What d'you know, American Idol still makes me commit ficlets
Brother2 sent me this interview with the subject line 'The Most Tragic Love Story Of Our Time'. Unrelatedly, Ryan has a new hairstyle. I wrote this while watching the performance show today. No spoilers for performances.
Don't look at it like it's forever; [Ryan/Simon PG, no warnings, 450 words]
“You got your hair cut.”
“I did.” Ryan doesn’t seem especially perturbed by Simon’s opening gambit. They’ve been doing this for nearly ten years and this is far from the strangest opening to one of their telephone calls.
Simon says, “I’m not sure that I like it.”
“The style itself, or the fact that I did it without consulting you?”
“Mostly the second one,” Simon admits.
Ryan laughs. “Well, you weren’t here. Not that I felt the need to ask your permission anyway, but you were in London at the time. So your argument is more than usually weird.”
He’s still in London now, though LA beckons again tomorrow. More meetings, and yet more publicity. Flying from continent to continent overseeing two simultaneous audition and production set-ups, followed almost immediately by two separate weekly shows, had seemed like a good idea when he agreed to it. Cross promotion, cross publicity, prime slots on channels in two countries. These are the things a man like him thrives on.
Ryan says, “Simon?”
“Yes.”
“You drifted off there. You have somewhere to be?”
“It’s very all-American.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The hair.”
This time the laughter is definitely at Simon. “Well I am all American,” Ryan points out. And there’s a hint of innuendo, just buried there.
Simon nods, conceding the point, and says, “I know,” because Ryan can’t see him. Misses, briefly but powerfully, how they made a career of communicating in a raised eyebrow or the brush of Ryan’s fingers on Simon’s back when he threw them to commercial. Misses the ridiculous highlighted spikes of Ryan’s hair in the early days, and the swept back look and the artfully mussed one and nearly ten years of promotional pictures and Perez and gossip columns and paparazzi flashes while Ryan put his hands on Simon’s shoulders and pulled faces for the camera. Ryan had looked different tonight and that, of all the ridiculous things, is what made Simon notice finally that things have changed.
But they are not on the radio right now, so Simon cannot say ‘Ryan’s still got two years left on his contract’ and ‘I can’t really help for the moment’ and know that Ryan will let the thing be. He can’t say ‘be patient’ and know which one of them he’s talking to. So what he says is, “Maybe it’ll grow on me.”
“The hair?” Ryan checks.
“The hair, yes.” What else but the hair?
“All right,” Ryan says. “Well if it doesn’t, you can always come and visit. Muss it up a little.”
It’s not much of a promise but Simon nods again, thinking of pushing Ryan back into familiar shapes. He hmms noncommittal agreement down the line and Ryan laughs some more and it’s a promise, nonetheless.
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth: http://blackeyedgirl.dreamwidth.org/146021.html |
comments. Please comment there using OpenID or signed anon.
Don't look at it like it's forever; [Ryan/Simon PG, no warnings, 450 words]
“You got your hair cut.”
“I did.” Ryan doesn’t seem especially perturbed by Simon’s opening gambit. They’ve been doing this for nearly ten years and this is far from the strangest opening to one of their telephone calls.
Simon says, “I’m not sure that I like it.”
“The style itself, or the fact that I did it without consulting you?”
“Mostly the second one,” Simon admits.
Ryan laughs. “Well, you weren’t here. Not that I felt the need to ask your permission anyway, but you were in London at the time. So your argument is more than usually weird.”
He’s still in London now, though LA beckons again tomorrow. More meetings, and yet more publicity. Flying from continent to continent overseeing two simultaneous audition and production set-ups, followed almost immediately by two separate weekly shows, had seemed like a good idea when he agreed to it. Cross promotion, cross publicity, prime slots on channels in two countries. These are the things a man like him thrives on.
Ryan says, “Simon?”
“Yes.”
“You drifted off there. You have somewhere to be?”
“It’s very all-American.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The hair.”
This time the laughter is definitely at Simon. “Well I am all American,” Ryan points out. And there’s a hint of innuendo, just buried there.
Simon nods, conceding the point, and says, “I know,” because Ryan can’t see him. Misses, briefly but powerfully, how they made a career of communicating in a raised eyebrow or the brush of Ryan’s fingers on Simon’s back when he threw them to commercial. Misses the ridiculous highlighted spikes of Ryan’s hair in the early days, and the swept back look and the artfully mussed one and nearly ten years of promotional pictures and Perez and gossip columns and paparazzi flashes while Ryan put his hands on Simon’s shoulders and pulled faces for the camera. Ryan had looked different tonight and that, of all the ridiculous things, is what made Simon notice finally that things have changed.
But they are not on the radio right now, so Simon cannot say ‘Ryan’s still got two years left on his contract’ and ‘I can’t really help for the moment’ and know that Ryan will let the thing be. He can’t say ‘be patient’ and know which one of them he’s talking to. So what he says is, “Maybe it’ll grow on me.”
“The hair?” Ryan checks.
“The hair, yes.” What else but the hair?
“All right,” Ryan says. “Well if it doesn’t, you can always come and visit. Muss it up a little.”
It’s not much of a promise but Simon nods again, thinking of pushing Ryan back into familiar shapes. He hmms noncommittal agreement down the line and Ryan laughs some more and it’s a promise, nonetheless.
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth: http://blackeyedgirl.dreamwidth.org/146021.html |
comments. Please comment there using OpenID or signed anon.