Ficlet: Praxis (Ryan/Colin, PG)
Jan. 5th, 2006 07:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kalimyre.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
wl_fanfictionPraxis
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kalimyre
Pairing: Ryan/Colin (because it's tradition, isn't it?)
Rating: PG. Barely.
Summary: He'll do anything for a laugh, even if he's not laughing.
Notes: First new story in the fandom in something like three years. I've been lured back in. Damn Colin for being so endearing anyway. ^_^
~~~
By now, it’s tradition.
“You started,” Colin says, speaking out of the side of his mouth. He knows without looking that Ryan checks his watch, marking when the game began. They always do this, the good natured barbs that carry the slightest edge of not-really-playing. He’s bald, Ryan’s skinny. His head, Ryan’s nose. His age, Ryan’s shoes. It’s familiar territory, and yeah, it gets old, but he’s learned to let it roll off his back. It’s Ryan, after all. It would be different if it were anyone else.
He can feel the next shot coming before Ryan even opens his mouth, just by the half-catch of laughter as he draws a breath. He nods, smiling, playing, because he’ll do anything for a laugh, even when he’s not laughing. And it’s fine, really. It’s Ryan, and they’ll tease and then make up, a not-real reconciliation for a not-real fight.
After the game, he makes a remark about how it’s fine for Ryan to tease him, but everyone acts like it’s terrible if he makes just one big nose joke. The audience laughs, and Ryan does too, but his hand lands on Colin’s shoulder, warm and gentle, and he dips his head a little, offering a half-shrug. An apology, or as close as he gets to one. It’s alright. Colin understands.
Later that night Colin takes the reins, makes fun of his own shiny scalp, and Ryan makes fun of his own shoes in return, and they’re even again. They never let it go too far, never let it get mean.
Well. Almost never.
Sometimes, yes, it crosses the line. The other guys pick up on it then, a little tension, an edge to the joking, but Colin and Ryan are very good at what they do, and they never let it kill the humor. Even the occasional word of anger is delivered in the right tone, with the right smile, and if that smile doesn’t quite look real, it’s close enough.
They make up after the show when it gets like that, when the fight is real enough to need mending, and by now, that’s tradition too.
Colin goes to Ryan’s dressing room, watching his feet walk down the hall. Half-angry because he has to make the first move, but not really, because that’s his role in this and he knows it. It’s as much a running joke between them as him always being the woman on stage, and like that, it doesn’t bother him anymore. Ryan will make it up to him. He always does.
He knocks, and Ryan opens the door, and they look at each other for a moment. Colin catches himself about to smile and bites it back, because that’s part of it. He who smiles first is lost. And of course, it’s Ryan, because he can never hold it back, not when Colin looks at him that way, with that laugh in his eyes. Ryan grins, and shakes his head, and steps back, letting Colin in.
“Hey,” Colin says. “Good show tonight.”
“Yeah.” Ryan slides him a careful look, from the corner of his eye, and pulls his shirt over his head, reaching for the clean one slung over the back of the couch. Colin catches his bottom lip between his teeth to trap another smile. Ryan always tries that trick, to distract him. Sometimes it even works.
“So.” Colin drops onto Ryan’s couch, props his feet up on the small coffee table, and laces his fingers behind his head.
“So,” Ryan replies evenly. He sits on the table, and one hand rests lightly on Colin’s ankle. Ryan’s fingers curl around, just beneath the cuff of Colin’s pant leg, the promise of something more.
Colin brings one hand to his mouth and bites his thumbnail, then leaves the hand there, fingertips on his lips. Ryan’s eyes track the movement until he catches himself, and then he’s a study in disinterest, looking at some point over Colin’s shoulder. Colin smiles. He’s winning already.
“Got kinda slow toward the middle,” Ryan says, and that’s as close as he’ll get to what they’re really talking about, when the jokes got sharp and the laughs got brittle and things went a few notches past funny.
“Guess I was a little off,” Colin agrees, accepting his part of the responsibility. His own oblique apology, admitting he took it too far.
“Eh.” Ryan shrugs, and his hand squeezes a little on Colin’s ankle, long fingers reaching all the way around and almost tickling, almost caressing. Somewhere in between playful and real. “I missed a couple cues myself,” he says.
Colin nods, accepting the meaning behind the words. “We’re just out of practice. Been too long.” Colin slides his hand down to his shirt collar, stretching it slightly, trailing his fingers along his collarbone in what looks like an idle movement, but isn’t. Ryan watches him, and this time makes no effort to hide it.
“Yeah. It has.” And Ryan leans forward, his hand sliding up Colin’s leg an inch at a time. Colin meets his eyes and it’s a staring contest, unblinking as Ryan slowly moves closer until he’s straddling Colin on the couch, his knees to either side of Colin’s thighs. Still Colin keeps a perfectly blank face, as if Ryan isn’t in his lap, as if this is still casual conversation.
Ryan cracks first. That’s his part in this, just as it’s Colin’s part to make the first apologies. He ducks his head too late to hide a smile, and sighs, slipping his arms around Colin’s waist and holding him tight, his laughter blowing soft puffs of air into the hollow of Colin’s neck.
Colin lets the poker face go and laughs with him, then nips his ear, making him twitch and draw in a quick, sharp breath. Ryan pulls back enough to rest their foreheads together, dropping a brief kiss on Colin’s lips. Colin can feel Ryan’s eyelashes brush his cheek, but his own eyes are closed and he brings his hands up, running them over Ryan’s back.
“Missed you,” Colin says, and Ryan nods. He never says it back, but that’s okay. Colin knows. It’s Ryan, after all, and it’s tradition.
Later, when their clothes are strewn across the floor and Ryan is still breathing hard and Colin is half-dozing, feeling the sweat cool on his skin, Ryan will be the first to tell him he loves him. That’s always been enough. It’s Ryan, and it’s always the same, and Colin wouldn’t have it any other way.
~~~
Fin
By:
kalimyrePairing: Ryan/Colin (because it's tradition, isn't it?)
Rating: PG. Barely.
Summary: He'll do anything for a laugh, even if he's not laughing.
Notes: First new story in the fandom in something like three years. I've been lured back in. Damn Colin for being so endearing anyway. ^_^
~~~
By now, it’s tradition.
“You started,” Colin says, speaking out of the side of his mouth. He knows without looking that Ryan checks his watch, marking when the game began. They always do this, the good natured barbs that carry the slightest edge of not-really-playing. He’s bald, Ryan’s skinny. His head, Ryan’s nose. His age, Ryan’s shoes. It’s familiar territory, and yeah, it gets old, but he’s learned to let it roll off his back. It’s Ryan, after all. It would be different if it were anyone else.
He can feel the next shot coming before Ryan even opens his mouth, just by the half-catch of laughter as he draws a breath. He nods, smiling, playing, because he’ll do anything for a laugh, even when he’s not laughing. And it’s fine, really. It’s Ryan, and they’ll tease and then make up, a not-real reconciliation for a not-real fight.
After the game, he makes a remark about how it’s fine for Ryan to tease him, but everyone acts like it’s terrible if he makes just one big nose joke. The audience laughs, and Ryan does too, but his hand lands on Colin’s shoulder, warm and gentle, and he dips his head a little, offering a half-shrug. An apology, or as close as he gets to one. It’s alright. Colin understands.
Later that night Colin takes the reins, makes fun of his own shiny scalp, and Ryan makes fun of his own shoes in return, and they’re even again. They never let it go too far, never let it get mean.
Well. Almost never.
Sometimes, yes, it crosses the line. The other guys pick up on it then, a little tension, an edge to the joking, but Colin and Ryan are very good at what they do, and they never let it kill the humor. Even the occasional word of anger is delivered in the right tone, with the right smile, and if that smile doesn’t quite look real, it’s close enough.
They make up after the show when it gets like that, when the fight is real enough to need mending, and by now, that’s tradition too.
Colin goes to Ryan’s dressing room, watching his feet walk down the hall. Half-angry because he has to make the first move, but not really, because that’s his role in this and he knows it. It’s as much a running joke between them as him always being the woman on stage, and like that, it doesn’t bother him anymore. Ryan will make it up to him. He always does.
He knocks, and Ryan opens the door, and they look at each other for a moment. Colin catches himself about to smile and bites it back, because that’s part of it. He who smiles first is lost. And of course, it’s Ryan, because he can never hold it back, not when Colin looks at him that way, with that laugh in his eyes. Ryan grins, and shakes his head, and steps back, letting Colin in.
“Hey,” Colin says. “Good show tonight.”
“Yeah.” Ryan slides him a careful look, from the corner of his eye, and pulls his shirt over his head, reaching for the clean one slung over the back of the couch. Colin catches his bottom lip between his teeth to trap another smile. Ryan always tries that trick, to distract him. Sometimes it even works.
“So.” Colin drops onto Ryan’s couch, props his feet up on the small coffee table, and laces his fingers behind his head.
“So,” Ryan replies evenly. He sits on the table, and one hand rests lightly on Colin’s ankle. Ryan’s fingers curl around, just beneath the cuff of Colin’s pant leg, the promise of something more.
Colin brings one hand to his mouth and bites his thumbnail, then leaves the hand there, fingertips on his lips. Ryan’s eyes track the movement until he catches himself, and then he’s a study in disinterest, looking at some point over Colin’s shoulder. Colin smiles. He’s winning already.
“Got kinda slow toward the middle,” Ryan says, and that’s as close as he’ll get to what they’re really talking about, when the jokes got sharp and the laughs got brittle and things went a few notches past funny.
“Guess I was a little off,” Colin agrees, accepting his part of the responsibility. His own oblique apology, admitting he took it too far.
“Eh.” Ryan shrugs, and his hand squeezes a little on Colin’s ankle, long fingers reaching all the way around and almost tickling, almost caressing. Somewhere in between playful and real. “I missed a couple cues myself,” he says.
Colin nods, accepting the meaning behind the words. “We’re just out of practice. Been too long.” Colin slides his hand down to his shirt collar, stretching it slightly, trailing his fingers along his collarbone in what looks like an idle movement, but isn’t. Ryan watches him, and this time makes no effort to hide it.
“Yeah. It has.” And Ryan leans forward, his hand sliding up Colin’s leg an inch at a time. Colin meets his eyes and it’s a staring contest, unblinking as Ryan slowly moves closer until he’s straddling Colin on the couch, his knees to either side of Colin’s thighs. Still Colin keeps a perfectly blank face, as if Ryan isn’t in his lap, as if this is still casual conversation.
Ryan cracks first. That’s his part in this, just as it’s Colin’s part to make the first apologies. He ducks his head too late to hide a smile, and sighs, slipping his arms around Colin’s waist and holding him tight, his laughter blowing soft puffs of air into the hollow of Colin’s neck.
Colin lets the poker face go and laughs with him, then nips his ear, making him twitch and draw in a quick, sharp breath. Ryan pulls back enough to rest their foreheads together, dropping a brief kiss on Colin’s lips. Colin can feel Ryan’s eyelashes brush his cheek, but his own eyes are closed and he brings his hands up, running them over Ryan’s back.
“Missed you,” Colin says, and Ryan nods. He never says it back, but that’s okay. Colin knows. It’s Ryan, after all, and it’s tradition.
Later, when their clothes are strewn across the floor and Ryan is still breathing hard and Colin is half-dozing, feeling the sweat cool on his skin, Ryan will be the first to tell him he loves him. That’s always been enough. It’s Ryan, and it’s always the same, and Colin wouldn’t have it any other way.
~~~
Fin
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 04:01 pm (UTC)"He can feel the next shot coming before Ryan even opens his mouth, just by the half-catch of laughter as he draws a breath."..."He ducks his head too late to hide a smile, and sighs, slipping his arms around Colin’s waist and holding him tight, his laughter blowing soft puffs of air into the hollow of Colin’s neck."
I have found a new adoration for all types of Ryan's laughter. :) When thinking about it, Ryan does say a lot by his breathing, or his throath, and Colin more by his eyes. Or is that just me?
Anyway, I adored this fic. :) Their interaction is so subtle, filled with some habit, nuance and predictability that yet isn't boring or routine, no, they both seem to treasure it. I can only imagine what it must be to have a knowledge of eachother that spans over two decades, but if I need to imagine, I certainly hope that it can be this way :)
I'm squee-happy that you are back, alive, and writing :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 06:29 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for the kind words! Especially the bit about them treasuring their routine, because I didn't even know I was trying to get that across until you said it, but it's just perfect. Yay for squee-happies! I must admit, I've missed the guys.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 06:08 pm (UTC)YOU ARE OMGLYKWOAH.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 06:30 pm (UTC)(This is me assuming that OMGLYKWOAH is a good thing.)
Thank you!
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Date: 2006-01-05 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 03:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 10:09 pm (UTC)I've been waiting for someone to use that moment on the show for a fic for so long...you have no idea. This was SO perfect!
Welcome back! ^_^
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Date: 2006-01-05 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 02:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 11:50 pm (UTC)*dances*
no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 12:49 pm (UTC)I can definitely picture them having their own special routine, because you can see bits and pieces of it in the show if you look for it. I really do think they have their own little world.
Emily :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-06 02:36 pm (UTC)