Club Overpass | Ryden/Brallon

Waffle House Shenanigans | Chapter Four

In the morning, Brendon woke up to a text from an unknown number. Clearly Ryan's. He groaned.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: Let's have breakfast. I'm paying.

Brendon: Do I have much of a choice?

Ryan: Probably not.

Brendon hated arrogant, rich people. But there were some benefits, he supposed. Free breakfast did seem appealing, considering his hunger and his lack of food in his apartment at the moment.

Brendon: Fine.

Half an hour later, the two met up at Waffle House. Brendon had specifically requested no fancy shit, so Ryan just naturally picked Waffle House. What is trashy to Ryan is honestly treasure to Brendon. Don't hate till you try their hashbrowns, man.

Naturally, Ryan tried to initiate conversation while they waited for their food. "So, why'd you become a stripper?"

Brendon was not expecting such a loaded question this early in the morning. He took a long, uncomfortable sip of water. "Why did you become a business man?" he retorted, avoiding the question.

"It was passed down from my father," Ryan said, with a dull tone. "Answer the question, please."

"I don't think I am required to tell you that."

"Well, I'm the one paying for breakfast, so... It kind of goes my way."

Brendon wanted to scream because it didn't work that way. What kind of answer was he expecting? The only reason people become a stripper is because of financial reasons that were probably caused by their tragic backstory. Recalling his own past made Brendon want to weep, honestly, so he was pondering whether or not Ryan got off on other people's misery.

"I was kicked out of my parent's house when I was sixteen," Brendon answered glumly. "There's not many options when you can't finish high school."

"Why'd you get kicked out?" Ryan questioned, tilting his head. He was honestly the most socially inept person Brendon had ever met. You don't just ask random strangers this kind of stuff!

Brendon wanted to refuse answering, but Ryan did always get his way. That's why he had received Brendon's number in the first place. He sighed heavily. "They were Mormon, and I was gay and atheist. You do the math."

At that moment, their waiter came by with their food, placing their plates down. Brendon was totally ready to demolish those hashbrowns, until the waiter tapped his shoulder. He looked up, momentarily confused until he handed him a small slip of paper. One glance down at it confirmed that it was his number.

He winked at him, and then strutted off to continue doing his job. At least he was somewhat professional. He could respect that. As soon as the waiter was gone, he crumpled up the paper

Ryan stared at him with interest, before picking up his fork and knife to cut his waffle. "Why didn't you consider him? I mean, you are gay."

"First, I'm not attracted to every guy I meet," Brendon calmly responded. "And secondly, romantic attachment isn't very ideal with my occupation."

He left it at that, and started eating. Even if Ryan did want to ask another question, he could always shrug him off by saying he was trying to finish his meal. Who knew food was a good replacement for uncomfortable conversation.

He finished before Ryan, wiping his mouth with a napkin. For a moment, he then thought back to all the information he had revealed. It was truly the only way to get Ryan to shut up, but he regretted it. He already knew too much for his liking.

"Why did you want to know all that?" Brendon questioned, genuinely curious.

Ryan swallowed his mouthful of food. "I told you before that I want to get to know you."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Because this is a fanfiction and I have to be immediately interested in you to move the plot along."

"What?"

"I said that you just interested me."

Interest was a complicated thing. Normally, it's actually a good thing in the business. He can normally play on that to get guests to throw more cash, but to be interested to this extent was threatening. Brendon had no idea what Ryan truly wanted. He had suggested fucking, but that's always what Brendon thinks people want from him.

"I can't say the same about you." Brendon replied, after a long moment about thinking. "I saw you for what you are the first moment we made eye contact. You've only proven my assumptions over time."

"Assumptions." Ryan paused, dropping his fork on the plate. It made a slight clanging noise, but for some reason, Brendon was more fixated on Ryan than the normally distracting sound. There was something about his expression that stood out to him. Ferociousness and self confidence. "You're assuming things. Just as I don't know you, you don't know me. Don't just assume that you do."

"You think I'll be impressed with what I'll learn about you if we get to know each other?" Brendon laughed, genuinely. What a funny joke.

"I think there are two sides to everyone," Ryan said, apparently not thrown off by his laughter. "I'm not just some arrogant, rich guy who doesn't understand the struggles of the lower class."

"Ryan, you suggested going all the way downtown just to get fucking breakfast. I think you're slightly out of touch," Brendon retorted, almost glaring. Sure, maybe he did assume what Ryan was like, but it's not like he made it hard to.

"They have good pie," Ryan argued, glaring as well.

"The poor can't afford the gas to get anywhere they want!" Brendon exclaimed, almost standing up dramatically. Almost.

"They do if they want good fucking pie!"

Brendon shook his head in disbelief. There was no way to get through to him. Ryan Ross, the man born with a fucking silver spoon in his mouth, could never understand. He had always been rich because of his father. There was never a day he worked all damn night just so he can survive. Survival, for him, was never an issue.

Fuck capitalism, Brendon thought to himself.

"Fine. I'll agree to give you a chance. If you don't impress me, you have to admit you were wrong and also buy me Waffle House hashbrowns for life," Brendon suddenly proposed, holding out his hand in front of him.

"And if I win?"

"You get the satisfaction of being right and impressing me."

Ryan hesitated, before shaking his hand. Brendon could taste the hashbrowns already.