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wl_fanfictionTitle: Did It Hurt When You Hit The Ground?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
desiredeffect
Chapter: 5/?
Summary: Greg ... goes shopping? And overhears something that gets him caught in his own cleverness.
Pairing(s): Eventual Ry/Greg. Past Greg/OMC
Rating: G
Author's notes: Yay I got inspired :D
Disclaimer: It's not lying, it's a gift for fiction.
--
Why do you come here?
When you know I've got troubles enough?
Why do you call me?
When you know I can't answer the phone?
--
The phone rang, the sharp, shrill sounds burying themselves under Greg’s skull. Muttering a few choice expletives under his breath, Greg opened his eyes, blinking in view of the harsh afternoon sun filtering in through the window. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he hoisted himself off it and paused in the doorway, watching the phone in the hall as it vibrated against the table.
As he moved to approach it, feet shuffling on the cold wooden floor and knot of apprehension in his chest, the phone clicked off and the answering machine picked up.
“Greg? It’s Ryan.”
Greg paused when the first syllable sounded, eyes narrowing.
“Listen, I got your number… my phone doesn’t have caller I.D for nothing you know.”
In spite of himself, Greg felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a slight smile, the man was determined, that much Greg knew for certain.
“Um. Well, I just wanted to apologise for last night. Just want to know, if I begged for your forgiveness, would I once again be permitted to see you? I know I’m not someone you probably think about at night or at any other time during the day and I know I’m presuming that I made you think of me right now, but consider my apology? Please?”
There was a noise like something clattering against a desk and the dial tone before the answering machine shut down. The light flashed a dull red, indicating to Greg that he had a message. And gee, like it wasn’t obvious.
His fingers hovered the delete button, feeling the anger curl deep in his stomach as he stares down at the answering machine.
Finally with a sigh, he turns slightly and pulls out the phone cord once more, dropping it to the floor with a satisfying clunk and heading to the kitchen.
As he pours himself a coffee, Greg pauses briefly wonders when Ryan wormed his way under Greg’s skin.
--
Greg’s always hated supermarkets. The fluorescent lights that glint so brightly off the pristine floor that he almost has to shade his eyes. The floor workers stacking shelves that curse under their breath when they see you approaching and plaster on fake smiles. And most of all the old women who believe that because they’re older they should have preference.
Greg thinks that maybe, just as a possibility, that he’s being a tad mean, but after the third old lady “accidentally” rams him in the back of the knees with their trolleys and unapologetic smiles, Greg revises his opinion and scowls the rest of the way through the store. He’s suddenly remembering why Tim did all the shopping – it was so Greg didn’t have to.
However, he’s forced to duck into an aisle with an undignified noise that he won’t admit to making later and that causes people’s heads to turn in his general direction.
Ryan Stiles, basket in hand, is strolling through the store, casually chatting to the sharp dressed man beside him.
“Hey, down here.” They turn into the aisle adjacent to Greg’s and he pretends to be ostensibly checking out labels on women’s deodorant as he follows them down the aisle, tracking their conversation and keeping a lookout for vengeful old ladies.
“So what is it you wanted to tell me? You don’t normally drag me out of work at lunchtime to go shopping.” There’s a hint of reproach in the other man’s voice and Greg smiles as he hears Ryan’s pleading reply.
”C’mon Col, we’ve been friends forever. Can’t you just join a guy on a shopping trip? It’s therapeutic or so I’ve been told.”
“Therapeutic if you’re a girl, Ryan. You really-oh, sorry ma’am, you really need to work on your lying skills. I’ve known you a little too long for that.”
“Yeah you’re right.” Greg can almost hear the defeat in Ryan’s voice as if he couldn’t refuse anything asked of this man.
"So?"
“There’s this guy.”
“Oh Ryan, not again. You know you’re not built to take so much rejection.”
“No, no it’s nothing like that. It doesn’t matter anyway. He hates me.”
“Hm? What’d you do to him then? Did you put prawns everywhere in his office where he couldn’t find them until he had to get someone in to fumigate the place because it stunk that bad?”
“No I …how did you know about what I did to Dan?”
“Ryan. It has all the marks of you all over it. I don’t see how everyone else couldn’t have suspected you.”
“Because no one knows me as well as you Col.” There’s an underlying smile in that tone and Greg is overcome with an urge to throttle the nicely attired man named Col.
“Hm. So what did you do?”
“Nothing as far as I’m aware. The man has a lot of pent up anger and Colin he’s just so bitter and I just want to make him better.”
“Sometimes Ryan, there’s just not much you can do for those people.”
Ryan and Colin’s voices trail away; Greg’s grip on the item in front of him doesn’t loosen.
When he slowly makes his way into the confectionary aisle, he almost runs headlong into Colin who is briskly moving in the opposite direction, hand wrapped around a packet of gummi bears. They exchange apologies and Colin smiles softly. Greg’s smile is forced and he’s not sure if Colin catches the underlying message in that smile that means I heard what you said, you prick, and I’m going to prove you wrong. Then again, he doesn’t think that much meaning could be given in a single look.
When he finally gets to the checkouts, they’re nowhere to be found and when Greg walks into the fresh air, he suddenly thinks he can breathe again.
--
The cupboards and fridge are looking more stocked then they have in the past year and Greg scowls absently, sucking on his index finger that he’d burnt while attempting to safely remove the chicken schnitzel from the frying pan. He will never forget that tongs as a utensil are most definitely a necessity.
When he finally collapses on his bed he makes murmured promises to no one that he’ll clean it up tomorrow. And Ryan’s voice runs absently through his head.
I know I’m presuming that I made you think of me right now, but consider my apology.
With an angry grunt, Greg throws the blankets over his head and buries his face in the pillow.
No.
And he realises, even as he thinks it, that by saying that, he’s just proving Colin right.
Author:
desiredeffectChapter: 5/?
Summary: Greg ... goes shopping? And overhears something that gets him caught in his own cleverness.
Pairing(s): Eventual Ry/Greg. Past Greg/OMC
Rating: G
Author's notes: Yay I got inspired :D
Disclaimer: It's not lying, it's a gift for fiction.
--
Why do you come here?
When you know I've got troubles enough?
Why do you call me?
When you know I can't answer the phone?
--
The phone rang, the sharp, shrill sounds burying themselves under Greg’s skull. Muttering a few choice expletives under his breath, Greg opened his eyes, blinking in view of the harsh afternoon sun filtering in through the window. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he hoisted himself off it and paused in the doorway, watching the phone in the hall as it vibrated against the table.
As he moved to approach it, feet shuffling on the cold wooden floor and knot of apprehension in his chest, the phone clicked off and the answering machine picked up.
“Greg? It’s Ryan.”
Greg paused when the first syllable sounded, eyes narrowing.
“Listen, I got your number… my phone doesn’t have caller I.D for nothing you know.”
In spite of himself, Greg felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a slight smile, the man was determined, that much Greg knew for certain.
“Um. Well, I just wanted to apologise for last night. Just want to know, if I begged for your forgiveness, would I once again be permitted to see you? I know I’m not someone you probably think about at night or at any other time during the day and I know I’m presuming that I made you think of me right now, but consider my apology? Please?”
There was a noise like something clattering against a desk and the dial tone before the answering machine shut down. The light flashed a dull red, indicating to Greg that he had a message. And gee, like it wasn’t obvious.
His fingers hovered the delete button, feeling the anger curl deep in his stomach as he stares down at the answering machine.
Finally with a sigh, he turns slightly and pulls out the phone cord once more, dropping it to the floor with a satisfying clunk and heading to the kitchen.
As he pours himself a coffee, Greg pauses briefly wonders when Ryan wormed his way under Greg’s skin.
--
Greg’s always hated supermarkets. The fluorescent lights that glint so brightly off the pristine floor that he almost has to shade his eyes. The floor workers stacking shelves that curse under their breath when they see you approaching and plaster on fake smiles. And most of all the old women who believe that because they’re older they should have preference.
Greg thinks that maybe, just as a possibility, that he’s being a tad mean, but after the third old lady “accidentally” rams him in the back of the knees with their trolleys and unapologetic smiles, Greg revises his opinion and scowls the rest of the way through the store. He’s suddenly remembering why Tim did all the shopping – it was so Greg didn’t have to.
However, he’s forced to duck into an aisle with an undignified noise that he won’t admit to making later and that causes people’s heads to turn in his general direction.
Ryan Stiles, basket in hand, is strolling through the store, casually chatting to the sharp dressed man beside him.
“Hey, down here.” They turn into the aisle adjacent to Greg’s and he pretends to be ostensibly checking out labels on women’s deodorant as he follows them down the aisle, tracking their conversation and keeping a lookout for vengeful old ladies.
“So what is it you wanted to tell me? You don’t normally drag me out of work at lunchtime to go shopping.” There’s a hint of reproach in the other man’s voice and Greg smiles as he hears Ryan’s pleading reply.
”C’mon Col, we’ve been friends forever. Can’t you just join a guy on a shopping trip? It’s therapeutic or so I’ve been told.”
“Therapeutic if you’re a girl, Ryan. You really-oh, sorry ma’am, you really need to work on your lying skills. I’ve known you a little too long for that.”
“Yeah you’re right.” Greg can almost hear the defeat in Ryan’s voice as if he couldn’t refuse anything asked of this man.
"So?"
“There’s this guy.”
“Oh Ryan, not again. You know you’re not built to take so much rejection.”
“No, no it’s nothing like that. It doesn’t matter anyway. He hates me.”
“Hm? What’d you do to him then? Did you put prawns everywhere in his office where he couldn’t find them until he had to get someone in to fumigate the place because it stunk that bad?”
“No I …how did you know about what I did to Dan?”
“Ryan. It has all the marks of you all over it. I don’t see how everyone else couldn’t have suspected you.”
“Because no one knows me as well as you Col.” There’s an underlying smile in that tone and Greg is overcome with an urge to throttle the nicely attired man named Col.
“Hm. So what did you do?”
“Nothing as far as I’m aware. The man has a lot of pent up anger and Colin he’s just so bitter and I just want to make him better.”
“Sometimes Ryan, there’s just not much you can do for those people.”
Ryan and Colin’s voices trail away; Greg’s grip on the item in front of him doesn’t loosen.
When he slowly makes his way into the confectionary aisle, he almost runs headlong into Colin who is briskly moving in the opposite direction, hand wrapped around a packet of gummi bears. They exchange apologies and Colin smiles softly. Greg’s smile is forced and he’s not sure if Colin catches the underlying message in that smile that means I heard what you said, you prick, and I’m going to prove you wrong. Then again, he doesn’t think that much meaning could be given in a single look.
When he finally gets to the checkouts, they’re nowhere to be found and when Greg walks into the fresh air, he suddenly thinks he can breathe again.
--
The cupboards and fridge are looking more stocked then they have in the past year and Greg scowls absently, sucking on his index finger that he’d burnt while attempting to safely remove the chicken schnitzel from the frying pan. He will never forget that tongs as a utensil are most definitely a necessity.
When he finally collapses on his bed he makes murmured promises to no one that he’ll clean it up tomorrow. And Ryan’s voice runs absently through his head.
I know I’m presuming that I made you think of me right now, but consider my apology.
With an angry grunt, Greg throws the blankets over his head and buries his face in the pillow.
No.
And he realises, even as he thinks it, that by saying that, he’s just proving Colin right.
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