ryan looked up and flashed a short smile, but it seemed to go completely unnoticed. Brendon wasn't even looking at him. He quickly reminded himself that the others had known Brendon longer and that Brendon was much more likely to seek their comfort if something unpleasant had occurred than Ryan's. He let his eyes dart about the table, unnerved with the quietness that wasn't really familiar amongst the four of them anymore. Then he decided to simply return to his food. If Brendon needed space he wasn't about to push. Better to let the boy come to him.

Most of the meal went by in complete silence, until Jon decided he'd had enough and slammed his hand into the table, making everyone else jump up in their seats and stare at him while he stared back at Brendon. "All right, that's it. Either tell us right now what happened, or go mope somewhere else." He said. Brendon clenched his jaw and his eyes darkened with anger. He looked briefly at Spencer, and could tell the boy wanted to know as well (though he wouldn't have been so mean about it), and sighed.

"Fuck you, Jon," he said, then turned to look at Spencer, ignoring Jon's presence. "My dad wants me to get married," he stated simply, then went back to staring at the table. Spencer's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He was silent for a few minutes before shaking his head.

"But you don't have to be married to take the Throne!" he said, his voice a loud whisper. Brendon snorted and shook his head.

"Yeah, well, it's a fucking tradition, and now I have to follow it. End of discussion," he replied. Spencer stared at him, at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what he could even say. 'It's not so bad,' would surely not do.

Ryan looked up immediately, almost feeling like his neck snapped at the sudden movement. He had no idea what to say or do about that. The idea, and especially the fact that Brendon seemed to at least be considering it, was a huge setback to everything. Perhaps even the end of his chance. And then he'd have to go back to playing the friend, perhaps having to stick around for a decade to get information he had otherwise hoped to be able to get in months. It wasn't hard at all to mix stunned and hurt on his own face. "What?" he found himself almost gasping, hands frozen on utensils that had previously been scraping food together on his near-empty plate. "You're seventeen."

Brendon shook his head miserably. He finally looked up and into Ryan's eyes, his eyebrows knit together. "I know. But that doesn't matter... I'm sorry." He sighed heavily and bit his lip, still holding Ryan's gaze. "My parents want me to start dating," he said. "Girls," he added quickly, his voice no higher than a whisper, barely audible.

Jon, who had been listening in silence, spoke up. "Well, can't you date girls and date Ryan at the same time? I mean, they could be your cover or something, right?" he asked hopefully, smiling at his own idea. Brendon shook his head.

"I'd have to marry one of them, Jon. Maybe not right now, but..." he trailed off, rolling his eyes. He was so pissed off and confused.

"It's okay," Ryan muttered, voice too soft and a little shaky. "I understand." He didn't know if being defiant and fighting it would've been a better idea, but he'd had next to no time to contemplate or it would have seemed fake either way. At least this way he could keep playing the friend, could hopefully keep doing his job. On the bright side, at least he was saving the rest of his firsts for when they would really matter. Even despite that, the tears came surprisingly easily to his eyes as he slowly pushed his chair back and left, walking back towards the dormitories. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there right then, of course not. It was just for effect and because he suddenly had another billion reports to write.

Spencer bit his lip and watched Ryan leave. He sighed and shook his head. "You should talk to him," he said gently, reaching over and patting Brendon's shoulder. Brendon nodded jerkily and stood, hurrying to catch up with Ryan. When he finally did, they were in the hallway that led to their dorms.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out to touch Ryan's shoulder. He felt like such an asshole, now, on top of everything else.

Ryan almost jumped a couple of feet in the air. He'd been composing the reports in his mind, word for word, and hadn't heard the footfalls of anyone following him. He recognized the voice, though, and, perhaps more vaguely, the feel of the warm weight on his shoulder. He looked back over his shoulder, pleased - where a moment ago he'd been annoyed - that his eyes, and perhaps his cheeks too, still felt a little too wet. "Hey," he returned, voice gravelly. Then he forced a small smile that somehow felt completely wrong on his face and probably looked wrong too. "It's okay," he said again, although he was suddenly uncertain of who the intended recipient of those words was. "You have to do what you have to do, and I can't play by your rules when you play by your father's."

Brendon let his arm drop and he frowned. He saw the tears glistening on Ryan's cheeks and felt his stomach clench. "Can we go to your room, please?" he asked anxiously, taking Ryan's wrist and dragging him along the corridor until they stood in front of the boy's door. "Quickly?" he said, again, sounding rather anxious. He had no desire of being seen by the principal on a stupid camera.

Nodding, Ryan reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled up a key, more than just a little surprised and confused by the events of the last few seconds. He tried to push the key into the lock with... shaking hands? When had his hands started to shake? He managed on the third try, turning the key in the lock and pushing the door open.

Brendon pushed them both into the room and closed the door before wrapping his arms around Ryan neck and pulling him closer. He kissed Ryan's cheeks repeatedly, his lips wet when he pulled back. "I really am sorry," he whispered before pulling away. He sighed loudly, the air ruffling Ryan's hair slightly, and let his arms drop to his sides. "But... it's not until this summer, right...?"

"Right," Ryan echoed before he suddenly felt a slight glimmer of... something. Hope? "So," he started, biting down on his bottom lip lightly. He couldn't afford to formulate his words wrongly, to let them come out bad in any way or this may end up being his biggest mess-up yet. Including that time at the academy when he'd been ill and had still had to train and had pretty much messed a hundred-thousand dollar manoeuvre up because he hadn't been able to think clearly. "So what are you going to do until then?"

Brendon smiled softly. "Well, I would like to continue how we were. But... if you don't, then that's fine. Because it would end for the summer..." he trailed off and lowered his gaze. He hated that his father had just sprung this on him. And how would he react if Brendon said he was gay? What would happen then? Were people from royal families allowed to be gay? Brendon almost laughed at the last thought. How absurd! He wasn't allowed to be anything he wanted... and he had to marry someone who would make his family, and the country, look good. Brendon bit the inside of his cheek, waiting for Ryan's answer.

Ryan let a smile spread over his face even as something gave a pang inside him. "I do," he muttered, allowing himself to lean forward again a little, leaning his lanky shape lightly against Brendon's more solid chest. Then he chuckled slightly. "And before Jon or Spencer rat me out, which would make it more embarrassing, I've been bored and irritable all weekend. I really missed you."

Brendon did chuckle this time, putting his arm around Ryan's shoulders again. "Missed you, too," he muttered. His father was going to skin him alive. Brendon and nuzzled his nose into Ryan's hair. "Anyway, what the hell am I going to do about this marriage shit? Unless gay marriage suddenly becomes legal and if the fact that I'd be disowned if my father found out weren't true, I have to get married. And I have to go out with a million girls this summer, apparently. It's all planned with my mom's friends..." he made a disgusted sound and pulled Ryan closer. "This is so fucked up," he finally stated.

"Actually," Ryan started, a devious little smile starting to form on his face before he tilted his head slightly and stole a quick peck - just to make the situation look more real. "It isn't that hard. Assuming your father actually wants you to get a good education, what you need to do is get into a university, something prestigious enough to please him, or perhaps even impress him. Then you act as though you have nothing against marriage, just the timing. You tell him, reasonably, making sure to seem as adult and smart and responsible as possible, that you can't be married so young and get a proper education at the same time. Either your studies would be half-arsed or your wife would be neglected. You could even bluff, say that you'd drop out of school and marry. If he has any sense at all, he lets you serve whatever military time you have for family traditions and go through with your education. It's not something that's going to last you your whole life, but it could give you up to five years."

Brendon chuckled. "You're completely insane, you know that?" he teased. "But it doesn't sound like such a horrible idea. My father obviously wants me to go to University... he'd still want me to date and bring girls home, though. And, ugh, I'd probably have to sleep with them," he grimaced, shivering at the thought. Sighing, Brendon pressed his lips to Ryan's hair and inhaled the scent of shampoo and soap. "So, you were bored without me, huh?"

Ryan couldn't help grimacing slightly at the thought of Brendon sleeping with someone else. Not that he really wanted Brendon to sleep with him, or- Why did he even care? That's right, he didn't. "Come on, your father wants you to be the good, proper Catholic boy. He'd probably be proud if you remained a virgin until marriage. That way there isn't as much of a chance of 'Royal bastards' starting to spring up out there. And those, from what I've heard, are always a huge embarrassment. Sometimes they've been enough to ridicule a King's whole rule. In England at least. Just make it seem like you're doing the smart thing, not what you want." And then he gave another small smile, turning his head a little until he was facing Brendon's neck where he left a single, short kiss. "And I was."

Brendon smiled, oddly happy that Ryan had been bored without him. "Well, I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I almost told my father about you, actually, when he said I had to get married. Could you imagine his face?!" he laughed loudly, though a bit nervously. He could, indeed, imagine his father's face. It would probably the face he'd make before promptly throwing Brendon out of the cottage and out of his life. He shuddered.

"I'm not sure I'd want to," Ryan stated, finally wrapping his own arms around Brendon's waist. It felt oddly nice, standing like that, all entwined. Well, he'd taken a psychology class in college, and according to the things he learnt there, it would be down to the fact that he never had a good relationship to his father and was subconsciously looking for closeness, approval and acceptance from another male. Simple as that. He turned his head up to smile at Brendon from his slumped position. "Standing like this is tiring in the long run," he stated. "The couch looks a lot more comfortable."

Brendon chuckled and led them to the couch, plopping down onto it and bringing Ryan down with him. "So, hey, I just thought about something you said," he started, looking down at Ryan with an amused smile. "You know how you said that my father would be proud if I remained a virgin?" he asked, then continued without waiting for a response. If he stopped now his confidence would surely evaporate and leave the stuttering mess he knew was waiting just below the surface. "Does that mean we're not going to do," he paused to clear his throat. "That?" he finally asked meekly and quickly looked away. He just wanted to know for personal reasons. What if he had to prepare for this kind of thing? He just had to know, really. It wasn't a matter of him wanting it or not. Not really.

Ryan forced himself not to gulp visibly and he leaned his head back down on Brendon's shoulder, hiding his wide eyes. "I don't know," he finally said, voice slow, calculated, low. "Depends on whether you'd want to, what you're comfortable with." What those questions entailed to Ryan didn't matter, he told himself. What he had wanted for himself, previously, what he felt and feared, none of that mattered. What mattered was gaining, and keeping, Brendon's trust, doing his job. "I'm not going to push," he added. "And if I ever do anything you aren't completely comfortable with, you say stop and I'll stop." He looked up again, keeping his face and eyes earnest. "I care too much about you to be willing to hurt you over something like that."

Brendon squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "I'm sure it's not all about me, though," he said. "And I'm not a someone you can push around, or anything, so I'm pretty sure I know that you'll stop if I say so," he chuckled, shaking his head. "But, thanks. I kind of care about you, too."

Ryan let out a slight laugh at that, pulling back just enough to really be looking at Brendon. "What I meant is that you shouldn't be afraid of hurting my feelings, or afraid that I'll think you're chicken or whatever if you ever want to back out of anything. I know you could push me off; what I'm afraid of are the times when you could and should but don't." He smiled slightly, reaching out and twining his hand with Brendon's, holding the connected hands up between them before letting them drop onto his thigh, squeezing slightly. "And I know it's about the both of us, but it should be by your pace."

"Okay, I get it," Brendon said quietly, his cheeks reddening slightly. He sighed softly and squeezed Ryan's hand right back, smiling down at their hands. "Thanks," he said again. "Did you have homework to do tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking at Ryan's alarm clock. He should probably go talk to Spencer and Jon sometime soon. And he had a ton of homework to do, since he'd been too busy being angry yesterday to do any of it.

"Already done it," Ryan answered. But he'd have to check his mail soon to see if those longer assignments had been sent back to him. Math and science of any kind had never come easily to him. Now it came, finished, through the email. "You can do yours in here if you want, or I can leave you to it. I have a good book to read anyway."

"Yeah, you're going to be a distraction, so I should probably go," he said, smirking. He leaned in and gave Ryan a kiss, lingering for a few moments before pulling back and licking his lips. "I'll see you at dinner, all right? And, hey, March break is coming up! A week without school, huh?" he winked and opened the door.

Another small fit of laughter escaped Ryan through his lips, and he let the smile remain in place on his face. "I know what you mean," he stated. "Doubt I'd get much reading done either." Then he frowned slightly, thoughtfully. "And I suppose it will. I'm just not sure where to go. It seems so far to go back to England for a week." Then he shrugged dismissively. "I'll figure something out," he decided. And he would. A nice hotel. Some sightseeing, perhaps. Of course that wasn't exactly part of his assignment, and the bureau would probably prefer to have him stay close to Brendon, but honestly, it didn't matter much. He was already weeks ahead of their original plan of expectancies.