A Sanctuary in Appassionato
Title: A Sanctuary in Appassionato
Pairing: Eric/Ryan
Rating: PG13ish
Genre: Slash, which means men loving men. Don't like, don't read!!
Disclaimer: Not mine, or I'd be in the middle of eric and ryan, sigh.
Summary: Eric learns how to listen with his heart.
Beta/s: My beloved Ignoblebard and Oldhistory, a new friend and wonderful sounding board when Mike is off galavanting about the country.
There are never any words after sex, but then what would he say? Eric doesn’t know because, outside of work, Ryan has stopped talking to him. Eric’s every attempt to make conversation is cut off with a shrug before Ryan turns and walks away.
He knows the exact day when Ryan stopped talking to him. It was a Tuesday, and it was a case, just one of the many they work in a week, a lover’s quarrel between two men that has gone terribly wrong. Eric overhears the surviving partner tearfully talking to Horatio. Their names were Paul and Carlos, two men, not unlike Ryan and himself, both young, handsome, up-and-coming professionals in their chosen fields. A quarrel, like the kind most married couples have; only this one ends up with one partner dead on the floor and the other sobbing on the couch. To Eric it’s just another case, but Ryan seems to divine some meaning that Eric does not and winter now falls between them.
But their trysts have not stopped, and from time to time Eric will come back to his desk to find one word written upon a neatly folded piece of paper: "TONIGHT". Later, a knock will come upon his door and he will open it to find Ryan standing there; not happy, not sad, but hungry with a desire Eric understands, because he feels it too.
Ryan is different now and he is no longer content to allow Eric to take the lead every time they are together. Eric does not understand where this change in Ryan has come from but he has learned not to question it. Questions require answers and answers require words. Ryan speaks more honestly with his actions than any words he might offer Eric. When the door closes behind them he claims Eric’s lips with his own. Kissing, licking, biting, teasing, not stopping until Eric is incoherent with need - and this with both of them fully dressed. That they make it to the bedroom (and sometimes they don’t) is always a surprise to Eric. Ryan’s inhibitions are shed like his clothes. The hands that caress Eric’s body are replaced by lips that map his every peak. Lips give way to a tongue that probes his valley, skillfully preparing him and Eric cannot help himself the friction of the sheets against his erection and he erupts. But this is only the beginning and after a few minutes Ryan begins to caress him again. Eric lost many memories when he took that bullet to the head but he never forgot how Ryan’s touch felt. Sometimes, when he arches into Ryan’s hand, when he surrenders to his heat, it is the only way he can show what he feels, lost in the moment, words escaping him.
Ryan never seeks his own pleasure until Eric has been satisfied more than once. Then, and only then, does he cover Eric’s body with his own. Now it is Ryan who slips inside Eric, white skin against brown, and the white sheets beneath them that Eric balls up in his hand as he becomes lost in the sensation of the body above him. Even as he thinks nothing more can be physically wrung from him, Ryan’s pace will quicken and at that last explosive moment he will exhale loudly, an audible affirmation that what is happening here is real, and Eric will tip over again.
Now, something inside Ryan relents and he rests his head in the sling of Eric’s neck and shoulder for a moment. Eric can feel the warm breath on his collarbone as he awkwardly strokes Ryan’s hair with a tenderness that surprises him. He can feel the frantic beating of Ryan’s heart begin to slow and the magic of the moment dictates there should be no words. In this moment they are one and Eric understands the things Ryan cannot say.
Horatio knows, of this Eric is certain. More than once he has felt the appraising stare his boss has passed between Ryan and himself. El diablo pelirrojo, Marisol once called Horatio, it fits, and Eric has no desire to lock horns with his boss on this topic. What would he say in his defense? But Horatio, like Ryan, says nothing. Yet not for a moment does Eric think that he and Ryan are flying beneath Horatio’s radar.
The notes keep coming and Eric finds himself tempted to write back with one word on a slip of paper of his own - "NO!" An act of defiance meant to claim back what Ryan, with no words, has stolen from him. But he can’t, and when he tries come up with a reason why they should stop, nothing comes to mind. Just as Ryan has no words for him, so he has none for himself when it comes to this.
The seasons pass, and winter becomes spring. During this time Eric begins to see Natalia. She is sweet, kind and, unlike Ryan, she talks to him of many things that have nothing to do with the blood and gore that is the daily staple of the job they do. She laughs at his jokes and he likes the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Sometimes they hang out at his apartment, sometimes hers. Lovemaking, when it happens, is spontaneous and filled with the joy of two people discovering one another's bodies. In the shower, on the sofa (once on the kitchen table) but never, when they are at his place, in his bed. For some reason he feels his bed is sacrosanct, a place that belongs only to Ryan and himself.
Ryan knows about Natalia, of this Eric is certain, but he still says nothing and the notes no longer appear on Eric's desk. From time to time Ryan comes in and Eric just knows (without know how he knows) what Ryan has been doing, though not with who. Eric knows what words he would use this time should the chance present itself - hot, angry ones filled with accusations. All in all, he is glad that Ryan is not speaking to him and that the weekly visits have stopped though twice now he has thought he heard someone knocking on his door and hurried to answer it, heart hammering in his ears, only to find it’s the wind whipping through the branches of a bush by his front door. The second time this happenes he takes pruning shears and cuts the bush down to its roots. His landlord has plenty to say about that the next morning and Eric has plenty to say in return. Yet in all these months Ryan still does not talk to him and Eric is relieved because he knows some words, once spoken, can never be taken back.
Spring becomes summer and Ryan is fired. Rumors abound: a gambling debt, misappropriation of funds and Eric isn’t sure what to believe. Horatio says nothing and Eric takes this as a cue that he should mind his own business. The task of making sure Ryan has cleaned everything out of his desk falls to Eric. Nothing but a few oddly bent paperclips, a couple of inkless pens, and old post-it notes remain. He’s going over the desk one last time, using his flashlight to hit the back corners, when he sees something he missed the first time around. He pulls it out and is surprised to see it’s a photo of Ryan and himself working a crime scene. In it Eric is kneeling, latex gloves on his hands, sifting through something on the ground. Ryan stands beside him, clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other looking on with interest.
How long has Ryan had this picture? Eric scans the front then flips it over, there is nothing written on the back to indicate when this photo was taken or what it means to Ryan. But Eric, who can read the miniscule minutia of a crime scene, is unable to learn anything here. The picture remains as mute as its former owner.
Eric crumples the photo up and pitches it into the wastebasket, grimly thinking to himself that Bob Dylan said it best - the times they are a changin'. Later that night (as he lies in the bed he still will not take Natalia into) he thinks about Ryan, and sleep - when it finally comes - is thin and troubled.
Miami grows hot. Heat devils dance on the sidewalks and blood runs freely in the streets; the killing season is upon them. The cases come quickly now and overtime is approved, often required. Eric is glad for the distraction that death brings him and more than once he works around the clock. Horatio will arrive in the morning to find Eric hunched over a microscope. Once again he gives Eric that appraising stare before ordering him home and to sleep. Usually Eric argues until Horatio makes it an order.
He reluctantly complies, often tumbling into bed without changing. His dreams are of the fragmented variety we all have, but sometimes he awakens with an ache in his heart and his pillow damp to the touch. Eric wonders if he has wept in his sleep and, though he has no memory of it, he is positive he has been dreaming of Ryan.
It is a Tuesday and still another case, just one more of the many they are working these days, an attack against another homosexual couple, David and Michael. The pictures that surround the living room show two happy men, and are a stark contrast to the carnage that lies beyond this room. The bedroom is a blood soaked nightmare and it gives mute testimony to the horrific violence that ensued there.
Horatio takes Eric with him to the hospital when he interviews the survivor. David’s body is mottled with bruises, his arms snaked with IV's. In a hollow voice he tells them the story. They were celebrating Michael’s birthday when someone knocked on the door, a deliveryman with flowers. David let him in. The man pulled a gun, took them hostage. The killer was angry, telling them that one of them would die before the night was out. Michael offered himself up as the sacrificial lamb, offered himself up willingly and without hesitation. Life without David was no life at all, he had told the man. Before David could think to protest, the man had killed Michael, slit his throat from one side to the other. Here David falls silent and tears glisten in his eyes. Horatio tells Eric to leave, that he will finish conducting this interview in private.
Eric leaves the hospital and comes face to face with the last person he expected to see - Ryan. His former co-worker is now a crime reporter for one of the local television stations. He pushes the microphone into Eric’s face and begins asking questions.
Cuban blood runs hot and Eric has to stifle the urge to jerk the microphone away from Ryan and shove it someplace he is more familiar with than Ryan’s face. Instead, he takes a steadying breath, eyes looking somewhere over Ryan's left shoulder and replies with the standard response all those under Horatio's command are trained to give in these situations - an ongoing investigation, no comment at this time, any further inquiries should be directed to Lieutenant Horatio Caine.
Ryan tries to ask another question but Eric waves him off with one hand, “You sell out the department and you think I'm going to stand here and talk to you?”
A tiny part of Eric is glad at the hurt that crosses Ryan's face but his blood is up and all the words he has held inside come tumbling out. “You betrayed your unit and you betrayed your friends. The work you did was part of something bigger than yourself but you threw it all away.”
A vein begins to throb near Ryan's right eye but Eric does not care, Ryan's betrayal has touched him deeper than he realizes and there is a resignation in his voice an acceptance that things have changed as he speaks one last time, “Maybe I never really knew you at all.”
The cameraman working with Ryan stops shooting and walks away. He is from the old school of reporting, whatever is happening here has nothing to do with the story. He goes back to the news truck and begins packing his camera away. Shaking his head, saddened, Eric too moves away, leaving Ryan standing alone on the hospital steps.
The next morning Ryan fails to turn up for work. Calls to his cell phone and home phone go unanswered. Ryan's new boss calls his old one and Horatio goes to Ryan’s apartment looking for his former team member. He sees nothing out of place, but Ryan is an adult by more than a few years and 24 hours must pass before a missing persons report can be filed. Yet Horatio knows people, and Horatio knows secrets. Privately, he puts out some feelers of his own. Two hours later his cell phone rings and Horatio has his answers.
Later that day, Eric returns to his desk to find an envelope lying on top of his paperwork. He opens it up to find the photo of Ryan and himself that he had thrown away, the picture has been flattened out and there is a note clipped to it, it’s a classic of Horatio Caine brevity, three words and an address - "Go get him, 1324 Ocean View Drive". There are five open homicides on his desk and Eric leaves them sitting there without a second thought.
There is no ocean and there is no view, it’s an industrial park. Eric knocks on the door and a wizened old Asian man bows him in. The silence here reeks of secrets, and the air is heavy with the metallic twang of body fluids. This is a sex club and Eric (who has seen the seamier side of human nature more than he cares to admit) knows he never wants to know how Ryan came to be acquainted with a place such as this.
The old man leads him to a nearby room and points inside before bowing again and taking his leave. Eric enters to find Ryan sitting on a bench. There is a defeated air about him and he never raises his gaze from the carpet. Though he does not speak he also does not seem to be surprised that Eric is there to get him.
Ryan stands, wincing slightly as he does so. This time he does look at Eric and a flash of understanding flows between them. Eric knows this is where Ryan has been coming during the time he had been seeing Natalia. Many words run through Eric’s mind, but he knows this is neither the time nor the place for any of them. Instead, he settles for keeping himself in the moment. Picking up the jacket and tie Ryan has left lying on the bench, Eric says, “Let’s get out of here.”
They exit the building as the first sounds of thunder are heard.
“Where’s your car, Wolfe?”
“I took a cab, Delko.”
A mundane conversation, and the first time Ryan has responded to anything Eric has asked him outside of work in nearly a year, but new beginnings have been based on less and for now it’s enough.
The drive is quiet; beside him Ryan stares out the passenger side window. Eric fiddles with the radio but it’s an odd time of day and all he can find is either talk or rock, neither of which seems appropriate for the mood. He turns it off with one jab of a finger as rain begins to spatter against the windshield.
Ryan shifts about in the passenger seat for a moment, he glances once over at Eric before looking away, “I just wanted to forget.”
Eric looks over at Ryan expecting him to say more but Ryan has turned away, he has said all he feels comfortable saying for now. It is probably the closest thing to an explanation Ryan will ever give him. But Eric understands he too has felt the pull of the sign that says “disappear here”. After all isn’t that what he was doing when he was with Natalia and Ryan wasn’t speaking to him?
It begins to rain harder and outside images become distorted by the rivulets of water that are pouring down the windows. Eric downshifts as they go through a sizeable puddle, “I’m taking you back to my place.”
Eric’s heart is hammering in his ears as Ryan turns to look at him once again. A full measure of heartbeats pass but whatever Ryan sees it must be enough and he resumes his stare out of the car window, “ok”.
They arrive at Eric’s place without further conversation and Ryan heads to the shower. Eric settles down to watch TV while Ryan cleans up. There is a peaceful air here that he never felt when Natalia was around.
Two television shows later Ryan is still not out of the shower, though Eric knows the hot water should have long run out by now. He goes into the bathroom to find Ryan sitting in the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around his legs and shivering beneath the cold spray. Eric turns off the water and helps Ryan out of the shower. He grabs the nearest towel (glad to find out with a quick sniff that it’s clean) and begins to dry Ryan off. It’s another one of those awkward moments because of the unexpected tenderness, but Eric does not stop. In this moment they are one and it is Ryan’s turn to understand the things Eric cannot say.
Now dry, Ryan’s skin is still cool to the touch and Eric takes him into the bedroom, there is a sense of home as Eric watches Ryan crawl under the sheets. Eric grabs the blanket that’s been hanging halfway off the bed for over a week now and adjusts it so that Ryan is covered, then he sheds his own clothes and climbs beneath the covers as well. He scoots over but stops just short of tucking himself into Ryan, inches that could be miles, the last step over a bridge that only goes one way. But Eric knows what he wants, has known it for a long time now. A year of no words has taught him to listen with his heart. He reaches out and pulls Ryan to him. Tomorrow they will talk, but that is tomorrow.
Eric breathes in as Ryan breathes out. Brown skin to white skin to white sheets, the circle of the year is complete as fall now gives way to winter.
End
Pairing: Eric/Ryan
Rating: PG13ish
Genre: Slash, which means men loving men. Don't like, don't read!!
Disclaimer: Not mine, or I'd be in the middle of eric and ryan, sigh.
Summary: Eric learns how to listen with his heart.
Beta/s: My beloved Ignoblebard and Oldhistory, a new friend and wonderful sounding board when Mike is off galavanting about the country.
There are never any words after sex, but then what would he say? Eric doesn’t know because, outside of work, Ryan has stopped talking to him. Eric’s every attempt to make conversation is cut off with a shrug before Ryan turns and walks away.
He knows the exact day when Ryan stopped talking to him. It was a Tuesday, and it was a case, just one of the many they work in a week, a lover’s quarrel between two men that has gone terribly wrong. Eric overhears the surviving partner tearfully talking to Horatio. Their names were Paul and Carlos, two men, not unlike Ryan and himself, both young, handsome, up-and-coming professionals in their chosen fields. A quarrel, like the kind most married couples have; only this one ends up with one partner dead on the floor and the other sobbing on the couch. To Eric it’s just another case, but Ryan seems to divine some meaning that Eric does not and winter now falls between them.
But their trysts have not stopped, and from time to time Eric will come back to his desk to find one word written upon a neatly folded piece of paper: "TONIGHT". Later, a knock will come upon his door and he will open it to find Ryan standing there; not happy, not sad, but hungry with a desire Eric understands, because he feels it too.
Ryan is different now and he is no longer content to allow Eric to take the lead every time they are together. Eric does not understand where this change in Ryan has come from but he has learned not to question it. Questions require answers and answers require words. Ryan speaks more honestly with his actions than any words he might offer Eric. When the door closes behind them he claims Eric’s lips with his own. Kissing, licking, biting, teasing, not stopping until Eric is incoherent with need - and this with both of them fully dressed. That they make it to the bedroom (and sometimes they don’t) is always a surprise to Eric. Ryan’s inhibitions are shed like his clothes. The hands that caress Eric’s body are replaced by lips that map his every peak. Lips give way to a tongue that probes his valley, skillfully preparing him and Eric cannot help himself the friction of the sheets against his erection and he erupts. But this is only the beginning and after a few minutes Ryan begins to caress him again. Eric lost many memories when he took that bullet to the head but he never forgot how Ryan’s touch felt. Sometimes, when he arches into Ryan’s hand, when he surrenders to his heat, it is the only way he can show what he feels, lost in the moment, words escaping him.
Ryan never seeks his own pleasure until Eric has been satisfied more than once. Then, and only then, does he cover Eric’s body with his own. Now it is Ryan who slips inside Eric, white skin against brown, and the white sheets beneath them that Eric balls up in his hand as he becomes lost in the sensation of the body above him. Even as he thinks nothing more can be physically wrung from him, Ryan’s pace will quicken and at that last explosive moment he will exhale loudly, an audible affirmation that what is happening here is real, and Eric will tip over again.
Now, something inside Ryan relents and he rests his head in the sling of Eric’s neck and shoulder for a moment. Eric can feel the warm breath on his collarbone as he awkwardly strokes Ryan’s hair with a tenderness that surprises him. He can feel the frantic beating of Ryan’s heart begin to slow and the magic of the moment dictates there should be no words. In this moment they are one and Eric understands the things Ryan cannot say.
Horatio knows, of this Eric is certain. More than once he has felt the appraising stare his boss has passed between Ryan and himself. El diablo pelirrojo, Marisol once called Horatio, it fits, and Eric has no desire to lock horns with his boss on this topic. What would he say in his defense? But Horatio, like Ryan, says nothing. Yet not for a moment does Eric think that he and Ryan are flying beneath Horatio’s radar.
The notes keep coming and Eric finds himself tempted to write back with one word on a slip of paper of his own - "NO!" An act of defiance meant to claim back what Ryan, with no words, has stolen from him. But he can’t, and when he tries come up with a reason why they should stop, nothing comes to mind. Just as Ryan has no words for him, so he has none for himself when it comes to this.
The seasons pass, and winter becomes spring. During this time Eric begins to see Natalia. She is sweet, kind and, unlike Ryan, she talks to him of many things that have nothing to do with the blood and gore that is the daily staple of the job they do. She laughs at his jokes and he likes the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Sometimes they hang out at his apartment, sometimes hers. Lovemaking, when it happens, is spontaneous and filled with the joy of two people discovering one another's bodies. In the shower, on the sofa (once on the kitchen table) but never, when they are at his place, in his bed. For some reason he feels his bed is sacrosanct, a place that belongs only to Ryan and himself.
Ryan knows about Natalia, of this Eric is certain, but he still says nothing and the notes no longer appear on Eric's desk. From time to time Ryan comes in and Eric just knows (without know how he knows) what Ryan has been doing, though not with who. Eric knows what words he would use this time should the chance present itself - hot, angry ones filled with accusations. All in all, he is glad that Ryan is not speaking to him and that the weekly visits have stopped though twice now he has thought he heard someone knocking on his door and hurried to answer it, heart hammering in his ears, only to find it’s the wind whipping through the branches of a bush by his front door. The second time this happenes he takes pruning shears and cuts the bush down to its roots. His landlord has plenty to say about that the next morning and Eric has plenty to say in return. Yet in all these months Ryan still does not talk to him and Eric is relieved because he knows some words, once spoken, can never be taken back.
Spring becomes summer and Ryan is fired. Rumors abound: a gambling debt, misappropriation of funds and Eric isn’t sure what to believe. Horatio says nothing and Eric takes this as a cue that he should mind his own business. The task of making sure Ryan has cleaned everything out of his desk falls to Eric. Nothing but a few oddly bent paperclips, a couple of inkless pens, and old post-it notes remain. He’s going over the desk one last time, using his flashlight to hit the back corners, when he sees something he missed the first time around. He pulls it out and is surprised to see it’s a photo of Ryan and himself working a crime scene. In it Eric is kneeling, latex gloves on his hands, sifting through something on the ground. Ryan stands beside him, clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other looking on with interest.
How long has Ryan had this picture? Eric scans the front then flips it over, there is nothing written on the back to indicate when this photo was taken or what it means to Ryan. But Eric, who can read the miniscule minutia of a crime scene, is unable to learn anything here. The picture remains as mute as its former owner.
Eric crumples the photo up and pitches it into the wastebasket, grimly thinking to himself that Bob Dylan said it best - the times they are a changin'. Later that night (as he lies in the bed he still will not take Natalia into) he thinks about Ryan, and sleep - when it finally comes - is thin and troubled.
Miami grows hot. Heat devils dance on the sidewalks and blood runs freely in the streets; the killing season is upon them. The cases come quickly now and overtime is approved, often required. Eric is glad for the distraction that death brings him and more than once he works around the clock. Horatio will arrive in the morning to find Eric hunched over a microscope. Once again he gives Eric that appraising stare before ordering him home and to sleep. Usually Eric argues until Horatio makes it an order.
He reluctantly complies, often tumbling into bed without changing. His dreams are of the fragmented variety we all have, but sometimes he awakens with an ache in his heart and his pillow damp to the touch. Eric wonders if he has wept in his sleep and, though he has no memory of it, he is positive he has been dreaming of Ryan.
It is a Tuesday and still another case, just one more of the many they are working these days, an attack against another homosexual couple, David and Michael. The pictures that surround the living room show two happy men, and are a stark contrast to the carnage that lies beyond this room. The bedroom is a blood soaked nightmare and it gives mute testimony to the horrific violence that ensued there.
Horatio takes Eric with him to the hospital when he interviews the survivor. David’s body is mottled with bruises, his arms snaked with IV's. In a hollow voice he tells them the story. They were celebrating Michael’s birthday when someone knocked on the door, a deliveryman with flowers. David let him in. The man pulled a gun, took them hostage. The killer was angry, telling them that one of them would die before the night was out. Michael offered himself up as the sacrificial lamb, offered himself up willingly and without hesitation. Life without David was no life at all, he had told the man. Before David could think to protest, the man had killed Michael, slit his throat from one side to the other. Here David falls silent and tears glisten in his eyes. Horatio tells Eric to leave, that he will finish conducting this interview in private.
Eric leaves the hospital and comes face to face with the last person he expected to see - Ryan. His former co-worker is now a crime reporter for one of the local television stations. He pushes the microphone into Eric’s face and begins asking questions.
Cuban blood runs hot and Eric has to stifle the urge to jerk the microphone away from Ryan and shove it someplace he is more familiar with than Ryan’s face. Instead, he takes a steadying breath, eyes looking somewhere over Ryan's left shoulder and replies with the standard response all those under Horatio's command are trained to give in these situations - an ongoing investigation, no comment at this time, any further inquiries should be directed to Lieutenant Horatio Caine.
Ryan tries to ask another question but Eric waves him off with one hand, “You sell out the department and you think I'm going to stand here and talk to you?”
A tiny part of Eric is glad at the hurt that crosses Ryan's face but his blood is up and all the words he has held inside come tumbling out. “You betrayed your unit and you betrayed your friends. The work you did was part of something bigger than yourself but you threw it all away.”
A vein begins to throb near Ryan's right eye but Eric does not care, Ryan's betrayal has touched him deeper than he realizes and there is a resignation in his voice an acceptance that things have changed as he speaks one last time, “Maybe I never really knew you at all.”
The cameraman working with Ryan stops shooting and walks away. He is from the old school of reporting, whatever is happening here has nothing to do with the story. He goes back to the news truck and begins packing his camera away. Shaking his head, saddened, Eric too moves away, leaving Ryan standing alone on the hospital steps.
The next morning Ryan fails to turn up for work. Calls to his cell phone and home phone go unanswered. Ryan's new boss calls his old one and Horatio goes to Ryan’s apartment looking for his former team member. He sees nothing out of place, but Ryan is an adult by more than a few years and 24 hours must pass before a missing persons report can be filed. Yet Horatio knows people, and Horatio knows secrets. Privately, he puts out some feelers of his own. Two hours later his cell phone rings and Horatio has his answers.
Later that day, Eric returns to his desk to find an envelope lying on top of his paperwork. He opens it up to find the photo of Ryan and himself that he had thrown away, the picture has been flattened out and there is a note clipped to it, it’s a classic of Horatio Caine brevity, three words and an address - "Go get him, 1324 Ocean View Drive". There are five open homicides on his desk and Eric leaves them sitting there without a second thought.
There is no ocean and there is no view, it’s an industrial park. Eric knocks on the door and a wizened old Asian man bows him in. The silence here reeks of secrets, and the air is heavy with the metallic twang of body fluids. This is a sex club and Eric (who has seen the seamier side of human nature more than he cares to admit) knows he never wants to know how Ryan came to be acquainted with a place such as this.
The old man leads him to a nearby room and points inside before bowing again and taking his leave. Eric enters to find Ryan sitting on a bench. There is a defeated air about him and he never raises his gaze from the carpet. Though he does not speak he also does not seem to be surprised that Eric is there to get him.
Ryan stands, wincing slightly as he does so. This time he does look at Eric and a flash of understanding flows between them. Eric knows this is where Ryan has been coming during the time he had been seeing Natalia. Many words run through Eric’s mind, but he knows this is neither the time nor the place for any of them. Instead, he settles for keeping himself in the moment. Picking up the jacket and tie Ryan has left lying on the bench, Eric says, “Let’s get out of here.”
They exit the building as the first sounds of thunder are heard.
“Where’s your car, Wolfe?”
“I took a cab, Delko.”
A mundane conversation, and the first time Ryan has responded to anything Eric has asked him outside of work in nearly a year, but new beginnings have been based on less and for now it’s enough.
The drive is quiet; beside him Ryan stares out the passenger side window. Eric fiddles with the radio but it’s an odd time of day and all he can find is either talk or rock, neither of which seems appropriate for the mood. He turns it off with one jab of a finger as rain begins to spatter against the windshield.
Ryan shifts about in the passenger seat for a moment, he glances once over at Eric before looking away, “I just wanted to forget.”
Eric looks over at Ryan expecting him to say more but Ryan has turned away, he has said all he feels comfortable saying for now. It is probably the closest thing to an explanation Ryan will ever give him. But Eric understands he too has felt the pull of the sign that says “disappear here”. After all isn’t that what he was doing when he was with Natalia and Ryan wasn’t speaking to him?
It begins to rain harder and outside images become distorted by the rivulets of water that are pouring down the windows. Eric downshifts as they go through a sizeable puddle, “I’m taking you back to my place.”
Eric’s heart is hammering in his ears as Ryan turns to look at him once again. A full measure of heartbeats pass but whatever Ryan sees it must be enough and he resumes his stare out of the car window, “ok”.
They arrive at Eric’s place without further conversation and Ryan heads to the shower. Eric settles down to watch TV while Ryan cleans up. There is a peaceful air here that he never felt when Natalia was around.
Two television shows later Ryan is still not out of the shower, though Eric knows the hot water should have long run out by now. He goes into the bathroom to find Ryan sitting in the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around his legs and shivering beneath the cold spray. Eric turns off the water and helps Ryan out of the shower. He grabs the nearest towel (glad to find out with a quick sniff that it’s clean) and begins to dry Ryan off. It’s another one of those awkward moments because of the unexpected tenderness, but Eric does not stop. In this moment they are one and it is Ryan’s turn to understand the things Eric cannot say.
Now dry, Ryan’s skin is still cool to the touch and Eric takes him into the bedroom, there is a sense of home as Eric watches Ryan crawl under the sheets. Eric grabs the blanket that’s been hanging halfway off the bed for over a week now and adjusts it so that Ryan is covered, then he sheds his own clothes and climbs beneath the covers as well. He scoots over but stops just short of tucking himself into Ryan, inches that could be miles, the last step over a bridge that only goes one way. But Eric knows what he wants, has known it for a long time now. A year of no words has taught him to listen with his heart. He reaches out and pulls Ryan to him. Tomorrow they will talk, but that is tomorrow.
Eric breathes in as Ryan breathes out. Brown skin to white skin to white sheets, the circle of the year is complete as fall now gives way to winter.
End