fic: A Midwinter Visit
Happy birthday, egelantier! I think you are pretty darn fabulous, and I wrote you a ficletty thing. I hope you like it! <333
A Midwinter Visit
Jon/Ryan
PG
1572 words
Coda to The Bluebird Boy. But if you have not read that, merely know this: Ryan Ross is a bird whisperer. With fairy connections.
I am incredibly grateful to nova33 for betaing this at incredibly short notice and being generally awesome.
Happily ever after doesn't mean adventures stop happening.
After Ryan and Jon settled down in their new cottage next to Jon's stepbrothers, life was normal for a while.
Normal was good. Normal meant that Jon could come home and find Ryan sitting on the kitchen table and singing, eyes closed, back propped against the wall. Normal was something they hadn't had much of.
That Ryan had a peculiar relationship with birds was not so much a sudden epiphany, as it was a gradual revelation.
Jon would come home and find birds flying around the kitchen and Ryan flapping a towel at them irritably. The first couple of times he hadn't thought it was odd, until it happened again and again and again. Then he'd asked, "What's going on?" and Ryan had turned blankly to him and given a little frown.
"I thought it was just, like, a thing birds did," Jon said, holding up his hands defensively. I thought it was just a thing you did, he thought but didn't say, because he didn't want to sound bitter when he wasn't. Jon had long accepted that there were dimensions to Ryan's universe that he couldn't -- and didn't have to -- know of.
"It is apparently a thing birds do," Ryan said irritably, as the bluebirds chirped excitedly and swooped around his head and over his shoulders. "I just don't know why."
Try as Ryan might, Jon knew that sometimes Ryan missed the forest, missed not being able to talk with animals freely. However, he didn't think there was anything urgent the birds needed Ryan to know. They just seemed pretty happy flying around the room and making a nuisance of themselves.
Jon moved to Ryan's side and put an arm around him. Ryan turned to look at him and buried his face in Jon's neck. Standing hip to hip like that, they watched the birds flying around them.
---
It was winter before something really happened.
That morning was too cold to do much of anything. Ryan was sitting at the window-seat, breathing on the glass and making patterns in it, and Jon was trying to get him to come back to bed. He moaned pitifully, stretching his arms out to Ryan. The bed was so warm. Why would anyone choose to leave it?
Ryan turned to Jon and said, "Look, I've made a foot in the mist of the glass!" and his eyes were bright. Jon could tell that he wasn't coming back to bed.
Jon decided that it would be a good idea, too, to get out of bed and make some stew for the both of them.
As they entered the kitchen there was a bird at the window. It tapped weakly at the glass with its beak. Ryan sighed, but crossed the room and lifted the latch to let it in.
Jon didn't hear Ryan's sharp intake of breath, but he heard Ryan say, “Oh, Jon - ” and then he didn’t need to hear any more of what Ryan was saying, because there he was, coming across the kitchen and cupping a small bird in his hands.
It was a young house sparrow, brown and white with black markings on. It lay in Ryan’s hands too weak to do more than flap its wings feebly. Jon didn’t know enough about birds to do anything more than feel scared and helpless, but from the way its foot stuck out, twisted to the side, he could tell that it was very badly injured.
“It’s fractured,” Ryan said, his brow furrowed. He set it gently on the kitchen table. “Her leg is, I mean.”
“Do you know how to repair it?” Jon asked.
“We need a splint,” Ryan said, squinting at the bird. “Some tape, some cloth.”
Jon went off to get whatever Ryan needed, and stood by his side, trying to look and trying not to get in the way, as Ryan worked on the bird with the utmost concentration and patience, the candle- and fire-light of the kitchen glinting on the ends of his hair.
---
They named her Jenny.
Or rather, Ryan did. He woke up ridiculously early the next morning to tend to the bird and when Jon rose and entered the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes, he straightened up and said, “Jenny’s looking much better,” and Jon was delighted before he thought to ask who Jenny was, and by then it was kind of obvious.
“You named her Jenny?” Jon said.
“No,” Ryan replied, “Her name’s Jenny.”
For all that Ryan claimed to not be able to speak to birds, sometimes he came up with outlandish not-claims like this that threw Jon a little. “O-kay,” Jon said, eyeing Ryan suspiciously.
Ryan manifestly did not sulk. He merely flitted off to another part of the cottage.
---
Jenny recovered well. Within two weeks she was up on her feet again, chirping merrily around the kitchen - that was, when she wasn't swooping around the kitchen, batting affectionately at Jon’s head with her wings and giving shrill peep noises to Ryan. Much to Ryan’s annoyance, Jon had started calling Jenny “Janice”.
“It’s more dignified!” Jon protested.
“Jenny is her actual name,” Ryan explained.
“Janice, Janice, Janice!” Jon called, bit of bread in his hand, and Jenny/Janice flew to him and pecked at the bread out of his hand. Jon turned to Ryan and smiled smugly.
“See? She likes Janice, too.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
---
It had been deep winter when they found Jenny at their window. It continued to be deep winter even after Jenny recovered, and they never could quite find the heart to release Jenny into the cold and the snow.
---
Jenny didn’t seem to object either. This worried Ryan slightly. “Birds should want to be free,” he explained earnestly to Jon, and Jon had about five seconds to wonder what that meant for Ryan before Ryan continued, “While men long to be tied down,” and it would have been exactly the sort of thing Jon would mock Ryan for, except he didn’t, because he was kissing him too hard.
Nevertheless, she seemed happy, flying around the various rooms in the house and never leaving messes in inconsiderate places. Sometimes she went out to the garden but never stayed there for more than twenty minutes, as it was still very cold, always flying back to perch on someone’s shoulder or head.
Jon and Ryan both agreed that this was the tamest wild bird they had ever met.
---
Soon enough, spring came. April dawned on them when they least expected it, the snowdrops pushing their heads out of the soil like they did every year; a surprise every time.
Jon had noticed for some time that it had been - if not actively getting warmer - becoming less cold for some days. These days when he went out to work he brought his coat still, but left it off unless it abruptly became very cold, or there was a sudden draught of wind.
It was on one of Ryan and Jon’s ventures outside that Jenny flew away. She was perched on Ryan’s shoulder, Jon knew that much, and when they went out it suddenly smelt like spring, for the first time in a very long time. Jenny took to the air and flown away, before fluttering back, and flying away again, a longer distance this time, before flying back again.
Ryan and Jon looked at each other.
Jon made little shooing motions at her. Jenny hovered uncertainly in front of him, a few inches from his face. Ryan rolled his eyes and reached out for her, and she rested in his hands, quiescent and still.
Ryan made a sudden motion and flung her from both his cupped hands. This time Jenny seemed to understand and, instead of starting to fall, like Jon had feared she would do for one irrational second, she flew. She turned around just once and chirped happily, before disappearing into the treetops that made up the encroaching forest.
Ryan sighed. Jon reached out for Ryan’s gloved hand. Neither of them was willing to move for a little while.
---
The next winter Jenny returned.
They were alerted to this by the tap of her beak against the window. She was still Jenny; plumper and bigger but still noticeably her, and she had a small scroll tied to her foot. She stuck it out and fluttered her wings impatiently as Ryan fumbled with getting the string untied.
“What’s it say?” Jon asked, crowding his chin on Ryan’s shoulder and putting his arms around Ryan’s waist.
Ryan unscrolled the piece of paper.
MANY THANKS FROM LORD PETER, it said, in an oddly formal yet frenetic hand.
“Well, that’s cool,” Jon said, rather nonplussed. He wondered if all the creatures of the forest were under Lord Peter’s thrall and protection. Ryan merely smiled and turned the paper over. You’re rather welcome, he wrote on the other side, before attaching the paper once more to Jenny’s other foot. She pecked them both affectionately before flying away again.
“Do come back to visit, we don’t mind!” Ryan called, as she flew away without giving any indication whatsoever that she had heard him.
Ryan turned around to find Jon gazing at him skeptically, his eyebrow raised. “He's rather welcome?” Jon asked.
“Yes,” said Ryan stubbornly and without beginning to smile, “Rather.”
“Wouldn’t you rather?”
“Rather,” Ryan agreed meaninglessly, and kissed Jon lightly.
A Midwinter Visit
Jon/Ryan
PG
1572 words
Coda to The Bluebird Boy. But if you have not read that, merely know this: Ryan Ross is a bird whisperer. With fairy connections.
I am incredibly grateful to nova33 for betaing this at incredibly short notice and being generally awesome.
Happily ever after doesn't mean adventures stop happening.
After Ryan and Jon settled down in their new cottage next to Jon's stepbrothers, life was normal for a while.
Normal was good. Normal meant that Jon could come home and find Ryan sitting on the kitchen table and singing, eyes closed, back propped against the wall. Normal was something they hadn't had much of.
That Ryan had a peculiar relationship with birds was not so much a sudden epiphany, as it was a gradual revelation.
Jon would come home and find birds flying around the kitchen and Ryan flapping a towel at them irritably. The first couple of times he hadn't thought it was odd, until it happened again and again and again. Then he'd asked, "What's going on?" and Ryan had turned blankly to him and given a little frown.
"I thought it was just, like, a thing birds did," Jon said, holding up his hands defensively. I thought it was just a thing you did, he thought but didn't say, because he didn't want to sound bitter when he wasn't. Jon had long accepted that there were dimensions to Ryan's universe that he couldn't -- and didn't have to -- know of.
"It is apparently a thing birds do," Ryan said irritably, as the bluebirds chirped excitedly and swooped around his head and over his shoulders. "I just don't know why."
Try as Ryan might, Jon knew that sometimes Ryan missed the forest, missed not being able to talk with animals freely. However, he didn't think there was anything urgent the birds needed Ryan to know. They just seemed pretty happy flying around the room and making a nuisance of themselves.
Jon moved to Ryan's side and put an arm around him. Ryan turned to look at him and buried his face in Jon's neck. Standing hip to hip like that, they watched the birds flying around them.
---
It was winter before something really happened.
That morning was too cold to do much of anything. Ryan was sitting at the window-seat, breathing on the glass and making patterns in it, and Jon was trying to get him to come back to bed. He moaned pitifully, stretching his arms out to Ryan. The bed was so warm. Why would anyone choose to leave it?
Ryan turned to Jon and said, "Look, I've made a foot in the mist of the glass!" and his eyes were bright. Jon could tell that he wasn't coming back to bed.
Jon decided that it would be a good idea, too, to get out of bed and make some stew for the both of them.
As they entered the kitchen there was a bird at the window. It tapped weakly at the glass with its beak. Ryan sighed, but crossed the room and lifted the latch to let it in.
Jon didn't hear Ryan's sharp intake of breath, but he heard Ryan say, “Oh, Jon - ” and then he didn’t need to hear any more of what Ryan was saying, because there he was, coming across the kitchen and cupping a small bird in his hands.
It was a young house sparrow, brown and white with black markings on. It lay in Ryan’s hands too weak to do more than flap its wings feebly. Jon didn’t know enough about birds to do anything more than feel scared and helpless, but from the way its foot stuck out, twisted to the side, he could tell that it was very badly injured.
“It’s fractured,” Ryan said, his brow furrowed. He set it gently on the kitchen table. “Her leg is, I mean.”
“Do you know how to repair it?” Jon asked.
“We need a splint,” Ryan said, squinting at the bird. “Some tape, some cloth.”
Jon went off to get whatever Ryan needed, and stood by his side, trying to look and trying not to get in the way, as Ryan worked on the bird with the utmost concentration and patience, the candle- and fire-light of the kitchen glinting on the ends of his hair.
---
They named her Jenny.
Or rather, Ryan did. He woke up ridiculously early the next morning to tend to the bird and when Jon rose and entered the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes, he straightened up and said, “Jenny’s looking much better,” and Jon was delighted before he thought to ask who Jenny was, and by then it was kind of obvious.
“You named her Jenny?” Jon said.
“No,” Ryan replied, “Her name’s Jenny.”
For all that Ryan claimed to not be able to speak to birds, sometimes he came up with outlandish not-claims like this that threw Jon a little. “O-kay,” Jon said, eyeing Ryan suspiciously.
Ryan manifestly did not sulk. He merely flitted off to another part of the cottage.
---
Jenny recovered well. Within two weeks she was up on her feet again, chirping merrily around the kitchen - that was, when she wasn't swooping around the kitchen, batting affectionately at Jon’s head with her wings and giving shrill peep noises to Ryan. Much to Ryan’s annoyance, Jon had started calling Jenny “Janice”.
“It’s more dignified!” Jon protested.
“Jenny is her actual name,” Ryan explained.
“Janice, Janice, Janice!” Jon called, bit of bread in his hand, and Jenny/Janice flew to him and pecked at the bread out of his hand. Jon turned to Ryan and smiled smugly.
“See? She likes Janice, too.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
---
It had been deep winter when they found Jenny at their window. It continued to be deep winter even after Jenny recovered, and they never could quite find the heart to release Jenny into the cold and the snow.
---
Jenny didn’t seem to object either. This worried Ryan slightly. “Birds should want to be free,” he explained earnestly to Jon, and Jon had about five seconds to wonder what that meant for Ryan before Ryan continued, “While men long to be tied down,” and it would have been exactly the sort of thing Jon would mock Ryan for, except he didn’t, because he was kissing him too hard.
Nevertheless, she seemed happy, flying around the various rooms in the house and never leaving messes in inconsiderate places. Sometimes she went out to the garden but never stayed there for more than twenty minutes, as it was still very cold, always flying back to perch on someone’s shoulder or head.
Jon and Ryan both agreed that this was the tamest wild bird they had ever met.
---
Soon enough, spring came. April dawned on them when they least expected it, the snowdrops pushing their heads out of the soil like they did every year; a surprise every time.
Jon had noticed for some time that it had been - if not actively getting warmer - becoming less cold for some days. These days when he went out to work he brought his coat still, but left it off unless it abruptly became very cold, or there was a sudden draught of wind.
It was on one of Ryan and Jon’s ventures outside that Jenny flew away. She was perched on Ryan’s shoulder, Jon knew that much, and when they went out it suddenly smelt like spring, for the first time in a very long time. Jenny took to the air and flown away, before fluttering back, and flying away again, a longer distance this time, before flying back again.
Ryan and Jon looked at each other.
Jon made little shooing motions at her. Jenny hovered uncertainly in front of him, a few inches from his face. Ryan rolled his eyes and reached out for her, and she rested in his hands, quiescent and still.
Ryan made a sudden motion and flung her from both his cupped hands. This time Jenny seemed to understand and, instead of starting to fall, like Jon had feared she would do for one irrational second, she flew. She turned around just once and chirped happily, before disappearing into the treetops that made up the encroaching forest.
Ryan sighed. Jon reached out for Ryan’s gloved hand. Neither of them was willing to move for a little while.
---
The next winter Jenny returned.
They were alerted to this by the tap of her beak against the window. She was still Jenny; plumper and bigger but still noticeably her, and she had a small scroll tied to her foot. She stuck it out and fluttered her wings impatiently as Ryan fumbled with getting the string untied.
“What’s it say?” Jon asked, crowding his chin on Ryan’s shoulder and putting his arms around Ryan’s waist.
Ryan unscrolled the piece of paper.
MANY THANKS FROM LORD PETER, it said, in an oddly formal yet frenetic hand.
“Well, that’s cool,” Jon said, rather nonplussed. He wondered if all the creatures of the forest were under Lord Peter’s thrall and protection. Ryan merely smiled and turned the paper over. You’re rather welcome, he wrote on the other side, before attaching the paper once more to Jenny’s other foot. She pecked them both affectionately before flying away again.
“Do come back to visit, we don’t mind!” Ryan called, as she flew away without giving any indication whatsoever that she had heard him.
Ryan turned around to find Jon gazing at him skeptically, his eyebrow raised. “He's rather welcome?” Jon asked.
“Yes,” said Ryan stubbornly and without beginning to smile, “Rather.”
“Wouldn’t you rather?”
“Rather,” Ryan agreed meaninglessly, and kissed Jon lightly.