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wl_fanfiction2006-12-23 01:10 pm
[minific] Debt
TITLE: DEBT
PAIRING: Ry/Col
RATING: G no sex whatsoever
DISCLAMER: FICTION. Don't own, don't sue.
THANKS TO: Zekkass for such awesome and inspiring (to me) drabblehintwords!!! You ROCK!
DEBT
It’s entirely too hot and entirely too humid and entirely too smoggy as I trudge down to the local used record shop to trade in some of the last of our CDs. I’m in a fairly rotten mood. We love these damn things, Deb especially, but if I don’t do it, the baby won’t eat, and my son’s life comes before everything else. Everything.
I hate California. I hate the crowds, the noise, the attitude, everything about it. It’s not fair, I know, but it’s true. So far, it’s been nothing but bad news to me. I can’t work here, but I stay because Deb has a chance, and I’d rather slit my wrists than to take that away from her just because I’m uncomfortable.
So caught up in my own thoughts am I that I don’t realize there’s a man directly in front of me, staring, until I plow right into him, knocking us both back a few steps.
“Oh,” I say immediately. “I’m sor---Ryan?”
He’s staring down at me, a strange combination of joy and horror in his eyes. I know the horror part. I’m not exactly looking my best. Too poor to even own a razor, my cheeks are stubbled like some 42nd street wino, and my clothes, though clean, are so threadbare, I’m sure you can probably see parts of me I don’t want seen right through them.
“Col?” he says, and though it’s been years, his voice warms me all over, just as it always has. “Col? I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?” He steps up and embraces me tightly. I’ve always loved his hugs. When Ryan hugs you, he puts his entire body and soul into it. None of this ‘hale-fellow-well-met’ slap on the back and then a quick departure. No, he just sort of engulfs you, flowing like water into your empty spaces and filling them up with the force of his vibrancy.
Miserable as I am, I can’t help but smile. He’s always had that effect on me. Too soon, though, he pulls away, though his huge hands are still clamped lightly on my shoulders as he again scans me up and down, frowning. “What…happened?”
I feel the blush starting, and I can tell it’s a doozy. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I’m wondering if my ears are about to just burn off. “N-nothing,” I lie. Badly. I don’t do lying well in the first place, and with him, it’s pretty much impossible. I affix a smile on my face and finally manage to meet his concerned eyes. “Just…you know…trading this CD for another.”
His look tells me he’s seeing right through me, and my blush strengthens. Maybe California will have one of those earthquakes it’s so famous for and swallow me whole.
No such luck.
His hands tighten. “The truth, Col. No bullshit. Not between us.”
Sighing, I cave and give him the whole story, or as much of it as I’m capable of giving at the moment. I feel whatever pride I might once have owned shriveling up and blowing away in the humid wind. I don’t dare look into his eyes now, because the pity I know I’ll see will truly be my undoing. I’ve managed to make it this far without tears, but that won’t last. Not with him. And if I cry, it’ll be all over. All of it. And it can’t be.
“Let me help,” he says softly, meaning every word of it a thousand times over.
“I….” My gaze is fixed to my sneakers, falling apart at the seams. “I…can’t, Ryan. Not this time. You’ve already helped me more than perhaps you’ll ever know, but this time...I need to do it myself.”
After a moment, and though I’m still not looking at him, I sense he’s nodding. He was always the one who read me best, and his understanding absolutely floors me sometimes.
“What are you going to do?” he asks softly.
I shrug. “When the last of the money runs out, and Deb’s show isn’t picked up, it’s back up to Toronto. Maybe I can find some work there.” What kind of work, I’m not sure, but at least being back in familiar surroundings will take some of the stress off of me, my wife, and our marriage. A marriage that is, surprisingly, staying together despite what we’re currently going through. Many would—and have—broken up long before this desperate point, but we’re both too pig headed and, to be truthful, too much in love, to let it get us down that far.
When I finally manage to look up, it’s to see a glint in his eye that is all too familiar and, at this point, all too unwanted. Maybe he doesn’t understand after all. “Listen,” he says, giving my shoulders another squeeze, “I’ve got this great gig over in England. It’s an improv show, and they’re always looking for good improvisors. And Col, you’re one of the best there is. They’d shit when they saw what you can do. I can get you an audition.”
I hold up my hand. “Thanks for the thought, Ryan. I appreciate it, I really do, but I need to do this on my own.”
“And you would be,” he counters gently. “I can get you a foot in the door, but the rest would be up to you. They’re…pretty harsh, but I’m not worried. Like I said, you’re the best, and they’ll see that right off.”
While I’m not too proud to admit that the idea does have some appeal, I’m not made to stand before television cameras. Funny or not, I don’t exactly have the look most producers crave.
He reads my mind again, just like old times, and grins. “Quit putting yourself down like that, Col. There’s a really eclectic group up there, and I know you’d fit right in. In fact, you’d blow their socks off. I’m serious.” He takes in a breath. “You introduced me to Improv, Col, and I want to thank you for that. It’s done more for me than you could ever know, and I know in my gut it’ll do the same for you. Tell me you’ll at least think about it. Please?”
I think about it for several long moments, staring down at the CDs, some of our favorites, in my hand. This…what he’s offering me…could be the big break of a lifetime. It could also, just as easily, put the final nail in the coffin of any hopes and dreams I might have had for entertaining this way. If they rejected me, I don’t know that I’d ever have the courage to do it again.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he says, grinning as he reads my damn mind yet again.
“Thank you, Captain Cliché,” I reply, but smiling to take the sting out of the words.
“So? Will you do it? Will you let me put a bug in the producer’s ear? I’ve kind of fallen into one of the starring roles there, and I’ve got some pull because of it.”
I snort. “Fallen. Yeah. You’re the consummate improvisor, Ryan. The only way you fall is deliberately. To get a laugh.”
He shrugs, even blushing lightly. “So?”
I take a deep breath. Let it out. Take another, then throw caution to the wind. “What the hell. If you can do it, then yes, I’d like to give it a try.”
Clenching his fists, he whoops like the little boy most of him still is, and yanks me into another all encompassing hug. “You won’t regret it, Col. I know you won’t.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Smartass.”
He smirks. “Yeah, but that’s how you like me.” Then he pales. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--.”
“It’s alright,” I reply, smiling up at him. And it is. What Ryan and I share is hard to explain or define, but our marriages have pretty much put an end to part of it. That we’re still friends is something beyond what I could ever have hoped for.
“Ok, then,” he says, finally pulling away and buzzing a light kiss across my lips. “Deal. I’m going back in a week, and I’ll talk to them then. Expect a call to your agent. You still have one, right?”
“Yeah, though he’s probably going to dump me soon. I’m not making him any money.”
“Tell him to fuck himself and sign on with mine, then,” he replies, scowling. “You deserve better, Col. God knows you do.”
I tighten my own arms around him, taking in his warm, Ryan scent. “I love you, Ry,” I mumble into his shirt. His hand comes up and strokes my already thinning hair.
“Right back at ya, Col. Now, go take care of that wife and that baby of yours and expect a phone call in the near future.”
The grin on his face and the sparkle in his eyes lights that little flicker of hope I thought I’d lost forever. “I will. You do the same, ok?”
“You bet.” He kisses me lightly once again—no one notices since this is California—and finally pulls away. “Take it easy, my friend. I’ll be seeing you again soon, you hear?”
“Yes, boss.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.” Smirking, he ruffles the few hairs that remain on the top of my head and, whistling as best as he’s able (which, in truth, isn’t very good at all), he strolls away and I turn to watch him go, smiling myself and shaking my head in amazement.
Better stop lollygagging, tho. The store’s almost about to close, and there’s a small baby who’d like to eat tonight.
I continue my walk through a world that suddenly seems much brighter than it had just ten minutes ago.
It’s men like him that makes me believe in humanity again. Is it any wonder I love him so?
FIN
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And you're welcome. Enjoy the prompt-words. :D
Merry Christmas!
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I still maintain you write the best stories/decadrabbles (: And it's so totally adorable and it's almost christmas so it all fits!
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Here's some freshly baked Christmas cookies. You deserve them.
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