FIC: Radio Friendly Rymon Remix (Ryan/Simon, PG)
Author: Clio
Title: Radio Friendly: Rymon Remix
Pairing: Ryan/Simon (American Idol)
Rating: PG
Summary: Simon is too preoccupied with his own crisis to notice that Ryan is coming apart at the seams.
Length: 1600 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Radio Friendly is an AU set in 1962, when New York was the center of pop music and the Brill Building was where it all happened, when a group of talented songwriters and producers crafted perfect pop hits for artists whose every move was controlled by their label. These are just the Rymony bits for my Rymon friends; you can see the full story here. For the resolution, see the "missing scene" linked to at the end of this remix.
HUGE thanks to lillijulianne and allysonsedai!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 31, 1962: Chris and Blake are a new songwriting team who were put together by and work for Simon's record label. Chris has been in New York for a month before Blake discovers that Chris is gay, too. So Blake takes him to his favorite gay club, Cooper's, to show him off and introduce his new buddy to his friends, and they are surprised by Ryan, a successful DJ with a daily local record hop television show.
"Oh my god," Blake said.
"What?"
He turned to Chris. "So I meant to tell you this, only I forgot in all the excitement, but um, the thing I knew about Ryan Seacrest? Yeah, he's gay. And frequents this place. And is headed right for this table. Try not to look surprised. Pretend I told you already."
Chris blinked. "Um, okay?"
Ryan was wearing a dark green tweed suit with an olive green shirt and a green-gray tie, all of which brought out his green eyes. "Well, look who the Blake dragged in," he said with a broad smile. "I never would have known." He shook Chris's hand. "Welcome to the club."
"Do I get a secret decoder ring?" Chris joked, trying not to think about how long it took Ryan to let go of his hand.
"May I join you?" Ryan asked as he sat.
"Of course," Blake said, sitting back in his chair. "But lay off Chris."
Chris and Ryan looked over at Blake. Chris had rarely seen him quite so serious.
"What?" Ryan asked. "I hadn't even-"
"I know he's fresh meat and all," Blake said pleasantly. "And I know he's almost too handsome. But-"
"But he's yours so hands off?" Ryan asked.
"No," Blake said. "But he's an old-fashioned romantic who isn't interested in a quick fling."
"You mean he isn't like you."
"Hey, I know I'm a slut."
"Just checking. So are you calling me a slut? Because compared to you, darling …"
"No, not a slut, not at all. But Chris will want your heart, and you won't be able to give it to him."
Ryan scowled. "Why not?"
Blake leaned forward. "Because you've already given it to someone else."
Ryan just stared at Blake, wide-eyed, as though he'd been slapped, then collapsed back into his chair. "God, am I really that obvious?" he asked, and lit up a Camel.
"Only to the trained eye," Blake replied, softly. "Is it worth it? Being the other woman, I mean."
"Yes? No? I don't know. Sometimes, sometimes it is," he said. "But it isn't like I can do anything about it. Even if there were no Paula, it wouldn't change much. They don't have that kind of marriage."
Oh, Chris thought. So it's Cowell.
"No," Blake was saying, "you can't do anything about who you fall in love with."
Chris looked over at Blake, wondering why he sounded so sad. Blake being romantically rejected was not a situation that could exist in Chris's universe; why would anyone not want Blake to fall in love with them?
"Does she know?" Blake continued.
Ryan looked up. "Yeah, actually, she does. But she was never in love with Simon; he was her producer, and she married him, and he took care of her while she was still singing, and he takes care of her now. She has her dogs and her friends and she decorates the houses he buys and now she's decorating other people's houses and she seems to like her life. And if he divorced her tomorrow, she'd still have that life. She thanked me once, actually. Said she didn't want him crawling all over her anyway."
"So Paula gets what she wants and Simon gets what he wants. What about you?"
"Me? Friend, I don't even know what I want." He gulped the rest of his drink. "But whatever it is, it isn't here."
"Why don't you call him?" Chris asked.
"Well, it's the weekend and we don't usually-"
"Just call him. Offer to make him dinner or something."
"That sounds pretty domestic." Ryan paused, playing with a matchbook. "But maybe, yeah."
"I bet he's just sitting there in that big apartment, working, thinking he's letting you have your fun," Blake added.
Ryan smiled a little. "Okay, you know, I will call him. I'll, um, I'll see you later." He got up and all but sprinted to the back hall, where there was a pay phone.
February 19, 1963: Simon thought that he could develop Chris into a performing artist, but the presentation of Chris to the rest of the company plus Ryan falls apart when Simon wants to give Chris (who is now dating Blake) a sham girlfriend.
"I will remind you, Richardson," Cowell said, "that you signed a contract."
"Nowhere in that contract did it say I'd have to lie."
"We know how to make you big," Cowell said. "I thought you had what it takes."
"Let him go, Simon," Paula said.
All eyes turned to her. Blake, even though he'd walked her in, had forgotten she was in the room.
"What did you say?" Cowell asked her.
Paula turned her head, looking from Chris, to Blake, to Ryan, who looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him up. "Just let him go," she repeated.
Cowell stared at her for a long moment, the rest of the room looking at him. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighed, and then brushed Chris away with a wave of his hand. Chris stood up and walked out of the room.
Blake got up to follow him, not really caring how it looked, though on his way out he glanced back to see that Ryan had pushed back from the table, his head down between his outstretched hands. Paula looked up from rubbing his back to give Blake a sort of half-smile, and tipped her head in the direction Chris had gone.
[Blake and Chris talk in their office about the meeting over a shared salami sandwich.]
There was a tentative knock at the door, and Blake answered, "Who is it?"
"It's Ryan."
Blake looked at Chris, who nodded, and he reached over to open the door, then slid past Chris to sit in the extra chair.
"Not much room," Ryan said, looking around.
"Sit here," Chris said, patting the bench. "You'll fit; your ass is smaller than Blake's."
"Hey!" Blake protested.
"Not by much," Ryan said, sitting down and closing the door behind him.
"By a lot, actually," Blake said. "You need this sandwich more than we do."
"Your eyes are starting to sink back into your head, man," Chris said. "Not a good look for TV."
"I just need some time off," he replied. "But I didn't come to talk about me. I, um, I have this house, you know, at Fire Island Pines? No one's really out there this time of year, so it's very restful. I sometimes go out just to get my head together. I thought, you know, while you're trying to decide what to do next, well, I wanted to offer it to you."
Chris looked at Blake, who nodded. "Thanks, Ryan. It might be good to get away for a little bit. But seriously, you sure you don't need it more than we do?"
Ryan waved his hand. "I'll be fine. I have some time off coming this spring. Things have just-Simon went home to London for the holiday and he's been in a funny mood since he's been back. Everything's just a little more difficult right now."
"No offense, friend," Chris said, "but you didn't look that great even before then."
Ryan just shrugged, and then there was another knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Blake asked.
"Simon Cowell."
Ryan reached over and opened the door; if Cowell was surprised to see Ryan in the room, he didn't show it. He slid around the door, closing it behind him and leaning against it, which was the only place in the room to stand.
"Sir, I am sorry," Chris said. "I know that a lot of people put a lot of work into this -"
"No more than you did," Cowell replied. "And I apologize, too. I think … I may have pushed a bit too hard, for reasons of my own." He paused for a minute. "It smells like salami in here. Anyway, what I came to say was, Richardson, we'll release you from the contract you signed last month, no penalties, as though it was never signed. But that means that as of today, you don't have a contract here as a songwriter, since we'd put both contracts into one. Lewis does; his won't expire until the end of April. Just take the rest of the week and let me know on Monday what you'd like to do, and we'll work it out with the lawyers."
"Thanks, Mr. Cowell. I really appreciate that," Chris said.
"Look, you two have made a lot of money for this company. I don't want to end in a bad way." He stopped and looked down at Ryan, as if noticing him for the first time. "What are you doing here?"
"Offering them the use of the beach house," Ryan said.
"I thought you were going to stay there over your holiday in March," Cowell said.
"No. I need to get away, really get away, and I have two weeks."
"So where will you go?"
"I don't know. Atlanta, see the folks for a bit. Maybe Europe; I've never been there." He ran a finger along a groove in the piano. "I don't suppose you could-"
"Ryan, you know-"
"Yeah, didn't think so." Ryan sighed, and looked at his watch. "I need to get to the studio. I'll see all of you later. Chris, Blake, just call me and I'll get you the extra keys." He stood, looking at Simon, who was still leaning against the door. "Um, Simon? The door?"
Something like an emotion suddenly passed across Simon's face. "You do know this will all be over very soon, right?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked.
"You heard those songs, Ryan. Oh, never mind." He opened the door and walked Ryan into the hall. "Do you need a car?"
"Simon, it's fifteen blocks up Broadway. I'd rather walk anyway." Ryan waved at Chris and Blake and then walked away. Cowell looked after him, then turned on his heel and walked to his office.
Missing Scene 1: Ryan and Simon
Title: Radio Friendly: Rymon Remix
Pairing: Ryan/Simon (American Idol)
Rating: PG
Summary: Simon is too preoccupied with his own crisis to notice that Ryan is coming apart at the seams.
Length: 1600 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Radio Friendly is an AU set in 1962, when New York was the center of pop music and the Brill Building was where it all happened, when a group of talented songwriters and producers crafted perfect pop hits for artists whose every move was controlled by their label. These are just the Rymony bits for my Rymon friends; you can see the full story here. For the resolution, see the "missing scene" linked to at the end of this remix.
HUGE thanks to lillijulianne and allysonsedai!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 31, 1962: Chris and Blake are a new songwriting team who were put together by and work for Simon's record label. Chris has been in New York for a month before Blake discovers that Chris is gay, too. So Blake takes him to his favorite gay club, Cooper's, to show him off and introduce his new buddy to his friends, and they are surprised by Ryan, a successful DJ with a daily local record hop television show.
"Oh my god," Blake said.
"What?"
He turned to Chris. "So I meant to tell you this, only I forgot in all the excitement, but um, the thing I knew about Ryan Seacrest? Yeah, he's gay. And frequents this place. And is headed right for this table. Try not to look surprised. Pretend I told you already."
Chris blinked. "Um, okay?"
Ryan was wearing a dark green tweed suit with an olive green shirt and a green-gray tie, all of which brought out his green eyes. "Well, look who the Blake dragged in," he said with a broad smile. "I never would have known." He shook Chris's hand. "Welcome to the club."
"Do I get a secret decoder ring?" Chris joked, trying not to think about how long it took Ryan to let go of his hand.
"May I join you?" Ryan asked as he sat.
"Of course," Blake said, sitting back in his chair. "But lay off Chris."
Chris and Ryan looked over at Blake. Chris had rarely seen him quite so serious.
"What?" Ryan asked. "I hadn't even-"
"I know he's fresh meat and all," Blake said pleasantly. "And I know he's almost too handsome. But-"
"But he's yours so hands off?" Ryan asked.
"No," Blake said. "But he's an old-fashioned romantic who isn't interested in a quick fling."
"You mean he isn't like you."
"Hey, I know I'm a slut."
"Just checking. So are you calling me a slut? Because compared to you, darling …"
"No, not a slut, not at all. But Chris will want your heart, and you won't be able to give it to him."
Ryan scowled. "Why not?"
Blake leaned forward. "Because you've already given it to someone else."
Ryan just stared at Blake, wide-eyed, as though he'd been slapped, then collapsed back into his chair. "God, am I really that obvious?" he asked, and lit up a Camel.
"Only to the trained eye," Blake replied, softly. "Is it worth it? Being the other woman, I mean."
"Yes? No? I don't know. Sometimes, sometimes it is," he said. "But it isn't like I can do anything about it. Even if there were no Paula, it wouldn't change much. They don't have that kind of marriage."
Oh, Chris thought. So it's Cowell.
"No," Blake was saying, "you can't do anything about who you fall in love with."
Chris looked over at Blake, wondering why he sounded so sad. Blake being romantically rejected was not a situation that could exist in Chris's universe; why would anyone not want Blake to fall in love with them?
"Does she know?" Blake continued.
Ryan looked up. "Yeah, actually, she does. But she was never in love with Simon; he was her producer, and she married him, and he took care of her while she was still singing, and he takes care of her now. She has her dogs and her friends and she decorates the houses he buys and now she's decorating other people's houses and she seems to like her life. And if he divorced her tomorrow, she'd still have that life. She thanked me once, actually. Said she didn't want him crawling all over her anyway."
"So Paula gets what she wants and Simon gets what he wants. What about you?"
"Me? Friend, I don't even know what I want." He gulped the rest of his drink. "But whatever it is, it isn't here."
"Why don't you call him?" Chris asked.
"Well, it's the weekend and we don't usually-"
"Just call him. Offer to make him dinner or something."
"That sounds pretty domestic." Ryan paused, playing with a matchbook. "But maybe, yeah."
"I bet he's just sitting there in that big apartment, working, thinking he's letting you have your fun," Blake added.
Ryan smiled a little. "Okay, you know, I will call him. I'll, um, I'll see you later." He got up and all but sprinted to the back hall, where there was a pay phone.
February 19, 1963: Simon thought that he could develop Chris into a performing artist, but the presentation of Chris to the rest of the company plus Ryan falls apart when Simon wants to give Chris (who is now dating Blake) a sham girlfriend.
"I will remind you, Richardson," Cowell said, "that you signed a contract."
"Nowhere in that contract did it say I'd have to lie."
"We know how to make you big," Cowell said. "I thought you had what it takes."
"Let him go, Simon," Paula said.
All eyes turned to her. Blake, even though he'd walked her in, had forgotten she was in the room.
"What did you say?" Cowell asked her.
Paula turned her head, looking from Chris, to Blake, to Ryan, who looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him up. "Just let him go," she repeated.
Cowell stared at her for a long moment, the rest of the room looking at him. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighed, and then brushed Chris away with a wave of his hand. Chris stood up and walked out of the room.
Blake got up to follow him, not really caring how it looked, though on his way out he glanced back to see that Ryan had pushed back from the table, his head down between his outstretched hands. Paula looked up from rubbing his back to give Blake a sort of half-smile, and tipped her head in the direction Chris had gone.
[Blake and Chris talk in their office about the meeting over a shared salami sandwich.]
There was a tentative knock at the door, and Blake answered, "Who is it?"
"It's Ryan."
Blake looked at Chris, who nodded, and he reached over to open the door, then slid past Chris to sit in the extra chair.
"Not much room," Ryan said, looking around.
"Sit here," Chris said, patting the bench. "You'll fit; your ass is smaller than Blake's."
"Hey!" Blake protested.
"Not by much," Ryan said, sitting down and closing the door behind him.
"By a lot, actually," Blake said. "You need this sandwich more than we do."
"Your eyes are starting to sink back into your head, man," Chris said. "Not a good look for TV."
"I just need some time off," he replied. "But I didn't come to talk about me. I, um, I have this house, you know, at Fire Island Pines? No one's really out there this time of year, so it's very restful. I sometimes go out just to get my head together. I thought, you know, while you're trying to decide what to do next, well, I wanted to offer it to you."
Chris looked at Blake, who nodded. "Thanks, Ryan. It might be good to get away for a little bit. But seriously, you sure you don't need it more than we do?"
Ryan waved his hand. "I'll be fine. I have some time off coming this spring. Things have just-Simon went home to London for the holiday and he's been in a funny mood since he's been back. Everything's just a little more difficult right now."
"No offense, friend," Chris said, "but you didn't look that great even before then."
Ryan just shrugged, and then there was another knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Blake asked.
"Simon Cowell."
Ryan reached over and opened the door; if Cowell was surprised to see Ryan in the room, he didn't show it. He slid around the door, closing it behind him and leaning against it, which was the only place in the room to stand.
"Sir, I am sorry," Chris said. "I know that a lot of people put a lot of work into this -"
"No more than you did," Cowell replied. "And I apologize, too. I think … I may have pushed a bit too hard, for reasons of my own." He paused for a minute. "It smells like salami in here. Anyway, what I came to say was, Richardson, we'll release you from the contract you signed last month, no penalties, as though it was never signed. But that means that as of today, you don't have a contract here as a songwriter, since we'd put both contracts into one. Lewis does; his won't expire until the end of April. Just take the rest of the week and let me know on Monday what you'd like to do, and we'll work it out with the lawyers."
"Thanks, Mr. Cowell. I really appreciate that," Chris said.
"Look, you two have made a lot of money for this company. I don't want to end in a bad way." He stopped and looked down at Ryan, as if noticing him for the first time. "What are you doing here?"
"Offering them the use of the beach house," Ryan said.
"I thought you were going to stay there over your holiday in March," Cowell said.
"No. I need to get away, really get away, and I have two weeks."
"So where will you go?"
"I don't know. Atlanta, see the folks for a bit. Maybe Europe; I've never been there." He ran a finger along a groove in the piano. "I don't suppose you could-"
"Ryan, you know-"
"Yeah, didn't think so." Ryan sighed, and looked at his watch. "I need to get to the studio. I'll see all of you later. Chris, Blake, just call me and I'll get you the extra keys." He stood, looking at Simon, who was still leaning against the door. "Um, Simon? The door?"
Something like an emotion suddenly passed across Simon's face. "You do know this will all be over very soon, right?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked.
"You heard those songs, Ryan. Oh, never mind." He opened the door and walked Ryan into the hall. "Do you need a car?"
"Simon, it's fifteen blocks up Broadway. I'd rather walk anyway." Ryan waved at Chris and Blake and then walked away. Cowell looked after him, then turned on his heel and walked to his office.
Missing Scene 1: Ryan and Simon