fic: six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver
six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver
High School Musical, Chad/Ryan, spoilers for HSM2 (PG-13)
1 180 words, with thanks to autoridade, my ever-present partner in crime.
notes: Secret Santa gift for fools_game. I'm sorry about the lack of Christmas in this; I tried. Happy New Year!
It's not very good, but the waiter has pretty eyes and that's all Ryan's asking, really.
Before Andrew, Ryan had never been in love. (He doesn’t think, anyway.)
He was the love of Ryan’s life -
No. No, not at all. For that, Ryan is still too young; it’s just that he didn’t know better at sixteen.
Andrew had been - well, keen, really. Horny is maybe a better word, Ryan knows; people are far more willing behind locked doors, especially if they also have a spot on the football team to keep.
Ryan would like to think that Andrew taught him something about caution.
He remembers being very angry -
Taylor, smiling like she had known something that he didn’t: ‘Ry-yan,’ she had sung, lips smirking all the way to English, ‘Who are you taking to the Christmas party?’
Ryan almost hid an eye roll. (Almost.) ‘You and Gabriella can’t make me bring one of your friends. That Sophia girl making eyes at me is not helping.’
Taylor backed him up against the wall. ‘I’ll take that as an insult.’
‘You will?’
She didn’t even bother trying to hide the roll of her eyes. ‘Honestly. I am not Troy.’ Ryan remembered, belatedly, that Taylor was attentive.
Taylor leaned in against him. ‘I seem to recall Andrew stumbling out of a classroom last week,’ she had murmured. (Always discreet, Taylor.)
‘Yes,’ Ryan whispered, lips all angry edges. ‘He’s an athlete. Willing to be open about his pre-game activities, do you think?’
Taylor had looked a little sad at that, too.
Summers are for regrets and things that should better go unnoticed (and what happens on a baseball diamond stays on a baseball diamond, someone told him once). Ryan has not been interested in athletes since. He thinks of it as some kind of accomplishment; his sister doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure how much she actually knows, but between her looks and the very, very unsubtle packs of Trojans she hides underneath his pillow Ryan doesn’t really want to tell her that Andrew’s hands had been interested, but not that interested.
He thinks he’s starting to get a little bitter.
A week before his last high school semester begins Ryan catches a pair of willing hands and an even more willing mouth in a restaurant, fingers tiptoeing over his back in rhythm with Auld Lang Syne. A bathroom stall sounds so clichéd, but he indulges in his own self-pity for a while and it’s slower than he expects.
It’s not very good, but the waiter has pretty eyes and that’s all Ryan’s asking, really.
He tells Taylor and Kelsi but not Sharpay, because he knows she’ll find out eventually anyway and he dreads the moment when she’ll tell him how common and vulgar sex with someone who hasn’t paid for your dinner is. (Ryan knows that this is her way of saying I love you, but sometimes he hates it more than he’d like to admit.)
Kelsi pats his shoulder and says that at least he didn’t charge you for your coffee and Ryan chokes on his lunch. Kelsi smiles, shyly.
Taylor wonders if he wants to talk and nods thoughtfully at every pause he makes. ‘I don’t think it’s supposed to be good,’ she murmurs and studies her hands.
Ryan snorts. ‘Probably not.’
She gets up to leave but pauses at the door. ‘I broke up with Chad.’ Her hand flexes twice and her shoulders tense for a second but there is no sadness in the way she looks at him.
Ryan drops his bag.
Taylor doesn’t really talk about Chad. Ryan doesn’t really ask.
He catches a glimpse of Taylor smiling for the first time in two weeks, Chad’s hair brushing her cheek. Ryan would have taken it for a date, except the hand on her thigh really doesn’t look like it’s ever seen a basketball.
Chad throws a glance in his direction and licks his lips.
Ryan turns away.
They all go out for lunch on a Saturday, and it’s one of those things that would have been enjoyable if they were five years older but now is exceptionally awkward for everyone but Gabriella and Troy, who spend half of the meal in each other’s laps. Ryan can’t bring himself to be even a little annoyed; instead, his eyes follow a pair of torn Chuck Taylors across the room.
Chad sips his water and puts his elbow to Ryan’s ribs. ‘No sex in public places, please.’
Ryan accidentally bites his tongue. ‘Excuse me?’
Chad smiles, barely. ‘He doesn’t look like your type anyway.’
‘What, male?’ (He sounds bitter, he knows.)
‘No, not that. Just -’ Chad takes a breath. ‘Just you being interested, is all.’
Ryan raises his eyebrows. ‘Really, dear,’ he says, and pitches his voice just so, ‘You have no idea.’
Chad stares down at his plate; Ryan doesn’t catch him mumbling I have a pretty good one, actually.
Taylor emails him two days later, and Ryan really should have learnt by now that nothing escapes her. I kind of liked David Ferrer last semester. Chad didn’t mind.
It looks a little cryptic, maybe; Ryan knows that it’s not.
He steals Taylor from Gabriella at lunch the next day. ‘Chad,’ he says, and makes very sure that her eyes are soft, ‘Is an athlete.’
Taylor squeezes his arm and nods. ‘But he’s not a football player.’
‘Um,’ Ryan mumbles and wonders if this is what permission means. He doesn’t really want to linger on the fact that he never asked for it.
Taylor looks at him, voice steady, and tells him that Chad would never fuck you in a public restroom.
It’s mostly her using the word ‘fuck’ that unsettles him.
Ryan puts it off for two weeks; Taylor gives him meaningful looks at least four times a day. In the end, it’s not even really up to him, because Chad blurts out I wasn’t sad about Taylor dumping me, you know in passing, like it’s unimportant.
Ryan just latches onto his arm and drags him into a corner. ‘I -’
‘Baseball,’ Chad interrupts and smirks, and Ryan badly wants to tell him about tact.
He studies his fingernails instead. ‘You’re pretty annoying sometimes.’
Chad just wiggles his eyebrows.
They don’t really talk about it, but Ryan thinks it’s maybe unnecessary now that he’s become fairly intimately acquainted with Chad’s bed. It’s a lot like love, except they’re graduating in four months, so it’s probably not -
apart from the times when he thinks that it’s better like this, quieter.
Ryan doesn’t think they’ll ever become Ryan and Chad, the way that Troy and Gabriella are Troy and Gabriella, because there used to be a Chad and Taylor and he doesn’t really want to go there. He drums his fingertips against Chad’s knee and leans back, into the living room sofa; leather protesting loudly against his jeans. ‘I loved a boy, once,’ he says, without even really thinking.
Chad grins and kicks his foot against Ryan’s. ‘Did he have awesome hair and an even more awesome dribble?’
Ryan kicks back. ‘He did not.’
fin.
High School Musical, Chad/Ryan, spoilers for HSM2 (PG-13)
1 180 words, with thanks to autoridade, my ever-present partner in crime.
notes: Secret Santa gift for fools_game. I'm sorry about the lack of Christmas in this; I tried. Happy New Year!
It's not very good, but the waiter has pretty eyes and that's all Ryan's asking, really.
Before Andrew, Ryan had never been in love. (He doesn’t think, anyway.)
He was the love of Ryan’s life -
No. No, not at all. For that, Ryan is still too young; it’s just that he didn’t know better at sixteen.
Andrew had been - well, keen, really. Horny is maybe a better word, Ryan knows; people are far more willing behind locked doors, especially if they also have a spot on the football team to keep.
Ryan would like to think that Andrew taught him something about caution.
He remembers being very angry -
Taylor, smiling like she had known something that he didn’t: ‘Ry-yan,’ she had sung, lips smirking all the way to English, ‘Who are you taking to the Christmas party?’
Ryan almost hid an eye roll. (Almost.) ‘You and Gabriella can’t make me bring one of your friends. That Sophia girl making eyes at me is not helping.’
Taylor backed him up against the wall. ‘I’ll take that as an insult.’
‘You will?’
She didn’t even bother trying to hide the roll of her eyes. ‘Honestly. I am not Troy.’ Ryan remembered, belatedly, that Taylor was attentive.
Taylor leaned in against him. ‘I seem to recall Andrew stumbling out of a classroom last week,’ she had murmured. (Always discreet, Taylor.)
‘Yes,’ Ryan whispered, lips all angry edges. ‘He’s an athlete. Willing to be open about his pre-game activities, do you think?’
Taylor had looked a little sad at that, too.
Summers are for regrets and things that should better go unnoticed (and what happens on a baseball diamond stays on a baseball diamond, someone told him once). Ryan has not been interested in athletes since. He thinks of it as some kind of accomplishment; his sister doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure how much she actually knows, but between her looks and the very, very unsubtle packs of Trojans she hides underneath his pillow Ryan doesn’t really want to tell her that Andrew’s hands had been interested, but not that interested.
He thinks he’s starting to get a little bitter.
A week before his last high school semester begins Ryan catches a pair of willing hands and an even more willing mouth in a restaurant, fingers tiptoeing over his back in rhythm with Auld Lang Syne. A bathroom stall sounds so clichéd, but he indulges in his own self-pity for a while and it’s slower than he expects.
It’s not very good, but the waiter has pretty eyes and that’s all Ryan’s asking, really.
He tells Taylor and Kelsi but not Sharpay, because he knows she’ll find out eventually anyway and he dreads the moment when she’ll tell him how common and vulgar sex with someone who hasn’t paid for your dinner is. (Ryan knows that this is her way of saying I love you, but sometimes he hates it more than he’d like to admit.)
Kelsi pats his shoulder and says that at least he didn’t charge you for your coffee and Ryan chokes on his lunch. Kelsi smiles, shyly.
Taylor wonders if he wants to talk and nods thoughtfully at every pause he makes. ‘I don’t think it’s supposed to be good,’ she murmurs and studies her hands.
Ryan snorts. ‘Probably not.’
She gets up to leave but pauses at the door. ‘I broke up with Chad.’ Her hand flexes twice and her shoulders tense for a second but there is no sadness in the way she looks at him.
Ryan drops his bag.
Taylor doesn’t really talk about Chad. Ryan doesn’t really ask.
He catches a glimpse of Taylor smiling for the first time in two weeks, Chad’s hair brushing her cheek. Ryan would have taken it for a date, except the hand on her thigh really doesn’t look like it’s ever seen a basketball.
Chad throws a glance in his direction and licks his lips.
Ryan turns away.
They all go out for lunch on a Saturday, and it’s one of those things that would have been enjoyable if they were five years older but now is exceptionally awkward for everyone but Gabriella and Troy, who spend half of the meal in each other’s laps. Ryan can’t bring himself to be even a little annoyed; instead, his eyes follow a pair of torn Chuck Taylors across the room.
Chad sips his water and puts his elbow to Ryan’s ribs. ‘No sex in public places, please.’
Ryan accidentally bites his tongue. ‘Excuse me?’
Chad smiles, barely. ‘He doesn’t look like your type anyway.’
‘What, male?’ (He sounds bitter, he knows.)
‘No, not that. Just -’ Chad takes a breath. ‘Just you being interested, is all.’
Ryan raises his eyebrows. ‘Really, dear,’ he says, and pitches his voice just so, ‘You have no idea.’
Chad stares down at his plate; Ryan doesn’t catch him mumbling I have a pretty good one, actually.
Taylor emails him two days later, and Ryan really should have learnt by now that nothing escapes her. I kind of liked David Ferrer last semester. Chad didn’t mind.
It looks a little cryptic, maybe; Ryan knows that it’s not.
He steals Taylor from Gabriella at lunch the next day. ‘Chad,’ he says, and makes very sure that her eyes are soft, ‘Is an athlete.’
Taylor squeezes his arm and nods. ‘But he’s not a football player.’
‘Um,’ Ryan mumbles and wonders if this is what permission means. He doesn’t really want to linger on the fact that he never asked for it.
Taylor looks at him, voice steady, and tells him that Chad would never fuck you in a public restroom.
It’s mostly her using the word ‘fuck’ that unsettles him.
Ryan puts it off for two weeks; Taylor gives him meaningful looks at least four times a day. In the end, it’s not even really up to him, because Chad blurts out I wasn’t sad about Taylor dumping me, you know in passing, like it’s unimportant.
Ryan just latches onto his arm and drags him into a corner. ‘I -’
‘Baseball,’ Chad interrupts and smirks, and Ryan badly wants to tell him about tact.
He studies his fingernails instead. ‘You’re pretty annoying sometimes.’
Chad just wiggles his eyebrows.
They don’t really talk about it, but Ryan thinks it’s maybe unnecessary now that he’s become fairly intimately acquainted with Chad’s bed. It’s a lot like love, except they’re graduating in four months, so it’s probably not -
apart from the times when he thinks that it’s better like this, quieter.
Ryan doesn’t think they’ll ever become Ryan and Chad, the way that Troy and Gabriella are Troy and Gabriella, because there used to be a Chad and Taylor and he doesn’t really want to go there. He drums his fingertips against Chad’s knee and leans back, into the living room sofa; leather protesting loudly against his jeans. ‘I loved a boy, once,’ he says, without even really thinking.
Chad grins and kicks his foot against Ryan’s. ‘Did he have awesome hair and an even more awesome dribble?’
Ryan kicks back. ‘He did not.’
fin.