Rain (Lochte/Phelps) PG-13
Title: Rain
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This only happened in my imagination. I may wish that I owned the characters in my work of fiction or that I made money off of these stories, but alas, I sadly don't.
A/N: This story was inspired by a recent patch of bleak weather, and while I've been cooped up inside I figured I might as well use my time wisely and write a little Phlochte. I also have to take this time to thank my wonderfully amazing friend ivebeenburgled for her masterful beta-ing skills. What would I do without you my dear?!
Most people associate rain with depression, loneliness, and even destruction. But as Ryan stared up at the thick and ominous clouds approaching his Central Florida home, he knew they brought with them a chance for cleansing, renewal, and for some relief on this muggy July afternoon. So many years of his life had gone by and the rain seemed to follow the ebb and flow of his emotions; always appearing on the most important days of his life.
The day Ryan first kissed Michael.
The air had been thick and heavy with moisture almost the entire time they had been in Beijing. American newscasters stationed in the city to report on the Olympic Games were nervous that the poisonous pollution in the air would affect their athletes, and they were constantly hoping for some relief, for the clouds to finally release their precipitation and wash away the toxins. It wasn’t until halfway through the first week of competition that their prayers were finally answered.
After having stealthily stolen a basketball from one of his suite-mates Ryan made his way to the court built adjacent to the quad between the American and the Australian dorms. His shirt was already beginning to stick to him and his curls suffered from frizz that no headband could tame. Other athletes may have sought sanctuary in their rooms from the humidity, but Ryan thrived in this environment. It was comforting to shoot the ball around on a day so similar to the one he knew his friends were having back home.
Michael had been watching his best friend play from the large bay windows of their dorm’s lobby with fascination. He’d had his share of muggy and sweat-drenched summers living in Maryland, but why Ryan would actively seek a torturous afternoon outside was beyond his comprehension, especially with the ridiculously high levels of pollution. Didn’t Ryan know that shit causes cancer? With a sigh of resolution, Michael braved the weather and joined his friend on the blacktop.
“What are you doing out here, man? It’s way too fucking hot for this shit.”
Ryan merely shrugged in response and chased down his own rebound. “Feels good to me.”
Michael rolled his eyes at the simplistic answer, catching the ball and holding it pinned against his hip after Ryan made his next shot. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, or are you going to continue this bizarre silent treatment you’ve been punishing me with lately.”
Oh, thought Ryan, so he has noticed. Things had become strained between the two friends for the past several weeks. It wasn’t like they had fought out-right or anything. They hadn’t even done anything rude or inconsiderate to each other; they just steered clear of each other when they didn’t have to play nice in front of the team and their coaches. Okay, maybe Ryan was a little jealous when Mike decided to hang out with some of the Stanford water polo players instead of heading into the city with the rest of the group while they trained in Palo Alto. And maybe his jealously grew even more when Michael suggested they go watch one of their games between practices. Ryan, of course, went with the rest of the team, but made sure to sit at least three feet away from Michael out of defiance. Really, Ryan didn’t have any reason to be mad since it wasn’t like Michael had any idea that Ryan even liked him like that. Except for maybe that one time they went out in Shanghai, and Ryan maybe got a little too drunk, and maybe he tried to kiss Michael.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I talk to you like, just as much as everyone else.”
“Except not,” Michael stated, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.
“Except, yeah. So you should just like, go back inside or something and let me finish my game,” Ryan insisted, moving to knock the ball out of Michael’s grip. He grunted in frustration when Michael simply moved to the side, causing him to tumble forward a bit.
“Oh, you mean the game you’ve been playing all by yourself for like, the past half hour?”Michael asked snidely.
“Have you been spying on me?”
“No…”Michael hesitated, blinking in surprise when a raindrop fell into his eyes. “No, the court just happened to be in my line of sight.”
“What? Are you spazzing out on me now, Phelps?” Ryan questioned when Michael flinched as another drop hit his face. Before Michael could even answer, the Floridian was pelted with his own array of rain drops. “C’mon, dude. We should go inside.”
“No,” Michael said resolutely, gripping his friend’s wrist tightly to keep him stationary. “We have to talk about this. I miss my friend and I really don’t even know what I did wrong to make you all weird around me.”
“I’m not being all weird. I just- I just have some shit to deal with. And can we please just go inside? You may not care, but I’ve spent enough time sick at this meet, and I’d rather not lose another gold because of you.”
“Of course I care, Ryan,” Michael affirmed as he took a step closer to Ryan, his USA swimming shirt beginning to darken and stick to his body as the rain continued. “I wish I could have been there to help take care of you-”
“But?” Ryan interrupted impatiently, his curls dripping with excess water.
“But I thought you just didn’t want me there,” Michael admitted with a small shrug. “I would have done anything…” Michael trailed off, finding a set of slick and sensuous lips pressed to his own. His body reacted instinctively and his hands came to rest on Ryan’s hips, drawing the shorter swimmer in closer as he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss. Ryan tasted so pure and minty, and his tongue was doing things Michael had only imagined were possible. With a pout of reluctance he finally pulled away to find a smirk on Ryan’s mouth. “What?”
“You think we can go have hot sex now, like Ryan Gosling and that chick from The Notebook?”
The day Ryan and Michael said “I love you” for the first time.
The warning signs had been following Ryan everywhere. When he stopped by the bank to make a withdrawal for his drive back home to Gainesville, he was nearly toppled over by a strong gust of wind. On his way out from the supermarket he was drenched by the torrential downpour in the short distance to his car. During the trip back to his parent’s house after running all of his errands that morning, a tree came crashing down on top of some utility wires lining the road.
“Dad, I think that weather guy was right about this hurricane,” Ryan said nonchalantly as he restocked his parent’s refrigerator and pantry.
“You mean the part about how we’re actually having one, and you should have left for Gainesville yesterday?” Steve asked from his makeshift work station in the living room.
“Can you fault a guy for wanting to spend time with his family?”
“Are we going to continue this conversation of questions?”
Ryan navigated his way over plastic tarps and plywood to where his father was measuring the sliding glass door that lead to their balcony. “Here, let me help you, Dad,” Ryan offered, grabbing one of the hammers and a handful of nails. His father was probably the most laid-back guy he knew and for him to be so on edge meant that this storm was pretty serious, and nothing that he should be joking about.
Steve let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’m sorry, son. I’m just really worried about the house and all of you kids. We’ve never been hit this hard and they’re only saying that it’s going to get worse.”
“It’s okay, Pops,” Ryan assured with a soft pat on his father’s back. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“First thing is we’ve got to finish getting these windows secured-”
“Hold that thought, ”Ryan interjected, stepping away from the noise of his dad's construction, coupled with the frantic reporters on the Weather Channel. “Hey, Mike. Can I call you back?”
“Are you okay?”
“What? Yeah, of course I’m okay. What would make you think otherwise?”
“I was just watching the news and they said that Hurricane Derek had made landfall and wasn’t too far from Daytona Beach.”
“Dude, don’t worry. We have everything on lock-down here and plenty of food-”
“Yeah, but-I mean, are you gonna be safe? Promise me you’ll be safe.”
“I’ll be safe, Mike,” Ryan swore, rushing over to help his father put the last piece of plywood into place. “Aren’t you supposed to be living the high-life in Peru or some shit?”
“More like Los Angeles, but sure, it’s pretty much the same thing,” Michael teased, thankful that at least Ryan was confident enough in his surroundings.
“Whatever, ass. Go have a good time and stop worrying.”
“I can’t help but worry.”
Ryan paused to blow a stray curl off of his forehead after stepping back from the window, feeling a sense of pride in the small bit of help he was able to provide. “Why would you-”
“I love you.”
The statement was so firm and unwavering that it almost caused Ryan to drop his hammer in shock. This storm must have really unnerved Michael to force him to be so open about how he felt. Expressing his emotions was very out of character for Michael.
“Please say something,” Michael mumbled after a few beats of silence.
“I love you, too,” Ryan breathed, unable to hide his smile after saying it.
“Say it again,” Michael pleaded and Ryan could practically hear his smile through the speaker.
“I love you, Michael,” Ryan said once more without any hesitation.
The day Ryan and Michael said “I do.”
“You have got to fucking be kidding me.”
“Huh? What?” Ryan asked as he sat up with a start. His face was covered with sleep lines, his curls were flying in every direction, and there might have even been the smallest smudge of drool on his chin. “What’s wrong?”
“The sidewalk is wet,” Michael stated, as if it should have been obvious to Ryan why he was upset.
“It’s fuckin’ like, four in the morning. You can’t even-”
“I can even. I can see that the sidewalk is wet. And so are the cars in the hotel parking lot. Which means that the tablecloths and the chair covers that were set up last night are ruined.” Michael sighed heavily, unable to see the beauty in the reflection of the city lights against the droplets of water clinging to his hotel room window through his frustration.
Ryan groaned in annoyance at being woken up for something so minor, but fulfilled his boyfriend duties by dragging himself out of bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist and joining his fiancé at the window. He wrapped his arms tightly around Michael’s slim waist and placed a kiss on the back of his neck before hooking his chin over the taller man’s shoulder. “Well then it’s a good thing that we spent thousands of dollars on a wedding planner to fix stuff like that, right?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No… mocking you would be if I suggested we play that Alanis Morrisette song while you walked down the aisle. Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Ryan chided with an impish grin, knowing full well that the last thing Michael needed was to be made fun of.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, but you still love me. Besides, it’s the middle of April in the Pacific Northwest. How could you not expect it to be raining?”
“I thought it just rained a lot in Seattle,” Michael said with a pout, turning in his boyfriend’s arms to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.
“Baby, clouds don’t just stop at international borders,” Ryan corrected, his fingers sliding along Michael’s spine lightly. “Aren’t spring showers supposed to be like, romantic or something?”
“Well, they’re supposed to disappear on our wedding day.” Michael couldn’t stop the shivers or the reaction he was having below the waist from Ryan’s tender caresses. “And it’s not romantic when the rain messes up really expensive material.”
“Yeah, but think about the good stuff that comes with rain. Like how pretty the grass and the flowers are gonna look with the dew everywhere. And I mean, I don’t know about you, but I love the smell right after it rains…”
“You would, Lochte,” Michael said grimly.
“Stop being such a Debbie Downer. Everything will be fine. I promise.” Ryan leaned up to seal his vow with a kiss, mumbling against Michael’s lips. “Now come back to bed and make love to me one last time as my fiancé,” he persuaded, leading them both away from the window.
The day Ryan and Michael brought their son home.
Ryan’s entire body shivered as he entered the Baltimore home he shared with Michael. He slowly peeled off each layer of clothing and kicked off his winter boots, leaving his jacket hanging on the back of a dining room chair to dry. The ride home from the grocery store had been nothing short of treacherous. Ice and half-melted snow on the ground made driving dangerous, and of course there was a multitude of idiots attempting to brave the conditions without chains on their tires.
“Baby, where are you?” Ryan called out as he gathered the bags in his hands, trudging up the stairs to the nursery. He found his husband standing at the window watching the blinking Christmas lights their neighbors had just hung up the night before with their newborn son, Riley, cradled in his arms.
“Hi,” Michael mouthed, stepping back into the room, kissing Ryan softly. “I finally got him to fall asleep.”
Ryan nodded in silence, causing his cold nose to nuzzle against Michael’s, laughing quietly when his husband pulled away. He lifted the bags as a signal that he had bought everything he’d been sent for and placed them in the corner of the room. With a kiss goodnight from each of his dads, Riley was placed into his crib and left to sleep for a few hours.
Afterwards, Michael busied himself with making hot chocolate for himself and Ryan, grinning when his partner joined him in the kitchen in his flannel pajamas.
“I will never get used to this freezing rain shit. What does freezing rain even mean, really? Why don’t they just call it ice that falls from the sky?” Ryan complained, taking the proffered mug and blowing on the hot drink.
“Hmmm… too wordy.”
“Yeah, well… the next time you forget to buy baby supplies, you have to go out in the crazy ass weather and buy them yourself. I don’t care how good of a blow job you promise me, I ain’t ever doing it again,” Ryan vowed, sipping from his mug carefully. “Mmm, which reminds me, I better have the best fuckin’ orgasm of my life after having to beat down this crazy lady for the last package of diapers. Can we also please talk about the fact that you forgot to buy diapers for our son that we just brought home?”
Michael waited patiently for his husband to finish his tirade before defending himself. “I got distracted,” he said meekly, offering up the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he could muster as penance for his mistake.
“Oh right, how silly am I to forget how important Lacoste baby bibs would be for a kid whose willing to puke on almost anything?”
“This is coming from the guy who wanted to buy a Louis Vuitton baby bag,” Michael stated, the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly.
“That shit is important. Just because we’re married with a kid now, that doesn’t mean we can’t be-” Ryan was silenced rather effectively by Michael’s mouth, his tongue soothing away the complaints Ryan still had piled up in the back of his mind. “Fuck it,” he mumbled, reaching behind him blindly to put his mug down.
Once Ryan’s drink was securely in place, Michael maneuvered him back against the fridge with a soft thud, his hands quickly untying the strings to Ryan’s pajama bottoms. He had them, along with Ryan’s underwear pushed down to his thighs and he was just on his way to his knees when a loud cry came over the baby monitor.
“Shit,” Ryan moaned breathlessly, taking a minute to clear his head. “What did you do?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything,” Michael claimed innocently, his hand still positioned on Ryan’s hardening cock. “Do you think he heard us having sex?” he whispered.
“Maybe you should stop asking questions and we should go check up on him?” Ryan suggested, pulling up his pants with a twinge of regret before following Michael up to the nursery. “Do you think he’s hungry?”
“Nah, it feels like he needs a new diaper.”
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest with his hip cocked to the side, standing in front of the newly purchased package of diapers. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“You know what.”
“I’m not gonna- fine,” Michael sighed, shifting Riley to his other hip. “You are the most amazing husband of all time and I promise to love you forever and give you the most amazing blowjobs whenever you want them.”
“Thank you,” Ryan replied happily with a soft kiss. “See, your old man doesn’t ask for much now, does he, Riley?” he added over his shoulder while he set up the changing table.
The day Ryan said goodbye to Michael.
“Grandpa? Are you almost ready?”
Ryan turned from the approaching black rain clouds to face his youngest granddaughter, Chloe. “Almost, babygirl. Tell your parents I’ll be inside in a minute,” Ryan requested timidly, offering her a smile amidst the sorrow on his face.
July 17th; the day he was forced to bury his husband after living together through nearly forty years of marriage. They had been through so many trials and tribulations, so much joy and triumph, and now Ryan was forced to sit on their porch alone. He was left with so many memories of the life they shared and nobody to remember them with.
*
“How are you feeling today, baby?” Ryan asked quietly, knowing that any harsh stimulation would cause his husband undue pain.
“Okay, I guess,” Michael struggled to breathe out as he sat up in his bed.
“Just okay? I thought that we Lochte-Phelps never did just okay,” Ryan teased, sitting beside Michael in his hospital bed.
Michael managed a small laugh, hoping it wouldn’t turn into another fit of chest-wrenching coughs. “Maybe when we were 20, but now… now I’ll settle for just okay,” he reasoned, leaning into Ryan’s gentle embrace when he joined him on the bed. “I can feel it, you know? Death.”
“That’s crazy,” Ryan insisted with a vehement shake of his head, fighting back the tears he knew would be coming. “You’re way too young for any of that talk. Besides, the O’Donnells would be pissed if we missed their grandson’s baptism.”
Neither of them may have wanted to admit it, but they both knew that what Michael had said was true. The treatment had stopped working and now the cancer was rapidly eating away his body’s organs. His doctor had given only a month to live, and that was two weeks ago.
“I don’t want to leave you either, Ry. I want to watch our grandchildren grow up and get married. I want to be there when our son becomes president of his company. I want to see you finally go under par on the golf course,” Michael added with a chuckle. “But I know I can’t be here forever.”
“Stop it, Michael. Stop saying these things. I can’t say goodbye to you. I can’t let you go. You promised me you would never leave me,” Ryan begged, his tears flowing freely now.
“It’s not a goodbye, Ryan,” Michael said through his labored breathing. “It’s more like a ‘see you later.’ Then again, you just may not make it to heaven with all of the shit you’ve pulled.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on Michael. “Please, God and I have an understanding. If I promised to take care of you for the rest of our lives, I could into get as much trouble as I wanted.”
“Mmmm… whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Speaking of sleep, you should get some rest. Jack and his girlfriend fly in tomorrow and you know how she likes to talk.”
Michael nodded his assent and nuzzled into Ryan’s neck, both men quickly giving way to their exhaustion. It was the last time they would fall asleep in each other’s arms.
*
Ryan stood over Michael’s grave, staring down into the dark abyss his coffin was currently being lowered into. He sighed heavily, wrapping an arm around Chloe as she stepped up beside him, tossing her flower in to join the others.
“Do you think that when heaven is done with Grandpa Mike, we can have him back?” she asked in her small, shy voice.
Ryan took a deep breath to hold in his sob, glancing up at the sky to blink away his tears. "I don't know for sure, sweetheart. But I really hope that we do. I miss him..." In that instant, the clouds released a downpour of warm summer rain, mingling with the tears Ryan could no longer hide on his cheeks. He closed his eyes and let the droplets wash away his pain and heartache, forgetting the generations of friends and family that surrounded him. “See you later, baby,” he whispered to nobody in particular, content to know that somewhere Mike was listening.