[FIC] Before the Dawn 5/13
Jan. 25th, 2008 11:11 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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wl_fanfictionTitle: Before the Dawn
Author: Clay
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Greg/Chip, Ryan/Greg, Colin/Jeff, mention of past Greg/Mike
Rating: NC-17 for other chapters
Summary: Greg tries not to live in the past but love and temptation have a funny way of coming back around again. Betaed by Lyndsey; original concept by Clay and Lyndsey.
Word Count: 4,091
All Chapters
Chapter 5
Tomorrow was their anniversary. Greg stared at the miniature wall calender hanging just to the left of the bedroom’s full length mirror. A brightly colored picture of a kitten—a little orange fuzzball that had been shoved into a sloppy lobster costume—stared back at him, its tiny eyes wide in a silent plea for help.
“I feel for you, buddy,” Greg said, smiling as he trailed his finger along the days, wondering how long they had left in this ‘winter wonderland.’
After they’d returned the previous night, tensions had been running high. Jeff had still been curled against Colin’s side, dozing now, and Colin didn’t seem to mind. Ryan, however, had bristled immediately, spending the rest of the evening pouting like a scorned child on the far side of the room and downing half the bottle of butterscotch schnapps he’d picked up for his lover. Colin had watched him in hurt confusion.
“It hadn’t meant anything,” Greg and Chip overheard him saying later that night as they retreated to their room, said just a little too loudly from behind Ryan and Colin’s closed door. They’d exchanged a look but hadn’t said anything, and no one spoke of the incident the next morning, though only Drew seemed to be in high spirits.
’Maybe we’ve outstayed our welcome,’ Greg had thought to himself absently as he caught sight of the calender. He’d gone to it immediately.
Today was their fourth day in the mountains, he reminded himself, and that meant three more days and two nights. But his finger lingered on the small, serif 19, wondering why it seemed so important.
And then in hit him.
“Shit.”
It wasn’t that he’d forgotten on purpose. A lot had been going on, and it had simply slipped his mind. He frowned and curled his fingers against the coated paper, sighing. He didn’t have a present.
“Knock, knock,” came Colin’s voice suddenly. He poked his head into the room as Greg jerked around, starting horribly. Their eyes caught and held for a moment, and then Colin stepped in the room, his smile softening.
“Are you all right?”
Greg gave a short nod, forcing himself to smile. “Anniversary,” he said by way of explanation, and Colin nodded in understanding, crossing over to him with a gentle smile.
“Ah, yes.” Colin turned his head to study the calender Greg had so quickly forgotten. “Not really your thing if I remember correctly.” His smile turned a little wry, and he cocked his head, looking back to Greg, overtly studying him. “Mike used to bitch to me about it all the time. He was a good guy.”
“Still is,” Greg said, shrugging, and Colin nodded.
“You were good together. What ever happened with him, anyway? I don’t think you ever told me.”
Greg frowned, looking away. He hadn’t thought of Mike in ages, though they tried their best to keep in touch. The break had been easy as far as breaks go, and sometimes he thought Mike just never really let on how much Greg had hurt him.
“I met someone else,” he said simply, content to leave out the fact that nothing had ever actually happened between him and this other man, though it left him wondering if there would ever be a time where he wasn’t willing to turn his life upside down for Ryan Stiles.
They stared at the calender in a bemused silence for a minute, and the more Greg watched, the more horrified and desperate the kitten seemed to become.
“Well,” Colin said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Chip is hotter anyway.” He turned to Greg with a knowing wink. “And there’s nothing wrong with turning in for a younger model, right?”
Surprise forced a barking laugh from Greg’s throat, and he turned to Colin, looking him over approvingly. “Jesus, Mochrie, when did you turn into such an asshole?”
Colin just shrugged, smiling a deceptively innocent smile, and said, “Let’s just say I’ve been known to do a little shopping myself.”
The smile dropped off Greg’s face immediately, but Colin ignored it, still smiling angelically. “Right. So, I actually came in here because we decided to go into town for a little bowling. Are you in?”
Greg nodded, watching Colin carefully, waiting for an explanation, but when Colin only continued to grin and then nodded in return before starting toward the door, Greg reached out, clasping Colin’s shoulder tightly. “Hey, Col?” he asked as Colin turned back to him, his face blank. “Everything all right between you and Ryan?”
Colin watched him for a moment, and the smile that touched his lips was heady with regrets. “We’ve been better,” he said before pulling away.
* * *
Chip was out by default, so to even things up, they played in teams of two, Drew and Greg versus Colin and Jeff, each with their own personal cheering section—Chip and Ryan hanging back—though Ryan paid little attention to the game.
It was the last round, and they were leading by a full fifteen points when Greg stooped down to heft up his ball. “We’ve got this in the bag,” he said, grinning, and Drew grinned right back, lifting his plastic cup of beer in a mock salute.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” he joked with a wink.
Greg laughed looking back to where Chip sat happily along the row of plastic seats. His eyes were alight, as though something about the hum of the balls over the polished wood lanes and the crack of pins, something about the stale scent of popcorn hanging in the air and the lights and colors of the arcade down the way brought out the child in him. Greg loved Chip best when he was like this, when he was in his element, so awake and alive, just bursting with energy. It was the first time he’d really seen Chip like this since he’d hurt his ankle and it eased his heart and mind.
He smiled, letting the sounds and the energy of the building fill him, too, and he stepped up to the line and drew his arm back.
A sudden shriek had him stumbling, however, the ball slipping from his fingers to land heavily on the lane. It rolled in a haphazard wobble only to thunk into the gutter halfway to the pins.
Greg jerked his head over, glaring.
Jeff was leaping in the air, arms extended over his head, his thin t-shirt hitching with each jump to show off an expanse of smooth, pale skin. He ran forward, skittering to a halt just before Colin and then flinging himself into his arms with a gleeful cackle.
Greg raised an eyebrow. “What—?”
“Colin got a strike,” Drew muttered into his cup.
It was well known that Colin was the poorest player among them, and it was only by Jeff’s skill that they were even in the running. So Greg couldn’t help but smile at the pleased and thoroughly embarrassed flush touching Colin’s cheeks, even as he called out in mock anger, “You fucked up my throw, asshole!”
Jeff was still cackling. He drew away from Colin to happily flip Greg the bird. Then he turned back to Colin, his own cheeks flushing with a giddy adrenaline, took Colin’s cheeks between his palms—and kissed him.
Greg laughed out of sheer astonishment, and his eyes shot over to Ryan almost instinctually.
Ryan had spent the majority of the game stretched out along his own set of seats so nonchalant that Greg could only assume it was forced. And he had to assume because once more he and Ryan were avoiding each other in a way they hoped wasn’t too obvious.
Now, however, Ryan was drawing himself out of his chair, his face darkening, bright splotches of red coloring his cheeks, his eyes narrowing in a way Greg had become far too familiar with as of late. He was pissed, and the strength, the power behind that look had Greg fighting an immediate arousal. Ryan was never sexier than when he was ready to brawl, but Greg shook his head, forcing himself back to the present, forcing himself to follow Ryan’s jerky steps as he crossed over to Colin and Jeff, twisted one fist into the back of Jeff’s shirt and yanked back—hard.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?”
He shoved Jeff aside, but Jeff wasn’t having it. He drew his wits about him quickly, dancing out of Ryan’s reach even as he rounded on him, glaring.
“What the fuck did it look like I was doing?”
Drew snickered, and Greg wished he had popcorn. “Looks like there’s gonna be a throw down,” Drew whispered into his ear, but Greg just shook his head, smirking.
“We should stop them.”
“Or we could go tag team. I’m with Ryan. You can have Jeff.”
“Sorry, big guy, but I’m not really looking to wrestle with you if you know what I mean.” Greg threw him a wink, then looked back to the action, his smile fading. Yes, they were playing around, but this was serious. Honest angered colored Jeff and Ryan’s words and actions, and there was a very real possibility that they’d need to throw themselves into the fray.
In the scant few seconds that had passed, Ryan had stepped forward and shoved Jeff, too angry to form coherent words, and Jeff had come right back, shoving Ryan in return, their rented shoes squeaking on the worn tile.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan!” Jeff shouted. “I was just congratulating him!”
“Maybe you need to learn to keep your hands to yourself!”
“Well maybe if you gave half a shit about Colin yourself—“
“Don’t tell me what to do, kid.”
“Stop it!”
Colin pushed forward, worming his way between the two men who had been slowly inching forward and were, at this point, literally toe to toe, snarling into each others’ faces. Colin pressed a hand to both Jeff and Ryan’s chest, parting them with surprising force. “Stop it,” he said again, softer now, his gaze darting between them anxiously.
“Colin, he—“ Jeff started just as Ryan clamped one hand around Colin’s arm, yanking him away from Jeff and taking a step back himself.
“You’re mine,” Ryan said quietly, his deep baritone almost a growl against the muted sounds of the bowling alley.
Colin stared at Ryan for a moment, then pulled his arm away, frowning. “It was just a kiss, Ryan. It didn’t mean anything.”
“It never does, does it?” Ryan shot back, though the flush was fading from his cheeks as he calmed.
Colin shook his head, then met Ryan’s gaze squarely. “You need to remember that you don’t own me, Ryan.”
Ryan stared at him, the color fading from his cheeks completely now. He drew back another step, his eyes darting to Jeff for a split second before he looked back to Colin. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you see it. Whatever you want, Col. Have a nice fucking life.” And he turned on his heel, starting away as he fished a pack of Malboros from his pocket.
“Shit.” Colin ducked his head, raking his hands through the fringes of his hair. It was Drew he finally looked to, shooting him an apologetic glance, apparently unable to meet anyone else’s eyes. “Head back,” Colin said to him, his voice soft but firm. “Ryan and I will catch up.” With that, he took off at a jog, following Ryan out of sight.
They all stared after him for a moment, then tension palpable, then Drew took a deep breath and threw on a weary smile. “So,” he said. “Who’s turn was it?”
* * *
They ended up finishing the game in spite of the inherent tension or perhaps because of it, looking for some semblance of normality before they piled back into the RV. Greg glanced around the parking lot as they left, but the Range Rover was nowhere in sight.
By dinner time, Ryan and Colin still hadn’t returned, so they ate in front of the television, throwing forced quips back and forth. They weren’t talking about the fight, but it somehow dominated the conversation anyway as Jeff kept his eyes glued to the clock, quieter than usual. They were all a little off, though Drew and Chip did their best to keep the tone of the evening light, but midnight came and went, and there was still no sign of their companions, and through an unspoken unison, it was agreed that they’d give up, give in and go to bed, hoping tomorrow would be a brighter day.
“I wonder where they are,” Chip said as he tucked himself against Greg’s side in their usual position, then pulled the covers up over his shoulders.
Greg stared at the ceiling, worry turning his stomach over until he was sure he would get no sleep, and sighed. “I wish I knew.”
* * *
The slamming of the front door pulled Greg from a fitful doze less than an hour later. The clock read 1:03 as Greg struggled to sit up. Chip was shifting in bed, murmuring groggily, but Greg paid him little mind, stroking his hair out of habit to soothe him as he listened to a single pair of heavy footfalls pounding up the stairs. The door across the hall creaked open, and then silence reigned.
“I’m going to go see what’s going on,” Greg said, immediately awake. Chip’s answer was little more than a sleepy mumble, and Greg didn’t hesitate as he pulled himself from the bed and padded to the door, cracking it open a few inches.
The first thing he saw was Drew, mussed from sleep and dressed in a simple white t-shirt and boxers. He was leaning against the frame of Colin and Ryan’s door, looking inside dolefully. He turned, however, at the sound of Greg’s door opening, fixing him with an unnameable expression for just a moment before looking back into the room.
“What’s...” Greg started, but he honestly didn’t expect an answer, so instead he let the question trail away, coming over to stand by Drew and looking in himself.
Colin was inside the room, alone and hastily scouring the floor and closet for errant bits of clothing that he subsequently shoved into a suitcase that sat open at the end of the bed.
“What’s going on?” Greg tried again, directing the question at Colin now.
Colin’s head shot up, and he aimed a glare at Greg that had him taking a full step back. “You can just leave me the hell alone,” he said, then dove back into his work.
Greg and Drew exchanged a worried look, and then Drew took the reigns.
“Colin, what happened?” he prodded gently.
“We’re over,” came Colin’s blunt reply. He raised his eyes to Greg once more, stills scowling. “Happy?”
Greg started. “No, I—“
“And I’m leaving. I’m going to go call a taxi.”
“What!?” Drew shot Greg another harried glance, then darted forward, crossing over to Colin in a few long strides and then laying a hand on his back. “You can’t just leave. It can’t just be over like that. I mean, ten years—“
“—apparently doesn’t mean a God damned thing to Ryan,” Colin finished for him. He was done packing now and started to tug the zipper closed, his hand shaking.
“But you could talk this over,” Drew continued, unfazed.
“That’s all we’ve done all day, Drew. It’s over. Just leave it.”
Drew looked back to Greg one last time in a desperate, silent plea for help, but Greg was still watching Colin, his mouth drawn down into a frown. Ryan had said something to him. That much was obvious, but what exactly, whether he told Colin what had gone on between them or perhaps something else, something more, was up in the air.
“Jesus,” Drew said around a quiet groan, running a hand over his hair. “Okay, Colin, listen. Just stay the night, okay? There’s an extra bed in Jeff’s room. You can sleep there and then start fresh in the morning. Please?” He was begging now. “Just stay.”
Colin heaved a deep sigh, raising his eyes to Drew’s. He looked ready to continue arguing, but as the seconds ticked by, his resolve seemed to fade, and the weariness of the day weighed down his shoulders. Finally he gave a jerky nod, hefting up his suitcase.
“Fine,” he said. “One more night.”
Drew’s shoulders sank in relief as he watched Colin totter out the door under the weight of his valise. Greg backed off further, giving Colin room to pass as he crossed the threshold, but then darted forward as Colin passed him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Col?”
Colin stilled and turned his head slightly, though he didn’t speak.
“Don’t tell Chip.”
Colin just snorted in vague disbelief and pulled away, working his way down the hall. He disappeared into Jeff’s room, the door closing behind him with a gentle click.
Drew came up beside Greg, watching Jeff’s closed door with him, his arms tucked around his chest, mouth set into a grim line. “One down,” he said with a sigh. “Now the question is where’s Ryan?”
As though on cue, the tinkle of glass reached their ears from downstairs, and Greg and Drew looked to each other. Drew gave a nod and started toward the stairs, but Greg reached out, grabbing the back of his shirt and halting him.
“Wait,” he said, hoping his voice betrayed nothing but platonic concern. “Let me.”
Drew nodded, pulling back, but as Greg passed him, stepping off the landing, Drew called out, “Hey, Greg?”
Greg looked to him, his heart sinking slightly at the strange light in Drew’s eyes that looked oddly like suspicion.
“What was all that, anyway? Colin seemed pretty pissed at you. Is there something going on?”
Greg wet his lips and shook his head, turning to look back down the stairs. “I have no idea, Drew.”
* * *
Ryan was in the kitchen, doing a shoddy job of sweeping up a broken glass when Greg stepped through the doorway. There was an open bottle of vodka on the table, and Ryan didn’t notice him immediately, so Greg just hung back, watching.
“Ry?” he said after a full minute had passed and it seemed as through Ryan would never look up.
Ryan started, the broom slipping from his fingers to clatter on the floor. He peered owlishly at Greg, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and Greg knew that vodka wasn’t the only thing he’d been drinking that night. Suddenly Ryan’s eyes narrowed. He glared at Greg for a moment and then stooped to pick up the broom, straightening up again a little too slowly to be sober.
“What do you want?” The words were mumbled and muddled together, but Greg managed to make them out well enough. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.
“Just came to check on you,” he said. “Colin said something about.... I guess you two broke up?”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Ryan mocked, spinning one finger in the air, then bringing it to the tip of his nose as he met Greg’s eyes again. “You don’t miss anything, do you, Sherlock?” He gave up on the glass then, leaving shards still scattered about the floor. They crunched underfoot as Ryan retreated to the table, taking a seat and picking up the vodka. He upended it into his mouth, and Greg rolled his eyes.
“You’re drunk,” Greg said, sighing.
Ryan looked back to him, smiling darkly. “And you’ve got a thing for stating the obvious. Got another one for me? Like how this is all your fault?”
Greg tensed, watching Ryan back with a grim confusion. “My—? That doesn’t even make sense. You were fighting about Jeff.”
Ryan nodded and looked down after taking another deep gulp from the bottle. He cringed and smacked his lips. “That’s how it started, yeah.”
“And besides,” Greg continued, still lost, “nothing happened.”
Ryan chuckled mirthlessly. He shook his head and got to his feet, slowly but steadily, and Greg wondered how much of this was an act even as Ryan scooped up the bottle, carting it behind him. “Yeah,” Ryan agreed. He stepped up to Greg, eyeing him with a distant sort of hunger. He pressed in close, though they didn’t touch, and said, “But I wanted it to.”
And then he was moving away, shaking his head once more and leaving Greg to stare at the place where he’d stood, his mouth working soundlessly.
And then his legs kicked in.
“Ryan, wait!” Greg called, chasing after him. He reached Ryan at the foot of the staircase, grabbing at his sleeve so that they both stumbled to a halt. Ryan, in his inebriated state, simply stared down at the offending limb for a moment before blearily raising his eyes to Greg’s.
“What,” Greg said, his heart beating wildly at the base of his throat, “are you fucking playing at, Ryan?” Ryan frowned and Greg pressed on. “First you want me, then you don’t. First you tell me you love Colin, now you tell me you want me. What are you doing?”
“I do love Colin,” Ryan said, jerking his arm away and then elbowing Greg back. “I always loved him, but I was never in love with him. He was just a friend that turned into a fuck that I took too far, and tonight I let him know that.”
Greg stared at him, and despite himself, despite everything, he couldn’t help the strain of hope running through his veins.
“...What are you saying, Ryan?”
“I’m saying,” Ryan said, rounding on him, stepping toward him and pushing him back until Greg’s back was against the wall and oh God, he was already half way to getting hard from anticipation alone. “That you fucked it all up. I never would have said a word if not for you. No, I’m not in love with Colin, but he was a damn good lay, all right? I could have spent the rest of my life with him, and now I’ve got fuck all.” His mouth twisted into a sneer and he looked Greg over again. “And I’m starting to think you’re not worth my time, Proops.”
But Greg was barely listening. He watched Ryan’s lips, so close to his, and his breath was coming out in short, shallow gasps that left him light headed.
“Fuck,” Ryan whispered, pressing closer still before dipping his head and kissing him.
Greg kissed him back without thought, without hesitation. He was still feeling light headed, almost giddy as he slid his hands up Ryan’s chest, so warm through the loose sweater he’d donned that morning. This was Ryan, and oh, this was actually happening, and he knew it shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why, not when he’d fantasized about this moment for years, not when he’d wanted it practically since the day they’d met no matter what had come to pass since.
Ryan’s hands were at his sides, holding him a little too tightly, the forgotten bottle of vodka freezing his skin, and the kiss was sloppy; Ryan tasted bitterly of alcohol, and his lips were rough from the wintry air, and Greg’s back was chilled through where he was pressed against the cold wall even as his front burned for Ryan’s heat. But it was perfect.
Ryan grunted softly, pressing his hips forward, letting Greg know that he was feeling it, too, but then he was pulling back so slightly. His warm breath washed over Greg’s mouth as he panted lightly.
Greg opened his eyes—he couldn’t remember having closed them—and looked at Ryan. Ryan’s eyes were dark in the half light of the foyer, pupils dilated to show just the barest hint of green irises.
“Greg...” Ryan whispered, holding him tighter still, and Greg wet his lips, his fingers curling against the scratchy wool of the sweater, feeling it prick his palms and wishing it was Ryan’s bare skin.
But then a sudden, strangled cry from the upper landing had them snapping their heads toward the sound. At the same moment, Ryan jerked back, stumbling; the neck of the vodka bottle slipped from his fingers, thunking to the hardwood floor dully, and the liquid rushed out, pooling around their feet.
Chip stood at the top of the stairs, his face white. Time seemed to stand still. The only sound was the slow glug of vodka spilling to the floor. And then Chip turned and fled.
Author: Clay
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Greg/Chip, Ryan/Greg, Colin/Jeff, mention of past Greg/Mike
Rating: NC-17 for other chapters
Summary: Greg tries not to live in the past but love and temptation have a funny way of coming back around again. Betaed by Lyndsey; original concept by Clay and Lyndsey.
Word Count: 4,091
All Chapters
Tomorrow was their anniversary. Greg stared at the miniature wall calender hanging just to the left of the bedroom’s full length mirror. A brightly colored picture of a kitten—a little orange fuzzball that had been shoved into a sloppy lobster costume—stared back at him, its tiny eyes wide in a silent plea for help.
“I feel for you, buddy,” Greg said, smiling as he trailed his finger along the days, wondering how long they had left in this ‘winter wonderland.’
After they’d returned the previous night, tensions had been running high. Jeff had still been curled against Colin’s side, dozing now, and Colin didn’t seem to mind. Ryan, however, had bristled immediately, spending the rest of the evening pouting like a scorned child on the far side of the room and downing half the bottle of butterscotch schnapps he’d picked up for his lover. Colin had watched him in hurt confusion.
“It hadn’t meant anything,” Greg and Chip overheard him saying later that night as they retreated to their room, said just a little too loudly from behind Ryan and Colin’s closed door. They’d exchanged a look but hadn’t said anything, and no one spoke of the incident the next morning, though only Drew seemed to be in high spirits.
’Maybe we’ve outstayed our welcome,’ Greg had thought to himself absently as he caught sight of the calender. He’d gone to it immediately.
Today was their fourth day in the mountains, he reminded himself, and that meant three more days and two nights. But his finger lingered on the small, serif 19, wondering why it seemed so important.
And then in hit him.
“Shit.”
It wasn’t that he’d forgotten on purpose. A lot had been going on, and it had simply slipped his mind. He frowned and curled his fingers against the coated paper, sighing. He didn’t have a present.
“Knock, knock,” came Colin’s voice suddenly. He poked his head into the room as Greg jerked around, starting horribly. Their eyes caught and held for a moment, and then Colin stepped in the room, his smile softening.
“Are you all right?”
Greg gave a short nod, forcing himself to smile. “Anniversary,” he said by way of explanation, and Colin nodded in understanding, crossing over to him with a gentle smile.
“Ah, yes.” Colin turned his head to study the calender Greg had so quickly forgotten. “Not really your thing if I remember correctly.” His smile turned a little wry, and he cocked his head, looking back to Greg, overtly studying him. “Mike used to bitch to me about it all the time. He was a good guy.”
“Still is,” Greg said, shrugging, and Colin nodded.
“You were good together. What ever happened with him, anyway? I don’t think you ever told me.”
Greg frowned, looking away. He hadn’t thought of Mike in ages, though they tried their best to keep in touch. The break had been easy as far as breaks go, and sometimes he thought Mike just never really let on how much Greg had hurt him.
“I met someone else,” he said simply, content to leave out the fact that nothing had ever actually happened between him and this other man, though it left him wondering if there would ever be a time where he wasn’t willing to turn his life upside down for Ryan Stiles.
They stared at the calender in a bemused silence for a minute, and the more Greg watched, the more horrified and desperate the kitten seemed to become.
“Well,” Colin said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Chip is hotter anyway.” He turned to Greg with a knowing wink. “And there’s nothing wrong with turning in for a younger model, right?”
Surprise forced a barking laugh from Greg’s throat, and he turned to Colin, looking him over approvingly. “Jesus, Mochrie, when did you turn into such an asshole?”
Colin just shrugged, smiling a deceptively innocent smile, and said, “Let’s just say I’ve been known to do a little shopping myself.”
The smile dropped off Greg’s face immediately, but Colin ignored it, still smiling angelically. “Right. So, I actually came in here because we decided to go into town for a little bowling. Are you in?”
Greg nodded, watching Colin carefully, waiting for an explanation, but when Colin only continued to grin and then nodded in return before starting toward the door, Greg reached out, clasping Colin’s shoulder tightly. “Hey, Col?” he asked as Colin turned back to him, his face blank. “Everything all right between you and Ryan?”
Colin watched him for a moment, and the smile that touched his lips was heady with regrets. “We’ve been better,” he said before pulling away.
Chip was out by default, so to even things up, they played in teams of two, Drew and Greg versus Colin and Jeff, each with their own personal cheering section—Chip and Ryan hanging back—though Ryan paid little attention to the game.
It was the last round, and they were leading by a full fifteen points when Greg stooped down to heft up his ball. “We’ve got this in the bag,” he said, grinning, and Drew grinned right back, lifting his plastic cup of beer in a mock salute.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” he joked with a wink.
Greg laughed looking back to where Chip sat happily along the row of plastic seats. His eyes were alight, as though something about the hum of the balls over the polished wood lanes and the crack of pins, something about the stale scent of popcorn hanging in the air and the lights and colors of the arcade down the way brought out the child in him. Greg loved Chip best when he was like this, when he was in his element, so awake and alive, just bursting with energy. It was the first time he’d really seen Chip like this since he’d hurt his ankle and it eased his heart and mind.
He smiled, letting the sounds and the energy of the building fill him, too, and he stepped up to the line and drew his arm back.
A sudden shriek had him stumbling, however, the ball slipping from his fingers to land heavily on the lane. It rolled in a haphazard wobble only to thunk into the gutter halfway to the pins.
Greg jerked his head over, glaring.
Jeff was leaping in the air, arms extended over his head, his thin t-shirt hitching with each jump to show off an expanse of smooth, pale skin. He ran forward, skittering to a halt just before Colin and then flinging himself into his arms with a gleeful cackle.
Greg raised an eyebrow. “What—?”
“Colin got a strike,” Drew muttered into his cup.
It was well known that Colin was the poorest player among them, and it was only by Jeff’s skill that they were even in the running. So Greg couldn’t help but smile at the pleased and thoroughly embarrassed flush touching Colin’s cheeks, even as he called out in mock anger, “You fucked up my throw, asshole!”
Jeff was still cackling. He drew away from Colin to happily flip Greg the bird. Then he turned back to Colin, his own cheeks flushing with a giddy adrenaline, took Colin’s cheeks between his palms—and kissed him.
Greg laughed out of sheer astonishment, and his eyes shot over to Ryan almost instinctually.
Ryan had spent the majority of the game stretched out along his own set of seats so nonchalant that Greg could only assume it was forced. And he had to assume because once more he and Ryan were avoiding each other in a way they hoped wasn’t too obvious.
Now, however, Ryan was drawing himself out of his chair, his face darkening, bright splotches of red coloring his cheeks, his eyes narrowing in a way Greg had become far too familiar with as of late. He was pissed, and the strength, the power behind that look had Greg fighting an immediate arousal. Ryan was never sexier than when he was ready to brawl, but Greg shook his head, forcing himself back to the present, forcing himself to follow Ryan’s jerky steps as he crossed over to Colin and Jeff, twisted one fist into the back of Jeff’s shirt and yanked back—hard.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?”
He shoved Jeff aside, but Jeff wasn’t having it. He drew his wits about him quickly, dancing out of Ryan’s reach even as he rounded on him, glaring.
“What the fuck did it look like I was doing?”
Drew snickered, and Greg wished he had popcorn. “Looks like there’s gonna be a throw down,” Drew whispered into his ear, but Greg just shook his head, smirking.
“We should stop them.”
“Or we could go tag team. I’m with Ryan. You can have Jeff.”
“Sorry, big guy, but I’m not really looking to wrestle with you if you know what I mean.” Greg threw him a wink, then looked back to the action, his smile fading. Yes, they were playing around, but this was serious. Honest angered colored Jeff and Ryan’s words and actions, and there was a very real possibility that they’d need to throw themselves into the fray.
In the scant few seconds that had passed, Ryan had stepped forward and shoved Jeff, too angry to form coherent words, and Jeff had come right back, shoving Ryan in return, their rented shoes squeaking on the worn tile.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan!” Jeff shouted. “I was just congratulating him!”
“Maybe you need to learn to keep your hands to yourself!”
“Well maybe if you gave half a shit about Colin yourself—“
“Don’t tell me what to do, kid.”
“Stop it!”
Colin pushed forward, worming his way between the two men who had been slowly inching forward and were, at this point, literally toe to toe, snarling into each others’ faces. Colin pressed a hand to both Jeff and Ryan’s chest, parting them with surprising force. “Stop it,” he said again, softer now, his gaze darting between them anxiously.
“Colin, he—“ Jeff started just as Ryan clamped one hand around Colin’s arm, yanking him away from Jeff and taking a step back himself.
“You’re mine,” Ryan said quietly, his deep baritone almost a growl against the muted sounds of the bowling alley.
Colin stared at Ryan for a moment, then pulled his arm away, frowning. “It was just a kiss, Ryan. It didn’t mean anything.”
“It never does, does it?” Ryan shot back, though the flush was fading from his cheeks as he calmed.
Colin shook his head, then met Ryan’s gaze squarely. “You need to remember that you don’t own me, Ryan.”
Ryan stared at him, the color fading from his cheeks completely now. He drew back another step, his eyes darting to Jeff for a split second before he looked back to Colin. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you see it. Whatever you want, Col. Have a nice fucking life.” And he turned on his heel, starting away as he fished a pack of Malboros from his pocket.
“Shit.” Colin ducked his head, raking his hands through the fringes of his hair. It was Drew he finally looked to, shooting him an apologetic glance, apparently unable to meet anyone else’s eyes. “Head back,” Colin said to him, his voice soft but firm. “Ryan and I will catch up.” With that, he took off at a jog, following Ryan out of sight.
They all stared after him for a moment, then tension palpable, then Drew took a deep breath and threw on a weary smile. “So,” he said. “Who’s turn was it?”
They ended up finishing the game in spite of the inherent tension or perhaps because of it, looking for some semblance of normality before they piled back into the RV. Greg glanced around the parking lot as they left, but the Range Rover was nowhere in sight.
By dinner time, Ryan and Colin still hadn’t returned, so they ate in front of the television, throwing forced quips back and forth. They weren’t talking about the fight, but it somehow dominated the conversation anyway as Jeff kept his eyes glued to the clock, quieter than usual. They were all a little off, though Drew and Chip did their best to keep the tone of the evening light, but midnight came and went, and there was still no sign of their companions, and through an unspoken unison, it was agreed that they’d give up, give in and go to bed, hoping tomorrow would be a brighter day.
“I wonder where they are,” Chip said as he tucked himself against Greg’s side in their usual position, then pulled the covers up over his shoulders.
Greg stared at the ceiling, worry turning his stomach over until he was sure he would get no sleep, and sighed. “I wish I knew.”
The slamming of the front door pulled Greg from a fitful doze less than an hour later. The clock read 1:03 as Greg struggled to sit up. Chip was shifting in bed, murmuring groggily, but Greg paid him little mind, stroking his hair out of habit to soothe him as he listened to a single pair of heavy footfalls pounding up the stairs. The door across the hall creaked open, and then silence reigned.
“I’m going to go see what’s going on,” Greg said, immediately awake. Chip’s answer was little more than a sleepy mumble, and Greg didn’t hesitate as he pulled himself from the bed and padded to the door, cracking it open a few inches.
The first thing he saw was Drew, mussed from sleep and dressed in a simple white t-shirt and boxers. He was leaning against the frame of Colin and Ryan’s door, looking inside dolefully. He turned, however, at the sound of Greg’s door opening, fixing him with an unnameable expression for just a moment before looking back into the room.
“What’s...” Greg started, but he honestly didn’t expect an answer, so instead he let the question trail away, coming over to stand by Drew and looking in himself.
Colin was inside the room, alone and hastily scouring the floor and closet for errant bits of clothing that he subsequently shoved into a suitcase that sat open at the end of the bed.
“What’s going on?” Greg tried again, directing the question at Colin now.
Colin’s head shot up, and he aimed a glare at Greg that had him taking a full step back. “You can just leave me the hell alone,” he said, then dove back into his work.
Greg and Drew exchanged a worried look, and then Drew took the reigns.
“Colin, what happened?” he prodded gently.
“We’re over,” came Colin’s blunt reply. He raised his eyes to Greg once more, stills scowling. “Happy?”
Greg started. “No, I—“
“And I’m leaving. I’m going to go call a taxi.”
“What!?” Drew shot Greg another harried glance, then darted forward, crossing over to Colin in a few long strides and then laying a hand on his back. “You can’t just leave. It can’t just be over like that. I mean, ten years—“
“—apparently doesn’t mean a God damned thing to Ryan,” Colin finished for him. He was done packing now and started to tug the zipper closed, his hand shaking.
“But you could talk this over,” Drew continued, unfazed.
“That’s all we’ve done all day, Drew. It’s over. Just leave it.”
Drew looked back to Greg one last time in a desperate, silent plea for help, but Greg was still watching Colin, his mouth drawn down into a frown. Ryan had said something to him. That much was obvious, but what exactly, whether he told Colin what had gone on between them or perhaps something else, something more, was up in the air.
“Jesus,” Drew said around a quiet groan, running a hand over his hair. “Okay, Colin, listen. Just stay the night, okay? There’s an extra bed in Jeff’s room. You can sleep there and then start fresh in the morning. Please?” He was begging now. “Just stay.”
Colin heaved a deep sigh, raising his eyes to Drew’s. He looked ready to continue arguing, but as the seconds ticked by, his resolve seemed to fade, and the weariness of the day weighed down his shoulders. Finally he gave a jerky nod, hefting up his suitcase.
“Fine,” he said. “One more night.”
Drew’s shoulders sank in relief as he watched Colin totter out the door under the weight of his valise. Greg backed off further, giving Colin room to pass as he crossed the threshold, but then darted forward as Colin passed him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Col?”
Colin stilled and turned his head slightly, though he didn’t speak.
“Don’t tell Chip.”
Colin just snorted in vague disbelief and pulled away, working his way down the hall. He disappeared into Jeff’s room, the door closing behind him with a gentle click.
Drew came up beside Greg, watching Jeff’s closed door with him, his arms tucked around his chest, mouth set into a grim line. “One down,” he said with a sigh. “Now the question is where’s Ryan?”
As though on cue, the tinkle of glass reached their ears from downstairs, and Greg and Drew looked to each other. Drew gave a nod and started toward the stairs, but Greg reached out, grabbing the back of his shirt and halting him.
“Wait,” he said, hoping his voice betrayed nothing but platonic concern. “Let me.”
Drew nodded, pulling back, but as Greg passed him, stepping off the landing, Drew called out, “Hey, Greg?”
Greg looked to him, his heart sinking slightly at the strange light in Drew’s eyes that looked oddly like suspicion.
“What was all that, anyway? Colin seemed pretty pissed at you. Is there something going on?”
Greg wet his lips and shook his head, turning to look back down the stairs. “I have no idea, Drew.”
Ryan was in the kitchen, doing a shoddy job of sweeping up a broken glass when Greg stepped through the doorway. There was an open bottle of vodka on the table, and Ryan didn’t notice him immediately, so Greg just hung back, watching.
“Ry?” he said after a full minute had passed and it seemed as through Ryan would never look up.
Ryan started, the broom slipping from his fingers to clatter on the floor. He peered owlishly at Greg, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and Greg knew that vodka wasn’t the only thing he’d been drinking that night. Suddenly Ryan’s eyes narrowed. He glared at Greg for a moment and then stooped to pick up the broom, straightening up again a little too slowly to be sober.
“What do you want?” The words were mumbled and muddled together, but Greg managed to make them out well enough. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.
“Just came to check on you,” he said. “Colin said something about.... I guess you two broke up?”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Ryan mocked, spinning one finger in the air, then bringing it to the tip of his nose as he met Greg’s eyes again. “You don’t miss anything, do you, Sherlock?” He gave up on the glass then, leaving shards still scattered about the floor. They crunched underfoot as Ryan retreated to the table, taking a seat and picking up the vodka. He upended it into his mouth, and Greg rolled his eyes.
“You’re drunk,” Greg said, sighing.
Ryan looked back to him, smiling darkly. “And you’ve got a thing for stating the obvious. Got another one for me? Like how this is all your fault?”
Greg tensed, watching Ryan back with a grim confusion. “My—? That doesn’t even make sense. You were fighting about Jeff.”
Ryan nodded and looked down after taking another deep gulp from the bottle. He cringed and smacked his lips. “That’s how it started, yeah.”
“And besides,” Greg continued, still lost, “nothing happened.”
Ryan chuckled mirthlessly. He shook his head and got to his feet, slowly but steadily, and Greg wondered how much of this was an act even as Ryan scooped up the bottle, carting it behind him. “Yeah,” Ryan agreed. He stepped up to Greg, eyeing him with a distant sort of hunger. He pressed in close, though they didn’t touch, and said, “But I wanted it to.”
And then he was moving away, shaking his head once more and leaving Greg to stare at the place where he’d stood, his mouth working soundlessly.
And then his legs kicked in.
“Ryan, wait!” Greg called, chasing after him. He reached Ryan at the foot of the staircase, grabbing at his sleeve so that they both stumbled to a halt. Ryan, in his inebriated state, simply stared down at the offending limb for a moment before blearily raising his eyes to Greg’s.
“What,” Greg said, his heart beating wildly at the base of his throat, “are you fucking playing at, Ryan?” Ryan frowned and Greg pressed on. “First you want me, then you don’t. First you tell me you love Colin, now you tell me you want me. What are you doing?”
“I do love Colin,” Ryan said, jerking his arm away and then elbowing Greg back. “I always loved him, but I was never in love with him. He was just a friend that turned into a fuck that I took too far, and tonight I let him know that.”
Greg stared at him, and despite himself, despite everything, he couldn’t help the strain of hope running through his veins.
“...What are you saying, Ryan?”
“I’m saying,” Ryan said, rounding on him, stepping toward him and pushing him back until Greg’s back was against the wall and oh God, he was already half way to getting hard from anticipation alone. “That you fucked it all up. I never would have said a word if not for you. No, I’m not in love with Colin, but he was a damn good lay, all right? I could have spent the rest of my life with him, and now I’ve got fuck all.” His mouth twisted into a sneer and he looked Greg over again. “And I’m starting to think you’re not worth my time, Proops.”
But Greg was barely listening. He watched Ryan’s lips, so close to his, and his breath was coming out in short, shallow gasps that left him light headed.
“Fuck,” Ryan whispered, pressing closer still before dipping his head and kissing him.
Greg kissed him back without thought, without hesitation. He was still feeling light headed, almost giddy as he slid his hands up Ryan’s chest, so warm through the loose sweater he’d donned that morning. This was Ryan, and oh, this was actually happening, and he knew it shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why, not when he’d fantasized about this moment for years, not when he’d wanted it practically since the day they’d met no matter what had come to pass since.
Ryan’s hands were at his sides, holding him a little too tightly, the forgotten bottle of vodka freezing his skin, and the kiss was sloppy; Ryan tasted bitterly of alcohol, and his lips were rough from the wintry air, and Greg’s back was chilled through where he was pressed against the cold wall even as his front burned for Ryan’s heat. But it was perfect.
Ryan grunted softly, pressing his hips forward, letting Greg know that he was feeling it, too, but then he was pulling back so slightly. His warm breath washed over Greg’s mouth as he panted lightly.
Greg opened his eyes—he couldn’t remember having closed them—and looked at Ryan. Ryan’s eyes were dark in the half light of the foyer, pupils dilated to show just the barest hint of green irises.
“Greg...” Ryan whispered, holding him tighter still, and Greg wet his lips, his fingers curling against the scratchy wool of the sweater, feeling it prick his palms and wishing it was Ryan’s bare skin.
But then a sudden, strangled cry from the upper landing had them snapping their heads toward the sound. At the same moment, Ryan jerked back, stumbling; the neck of the vodka bottle slipped from his fingers, thunking to the hardwood floor dully, and the liquid rushed out, pooling around their feet.
Chip stood at the top of the stairs, his face white. Time seemed to stand still. The only sound was the slow glug of vodka spilling to the floor. And then Chip turned and fled.
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