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wl_fanfictionDon’t Stand So Close to Me
For: Sungreen70
Rated: PG-13 for language
Pairing: none really
Summary: Ryan wins and loses at the same time
Disclaimer: I don’t even own my cat, she owns me
Chapter 11
In the official report filed by the Warden, none of the faculty was seriously injured, Officer Brady returning to the job after being diagnosed with a slight concussion and in need of a couple of stitches, and Messer.’s Sherwood and Carey were put up for commendation with the parole board. Teacher’s Mr. and Mrs. McShane were safe in the booth with the reporters, the riot having never reached them while Mr. Mochrie and Mr. Proops managed to reach the safe room in Mr. Mochrie’s classroom.
The Warden never told on them, which made all three of them nervous as hell, especially when she spoke with them. She never said or did anything to suggest her knowledge of the omission from the report, and when asked, just smiled, flushing faintly before wandering away with a pleased smirk on her face. The men, however, didn’t want to test her patience with this gift, and so were forced to limit their contact.
The drama class was unfortunately shut down, being deemed the cause of the problem, and the project was aborted despite strong protests from the Warden, and her teachers and the students. Repairs and clean up were under way immediately.
And just when everything was settling it’s mussed feathers, all hell broke loose once more.
Clive had come to Ryan shortly after the riot absolutely terrified out of his wits. So much so that all of Ryan’s crew had crowded around him offering their own small bit of comfort. It seems that Clive had found the perfect way to pay Ryan back for his good deed. One of the casualties in the riot had been Patterson’s ‘payment’. Since that boy was out of commission, Clive had been selected as the runner up to keep Patterson’s darker tastes happy and his eyes blind.
The others had embraced the shaking boy, particularly Drew, who seemed unusually upset by what had happened to Clive. Ryan had stalked away to think, face absolutely terrifying in its rage. He had what he needed now. And it would never happen again.
That was all that really mattered.
“I told you Sessions, I ain’t doing this shit no more.” Ryan spat at the smaller boy, who was leaning coolly against the wall in an empty hallway. “People have died, and I found out that one of your crackheads started that fuckin’ riot! And guess what? More people died! No, I’m not transporting that shit anymore, not when it’s gonna kill people already too stupid to stay outta this place.”
John picked his nails. “Come now, Ryan, we had an agreement. I make sure you don’t get caught, you import my goods.”
“Yeah, well it ain’t even safe no more, ‘cause a bird decided to sing,” Ryan snapped.
John sobered instantly, smug look falling faster than lead in the Marianas Trench. “Who?”
“Why the fuck should I tell you? You didn’t tell me who you had in your pocket in the first place!”
“Tell me you smug faggot, or I’ll-”
“Or you’ll what? Bite my ankles?”
“Damn you Stiles, tell me the names or I’ll have your boyfriend.” Ryan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Which one did he know about? Neither Colin nor Greg were supposed to be dragged into this conversation. It could ruin them. Sessions saw the panic on Ryan’s face and smirked. “Yes I know all about your precious fling with-”
“Okay, alright dammit,” Ryan growled, using anger to hide his panic. “I’ll tell you his name. It was Patterson.”
“Ha!” Sessions barked. “I don’t believe you. We have him how do you say? Hook, line and sinker?”
“’Parently not, ‘cause the moment Warden showed him pictures and the ‘payment’s’ testimonial, not to mention the police report of your buddies making the shit on the outside, he cracked easier than a sugar stick.”
“You’re lying!” Sessions spat suddenly, stabbing a finger in Ryan’s chest… well… stomach. “You have no proof! He took the boy under our watch; no one could have been around for pictures! Besides, my father’s warehouses aren’t even in this bloody, fucking town! You cannot trace them!”
Ryan smiled widely, a feeling of bliss filling him. “Well ain’t that just ducky?” he said loudly.
Sessions blinked at him, uncomprehending for a second before cops flooded in, shouting for them both to hit the dust. Ryan did so, but John took off, getting as far as the entrance to the next hallway before five officers tackled him with a resounding thwack onto the linoleum floor. Ryan, cheek resting on his fist as he lay comfortably on the ground, watching the action idly, a big grin on his face. An expensive pair of shoes appeared in his field of vision and he looked up to see the Commandant looking down at him with a disapproving smile. Hell, everything looked disapproving on him. He was just that kind of guy.
Ryan rose, working out the kinks in his back from months of slouching, stretching to stand his full height before snapping a salute.
“Good work Stiles,” the Commandant looked over at the squalling boy with a scowl. “We’ve been trying to get at him for quite a while. That was some quick thinking, I must say.”
“Just a little improv, sir.” Ryan tugged his shirt out, unbuttoning and removing the wire. A little blonde technician, Kathy somebody Ryan thought, came out of nowhere and swooped away with it, barely registering who had given it to her.
“Indeed. I wish I’d caught the game, I hear it was quite amusing,” the Commandant’s face twitched into a semblance of a smile as Warden Weiz strode up, a confused Officer Brady at her heel.
“Hello daddy.”
“Hello darling, just congratulating the man of the hour,” he patted Ryan on the back. Ryan smiled at Max, nodding politely before something caught his eye over her shoulder.
Colin and Greg stood, stock still, papers forgotten on the floor at their feet.
Colin and Greg had been heading home for the night, class being over for the day, when a loud commotion caught their ears. Ryan, lying on the floor as dozens of cops poured out of every door and tackled another boy, Sessions, to the floor. Colin made to move forward, to reach Ryan, but Greg held him back as a well dressed man with medals and ribbons all over his chest approached Ryan. When Ryan rose, he was a completely different person, snapping a practiced salute, conversing with the Commandant with ease while removing a wire. Max joined them shortly with Brady, smiling and shaking Ryan’s hand. Then Ryan looked over and saw him and Greg.
Colin felt something soft in his heart go… snap.
Greg glanced between his lovers, not knowing whether to be glad, angry, or… he didn’t know. All he knew was his mind was buzzing, trying to interpret this enormous fact and failing miserably when he saw his friends in pain. Colin turned on his heel, papers left where they had fallen.
Ryan launched out of the circle, leaving Max to distract her father as he ran after Colin, grabbing his arm and turning him. “Colin, I… it was a job, just a job…”
Colin’s face darkened, a riot of confusion and hurt. “Oh?” he asked politely. “Well, have a good time on your next job. Congratulations on catching the bad guy,” he smiled, eyes empty of everything as he pulled out of Ryan’s limp fingers. Ryan felt his throat tighten as he looked from Colin’s retreating back to Greg, who stood leaning against the wall, watching him.
“You lied to us Ryan,” he said softly.
“I had to.” Ryan’s voice sounded weak, even to him. “It was for the job…”
“Good point. In this line of work, you can’t trust anyone.” Greg nodded, before walking off, hands in his pockets. Catching up to the man he wrapped a hand tightly around Colin’s.
Colin squeezed Greg’s hand tightly, biting his lip, knowing that if he turned around and saw Ryan, he’d cry. And he didn’t want to cry here. He didn’t want to cry here.
He just didn’t want to cry.
For: Sungreen70
Rated: PG-13 for language
Pairing: none really
Summary: Ryan wins and loses at the same time
Disclaimer: I don’t even own my cat, she owns me
Chapter 11
In the official report filed by the Warden, none of the faculty was seriously injured, Officer Brady returning to the job after being diagnosed with a slight concussion and in need of a couple of stitches, and Messer.’s Sherwood and Carey were put up for commendation with the parole board. Teacher’s Mr. and Mrs. McShane were safe in the booth with the reporters, the riot having never reached them while Mr. Mochrie and Mr. Proops managed to reach the safe room in Mr. Mochrie’s classroom.
The Warden never told on them, which made all three of them nervous as hell, especially when she spoke with them. She never said or did anything to suggest her knowledge of the omission from the report, and when asked, just smiled, flushing faintly before wandering away with a pleased smirk on her face. The men, however, didn’t want to test her patience with this gift, and so were forced to limit their contact.
The drama class was unfortunately shut down, being deemed the cause of the problem, and the project was aborted despite strong protests from the Warden, and her teachers and the students. Repairs and clean up were under way immediately.
And just when everything was settling it’s mussed feathers, all hell broke loose once more.
Clive had come to Ryan shortly after the riot absolutely terrified out of his wits. So much so that all of Ryan’s crew had crowded around him offering their own small bit of comfort. It seems that Clive had found the perfect way to pay Ryan back for his good deed. One of the casualties in the riot had been Patterson’s ‘payment’. Since that boy was out of commission, Clive had been selected as the runner up to keep Patterson’s darker tastes happy and his eyes blind.
The others had embraced the shaking boy, particularly Drew, who seemed unusually upset by what had happened to Clive. Ryan had stalked away to think, face absolutely terrifying in its rage. He had what he needed now. And it would never happen again.
That was all that really mattered.
“I told you Sessions, I ain’t doing this shit no more.” Ryan spat at the smaller boy, who was leaning coolly against the wall in an empty hallway. “People have died, and I found out that one of your crackheads started that fuckin’ riot! And guess what? More people died! No, I’m not transporting that shit anymore, not when it’s gonna kill people already too stupid to stay outta this place.”
John picked his nails. “Come now, Ryan, we had an agreement. I make sure you don’t get caught, you import my goods.”
“Yeah, well it ain’t even safe no more, ‘cause a bird decided to sing,” Ryan snapped.
John sobered instantly, smug look falling faster than lead in the Marianas Trench. “Who?”
“Why the fuck should I tell you? You didn’t tell me who you had in your pocket in the first place!”
“Tell me you smug faggot, or I’ll-”
“Or you’ll what? Bite my ankles?”
“Damn you Stiles, tell me the names or I’ll have your boyfriend.” Ryan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Which one did he know about? Neither Colin nor Greg were supposed to be dragged into this conversation. It could ruin them. Sessions saw the panic on Ryan’s face and smirked. “Yes I know all about your precious fling with-”
“Okay, alright dammit,” Ryan growled, using anger to hide his panic. “I’ll tell you his name. It was Patterson.”
“Ha!” Sessions barked. “I don’t believe you. We have him how do you say? Hook, line and sinker?”
“’Parently not, ‘cause the moment Warden showed him pictures and the ‘payment’s’ testimonial, not to mention the police report of your buddies making the shit on the outside, he cracked easier than a sugar stick.”
“You’re lying!” Sessions spat suddenly, stabbing a finger in Ryan’s chest… well… stomach. “You have no proof! He took the boy under our watch; no one could have been around for pictures! Besides, my father’s warehouses aren’t even in this bloody, fucking town! You cannot trace them!”
Ryan smiled widely, a feeling of bliss filling him. “Well ain’t that just ducky?” he said loudly.
Sessions blinked at him, uncomprehending for a second before cops flooded in, shouting for them both to hit the dust. Ryan did so, but John took off, getting as far as the entrance to the next hallway before five officers tackled him with a resounding thwack onto the linoleum floor. Ryan, cheek resting on his fist as he lay comfortably on the ground, watching the action idly, a big grin on his face. An expensive pair of shoes appeared in his field of vision and he looked up to see the Commandant looking down at him with a disapproving smile. Hell, everything looked disapproving on him. He was just that kind of guy.
Ryan rose, working out the kinks in his back from months of slouching, stretching to stand his full height before snapping a salute.
“Good work Stiles,” the Commandant looked over at the squalling boy with a scowl. “We’ve been trying to get at him for quite a while. That was some quick thinking, I must say.”
“Just a little improv, sir.” Ryan tugged his shirt out, unbuttoning and removing the wire. A little blonde technician, Kathy somebody Ryan thought, came out of nowhere and swooped away with it, barely registering who had given it to her.
“Indeed. I wish I’d caught the game, I hear it was quite amusing,” the Commandant’s face twitched into a semblance of a smile as Warden Weiz strode up, a confused Officer Brady at her heel.
“Hello daddy.”
“Hello darling, just congratulating the man of the hour,” he patted Ryan on the back. Ryan smiled at Max, nodding politely before something caught his eye over her shoulder.
Colin and Greg stood, stock still, papers forgotten on the floor at their feet.
Colin and Greg had been heading home for the night, class being over for the day, when a loud commotion caught their ears. Ryan, lying on the floor as dozens of cops poured out of every door and tackled another boy, Sessions, to the floor. Colin made to move forward, to reach Ryan, but Greg held him back as a well dressed man with medals and ribbons all over his chest approached Ryan. When Ryan rose, he was a completely different person, snapping a practiced salute, conversing with the Commandant with ease while removing a wire. Max joined them shortly with Brady, smiling and shaking Ryan’s hand. Then Ryan looked over and saw him and Greg.
Colin felt something soft in his heart go… snap.
Greg glanced between his lovers, not knowing whether to be glad, angry, or… he didn’t know. All he knew was his mind was buzzing, trying to interpret this enormous fact and failing miserably when he saw his friends in pain. Colin turned on his heel, papers left where they had fallen.
Ryan launched out of the circle, leaving Max to distract her father as he ran after Colin, grabbing his arm and turning him. “Colin, I… it was a job, just a job…”
Colin’s face darkened, a riot of confusion and hurt. “Oh?” he asked politely. “Well, have a good time on your next job. Congratulations on catching the bad guy,” he smiled, eyes empty of everything as he pulled out of Ryan’s limp fingers. Ryan felt his throat tighten as he looked from Colin’s retreating back to Greg, who stood leaning against the wall, watching him.
“You lied to us Ryan,” he said softly.
“I had to.” Ryan’s voice sounded weak, even to him. “It was for the job…”
“Good point. In this line of work, you can’t trust anyone.” Greg nodded, before walking off, hands in his pockets. Catching up to the man he wrapped a hand tightly around Colin’s.
Colin squeezed Greg’s hand tightly, biting his lip, knowing that if he turned around and saw Ryan, he’d cry. And he didn’t want to cry here. He didn’t want to cry here.
He just didn’t want to cry.
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