FIC: Casual Friday 1/1

[lorenafire.livejournal.com]

Title: Casual Friday
Pairing: Colin/Ryan
Rating: PG, maybe PG-13 for language.
Summary: A night out with the Stiles and Mochries becomes considerably more.
Author's Note: Challenge #15 on fanfic100. Blue.



"What is it with you and blue?"
- Colin to Ryan, "Greatest Hits"
~~

It took three autographs apiece, but we've made it into the theater safely and on time for our show, a miraculous, rare occasion.

The joy of the moment is somewhat spoiled by Mac's ongoing pout fest because she'd rather be at a friend's (also put on, Ryan keeps insisting to me, for Luke's benefit) and Luke's determination not to be spotted with his wierdo parents. Sam is, as usual, following them around like a puppy.

Still, Deb really wants to see this movie, Pat is chattering away into her ear, and Ryan's wearing a pair of blue sneakers - always enough to put a smile on my face. They aren't *the* blue shoes, of course, but they're close enough to make me grin.

"See, Col? The kids are doing it again," he hisses, indicating with his head the row in fron of us, a few seats over, where his daughter is whispering something at my son as she tosses her hair. It's something snarky and entirely to my detriment, if the half-embarrassed, half-defiant look Luke sends me is any indication. "He's practically vibrating with teenage lust."

"I think you're just overly paranoid about your daughter," I tease. "And if anyone's flirting there, it's Mac."

He looks offended, then drops the unconvincing expression. "I know. She's had a crush on him since she was eight."

I accept his admission gracefully. "I was waiting for you to notice."

"Think they'll date?"

I wince at the question. "That would be awful. Can you imagine the breakup drama?"

"Who says they have to break up? They could grow up, get married..." Ryan trails off, almost wistfully, and I shoot him a confused glance, turning away from the kids.

He leans over after checking to make sure our wives aren't paying attention. "They remind me of...of us, a little."

That stuns me momentarily. We've avoided talking about this for twenty years, twenty long years of silence and longing when I've lain awake at night and stared at my wife wishing she were someone else...twenty years, and now, in a goddamn movie theater, he wants to talk about it?

"Ryan..."

He shakes his head and resumes a conversational tone. "Want some M&Ms?"

He's reaching into his pocket before I can answer, and the shift in position pushes his left thing against my right knee. We both freeze, the sudden warm contact a shock. He recovers first, pulling back and proferring the bag of chocolate. On autopilot, I stick out a hand, and he tips some M&Ms into it.

Automatically, I avoid the blue ones, still refusing to think, and force a few words from my lips. "M- maybe you're right."

Ryan steals a nervous glance at me - yes, Ry, I'm speaking metaphorically. "She brings him out of his shell, you know? He needs that, sometimes."

"She can be a bit overbearing, though."

"He doesn't mind," I admit softly, "and neither do I."

Ryan's eyes go narrow like they do onstage when he knows his suggestion is going to get him into trouble, and the M&Ms bag clatters to the floor.

He stumbles to his feet, appearing awkward and gawky like he's never really been, and mutters an excuse to Pat as he squeezes by her to the aisle. I feel vaguely sick, watching him go. I might've pushed too far, this time.

The previews are starting, he still hasn't come back, and Pat leans across Deb worriedly. "Colin, would you go check on Ryan?"

I nod and scramble out of the row of seats, noting Luke's humiliation at my presence with vague amusement. And I might be crazy, but I think he's holding Mac's hand.

Halfway to the bathroom I notice I'm still clutching half a dozen blue M&Ms in one palm and snort a little at myself. Without even knowing it, I've been saving Ryan's favorite chocolates for him, like I always do.

I drop them in the trashcan as I enter the bathroom and realize I'm going to be stained blue for awhile. Won't melt in your hand, my ass.

Ryan isn't in the bathroom, so I head through the lobby towards the parking lot. Sure enough, he's leaning against the outside wall of the theater, lit cigarettte in hand.

He doesn't acknowledge my presence, but he knows I'm here; I see it in the way his shoulders tense and his eyes close for a moment.

"Pat's worried," I tell him, not sure what else to say.

"I just needed a smoke." He takes a deep drag to illustrate.

"Sure," I say, because what are best friends for if they won't let you get away with a social lie occasionally?

Oh, yeah. That.

"You okay?" I ask, knowing it's not the real question but far from knowing how to broach what I need to say. My breath freezes in the cold night air, and I watch as it blends with his smoke. You almost can't tell when my fog vanishes, leaving only tobacco and nicotine behind.

"Yeah."

"Bullshit," I say, and he smiles, a little.

"I haven't been okay in a long time, Colin. I'm not going to start now."

"Why the hell not? Jesus, Ry, we walked away and you got what you wanted. Where's the problem?" I'm angry and that's not fair to him, but of all the times to bring this up...

"Maybe...maybe I just had no idea what I wanted." He isn't meeting my eyes anymore, and I sigh, remembering all too clearly. He's probably right; neither of us understood what was going on, all those years ago. But, dammit, I'd wanted to try and he'd...

"You made it pretty clear to me, Ryan."

"Yeah, well, I was scared."

"So, what? You want to take it back? A little late, don't you think?"

Ryan shakes his head, slowly. "I love my kids, Colin. I really do. I wouldn't trade them for anything."

His voice is shaking, so I say it. "Who are you trying to convince, Ryan?"

He turns away from me, dropping his cigarette onto the ground. "I-"

"Nevermind. That was uncalled for." I take a deep, slow breath. Time to be the mature one...again. "You're thinking about what might have been. It's not like I haven't, too. But what happened, happened. We made our choices and they're done. So let's go back inside and watch this movie, okay?"

The words hurt, like nothing else has, because I know as well as Ryan does that we would both change everything, if we could.

But before I've got my composure back entirely he turns and pulls me close to him in a rough hug. Nothing sweet about it, just his arms pressing me against his body and his face in my shoulder as he says my name.

I want to pull away but God, I need this too, the strength of his body against mine and the feel of his lips against my neck, moving slowly, forming my name again and again and I'm shaking, because it could have been like this forever, should have been this -

I turn my head and kiss him before I know I've done it.

I always wanted to kiss Ryan offstage, always wanted to know how he'd feel if we were doing it for more than just laughs, and God help me but I don't think I'll ever stop.

I press one hand to his cheek, grasping his waist with my other and keeping him here, locked to my side. We fit, dammit, and that should have told us something.

I can't stop myself from sliding my tongue against his lips, and he opens to me, entwining us together and killing me because it's all I ever wanted it to be. Ryan's mouth tastes like tobacco and refined chocolate, or maybe that's me.

There's going to be a bruise on my hip where he's clutching me. Hell, I think his fingerprints are going to be written there, carved into my flesh for my wife to see.

He's the one who breaks the kiss, slowly.

"Colin," he says again, and I'm trembling. "Colin." It's a groan.

"I'm walking away now," I tell him, but I don't. I can't.

There's a smudge of blue on his cheek, dye and sugar from my palm and I try to wipe it away, but it won't go. His lips, centimeters from my fingers, are kiss-swollen and more than a little chapped from the cold. My hand drifts and I'm gently tracing them, tracing the moment, burning this into my memory.

"I'm walking away now," he repeats, breath warm on my fingers, and we break apart.

"We have to forget it, Ryan. It's the past."

He nods. "Forget it. Right."

The bitterness in his voice is cutting. No way in hell to forget this, no point in even trying.

"Come on," I say roughly, and he follows me back into the theater. I can still feel his hand on my hip, and that trace of blue is still marking his cheek.

I gave him the blue ones after all, I think, and that's how crazy I am, thinking about saving candy for Ryan when I've just kissed him.

"I love you," he says as we enter the warmth and light of the lobby, and I glance back at him, just long enough to mouth the words, too.

~Fin.