AFA: Deleted scene!
Uh, so. This has been hanging out in my notebook since sometime back in July when I sat down to write Jon and Spencer shopping for baby things and instead ended up writing Ryan/Brendon schmoop. There was no way to fit it into A Family Affair with the way the scenes broke down (though, okay, I probably could have done it if I'd really tried, but whatever. Maybe I didn't want babyfic to go over 26,000 words). But I'm so awesome I decided to type it up to share it with y'all! :D
Takes place during the events of AFA, while Jon and Spencer are shopping but before The Cab crash Black Belinda. 878 words of Ryan/Brendon being all psychic and schmoopy together.
Brendon slips into the room he and Ryan share, setting a spoon and a jar of pickle on the nightstand before lying down and fitting himself up against Ryan's back, tucking his face in against Ryan's neck. "Hey," Brendon says softly. "Spencer said you aren't feeling well? Why didn't you say so earlier, idiot?"
Sighing, Ryan reaches back and grabs Brendon's hand, pulling him closer so that there's barely a breath of air between them. Brendon frowns against his neck. "...Ryan?" What is it?" he asks cautiously. Ryan knows Brendon's worried because normally when Ryan's in one of what the others have taken to calling his "pickle moods" he's prickly and grumpy and undeniably vocal in his complaints. Quiet and clingy, not so much.
Ryan smiles to himself and presses Brendon's hand to the swell of his belly. "Kicking," he says softly, voice hushed and amazed. Gallifreyans mature at a slightly different rate than humans, so they've actually been able to feel the baby kick and move about for ages now, but it still surprises Ryan every time. More and more often these days, he's reminded of when his mother was pregnant with Susie. Back then, Ryan was still adapting to life with the Smiths, to live in civilization, among humans, and the idea that Spencer and Stacey's mother - his mother - could grow another living thing inside herself seemed like magic. Still seems like magic. Ryan sighs happily, and he can feel Brendon smiling against his neck.
"Oh, so that's how it is, hm?" Brendon asks quietly, slipping his hand under Ryan's shirt to gently rub at taut skin, drawing a pleased noise out of Ryan. He likes just lying like this, just him and Brendon, pressed so close together that they're practically one person. Sometimes it really seems as if they actually are, particularly when Brendon lets go of all his barriers and their thoughts start to bleed together. Which reminds Ryan...
"Shh," Ryan says, lacing his fingers through Brendon's and spreading their hands flat on his belly. "Listen." Brendon starts to ask him mind-to-mind what he's listening for, bur Ryan just shushes him that way as well. Listen, Ryan instructs him silently, so Brendon does.
It takes a little while for Ryan to find it again because it's so quiet and Brendon's mind is loud and filled with chatter even when he's trying to be quiet. Eventually Brendon settles into a light, happy hum, however, and Ryan can pick it out, pick out from underneath it all the "sound" he heard earlier. A soft, curious babble that's mostly simple emotions - contentedness, vague satisfaction, warm happy safe good. Ryan cautiously reaches out, touching the babble, stroking it, encouraging it, cradling it with his mind, and the babble practically squeals with happiness-glee-delight. Tugging Brendon's consciousness forward, Ryan passes the babble to him so that Brendon's holding it too, sandwiching and snuggling the babble with pride and warmth and love, rocking it gently until alertness slips away and the movement under their joined hands settles and stills.
Several minutes pass before Brendon manages to find his voice again. "Is that- Was that-" he stutters, voice filled with awe.
"Our baby," Ryan confirms, squeezing Brendon's hand. "Not completely aware yet, but enough to think and feel and- and be."
"Wow. Can we hear it because we're, y'know, psychic? Or is it projecting its thoughts?"
"A little of both, I think," Ryan says. "The Doctor says that telepathy is something Gallifreyans learn, but I think it's a case of having the talent naturally and refining it to use it on command." Ryan knows Brendon's a stronger telepath than him, probably stronger than anyone Ryan knows, even the Doctor. He also knows that Brendon has no idea how strong he actually is, that Brendon's completely unaware of the fact that Bob Bryar is actually scared of him, he's so strong. "I think," Ryan says carefully, "that it's learning to project from you."
Brendon laughs. "I can't even control my own shields and reach half the time - what the hell could a baby learn from me about mental projection?"
"You sing to it," Ryan insists. "With both your voice and your mind. And it reacts, it recognizes you. When it can't find you, when you're not right there, right here, sometimes it goes looking for you," he explains. "At least, I think that's what it's doing. I can mostly keep it close, but I think it sometimes tries to reach into Spencer and the others, looking for you."
"Me?" Brendon squeaks, clearly surprised. "But - why me?"
"Has good taste," Ryan says happily, turning his head and kissing Brendon slowly. Ryan secretly suspects the baby has picked up on Ryan's own quiet amazement and fascination with all things Brendon and wants to know what all the fuss is about.
Brendon groans softly into Ryan's mouth, pulling his hand free of Ryan's and letting it slip lower, past the bulge of the baby. "So, Mr. Smith," he rumbles, nipping gently at Ryan's lips, "I hear we have a day all to ourselves while Spencer and Jon run errands for us."
"Ummm, yes," Ryan moans distractedly.
"I say we make the most of it," Brendon concludes, and Ryan is more than happy to agree with him.
Takes place during the events of AFA, while Jon and Spencer are shopping but before The Cab crash Black Belinda. 878 words of Ryan/Brendon being all psychic and schmoopy together.
Brendon slips into the room he and Ryan share, setting a spoon and a jar of pickle on the nightstand before lying down and fitting himself up against Ryan's back, tucking his face in against Ryan's neck. "Hey," Brendon says softly. "Spencer said you aren't feeling well? Why didn't you say so earlier, idiot?"
Sighing, Ryan reaches back and grabs Brendon's hand, pulling him closer so that there's barely a breath of air between them. Brendon frowns against his neck. "...Ryan?" What is it?" he asks cautiously. Ryan knows Brendon's worried because normally when Ryan's in one of what the others have taken to calling his "pickle moods" he's prickly and grumpy and undeniably vocal in his complaints. Quiet and clingy, not so much.
Ryan smiles to himself and presses Brendon's hand to the swell of his belly. "Kicking," he says softly, voice hushed and amazed. Gallifreyans mature at a slightly different rate than humans, so they've actually been able to feel the baby kick and move about for ages now, but it still surprises Ryan every time. More and more often these days, he's reminded of when his mother was pregnant with Susie. Back then, Ryan was still adapting to life with the Smiths, to live in civilization, among humans, and the idea that Spencer and Stacey's mother - his mother - could grow another living thing inside herself seemed like magic. Still seems like magic. Ryan sighs happily, and he can feel Brendon smiling against his neck.
"Oh, so that's how it is, hm?" Brendon asks quietly, slipping his hand under Ryan's shirt to gently rub at taut skin, drawing a pleased noise out of Ryan. He likes just lying like this, just him and Brendon, pressed so close together that they're practically one person. Sometimes it really seems as if they actually are, particularly when Brendon lets go of all his barriers and their thoughts start to bleed together. Which reminds Ryan...
"Shh," Ryan says, lacing his fingers through Brendon's and spreading their hands flat on his belly. "Listen." Brendon starts to ask him mind-to-mind what he's listening for, bur Ryan just shushes him that way as well. Listen, Ryan instructs him silently, so Brendon does.
It takes a little while for Ryan to find it again because it's so quiet and Brendon's mind is loud and filled with chatter even when he's trying to be quiet. Eventually Brendon settles into a light, happy hum, however, and Ryan can pick it out, pick out from underneath it all the "sound" he heard earlier. A soft, curious babble that's mostly simple emotions - contentedness, vague satisfaction, warm happy safe good. Ryan cautiously reaches out, touching the babble, stroking it, encouraging it, cradling it with his mind, and the babble practically squeals with happiness-glee-delight. Tugging Brendon's consciousness forward, Ryan passes the babble to him so that Brendon's holding it too, sandwiching and snuggling the babble with pride and warmth and love, rocking it gently until alertness slips away and the movement under their joined hands settles and stills.
Several minutes pass before Brendon manages to find his voice again. "Is that- Was that-" he stutters, voice filled with awe.
"Our baby," Ryan confirms, squeezing Brendon's hand. "Not completely aware yet, but enough to think and feel and- and be."
"Wow. Can we hear it because we're, y'know, psychic? Or is it projecting its thoughts?"
"A little of both, I think," Ryan says. "The Doctor says that telepathy is something Gallifreyans learn, but I think it's a case of having the talent naturally and refining it to use it on command." Ryan knows Brendon's a stronger telepath than him, probably stronger than anyone Ryan knows, even the Doctor. He also knows that Brendon has no idea how strong he actually is, that Brendon's completely unaware of the fact that Bob Bryar is actually scared of him, he's so strong. "I think," Ryan says carefully, "that it's learning to project from you."
Brendon laughs. "I can't even control my own shields and reach half the time - what the hell could a baby learn from me about mental projection?"
"You sing to it," Ryan insists. "With both your voice and your mind. And it reacts, it recognizes you. When it can't find you, when you're not right there, right here, sometimes it goes looking for you," he explains. "At least, I think that's what it's doing. I can mostly keep it close, but I think it sometimes tries to reach into Spencer and the others, looking for you."
"Me?" Brendon squeaks, clearly surprised. "But - why me?"
"Has good taste," Ryan says happily, turning his head and kissing Brendon slowly. Ryan secretly suspects the baby has picked up on Ryan's own quiet amazement and fascination with all things Brendon and wants to know what all the fuss is about.
Brendon groans softly into Ryan's mouth, pulling his hand free of Ryan's and letting it slip lower, past the bulge of the baby. "So, Mr. Smith," he rumbles, nipping gently at Ryan's lips, "I hear we have a day all to ourselves while Spencer and Jon run errands for us."
"Ummm, yes," Ryan moans distractedly.
"I say we make the most of it," Brendon concludes, and Ryan is more than happy to agree with him.