Fic-Post: Broken (Swimming RPS)
Title: Broken
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,012
Summary: Ryan has broken his leg
Disclaimer: I don't think so
Author's Note: Prompt-fill for lillyluna Ryan breaks his leg and Michael takes care of him. Bonus points for really bitchy Ryan and slightly exasperated Michael.
Also for sparkagrace and maeir who co-signed it :)
I truly hope this is at least something like what you guys had in mind. Also, sorry this took me forever.
Michael is pretty sure there is nothing about Ryan Lochte that can surprise him. He’s known him for an eternity (okay, eight years, but he’s a guy, so it basically is an eternity) and he’s been dating him for half of that time. There is nothing that can throw him off when it comes to his boyfriend. He knows about nude photos and about chugging beer out of Frisbees and pretty much everything in between.
And then he gets a call from Devon.
“So … uhm … maybe you should come down.”
“Oh god, what did he do?” Michael closes his eyes and drops his head with a heavy sigh.
“He … uhm … well … he … Ryanbrokehisleg.” Devon stutters through the beginning and mumbles out the rest and Michael has no idea what he just said.
“What?”
“Ryan broke his leg.”
“WHAT?!”
“We were just messing around, man, I swear. We found this awesome skatepark and I was on the BMX and Ry was on his skateboard and … I totally didn’t mean it.”
“You broke my boyfriend’s leg?” Michael can’t help raising his voice. He hears Ryan’s name and the words ‘broken’ and ‘leg’ in the same sentence - raising his voice is a reflex.
“Pretty sure him being my brother sorta trumps him being your boyfriend.”
“Devon …”
“Okay okay. He fell. Hit his elbow pretty hard. And he never wears his elbow pads, so I went to check on him and I skidded when I wanted to stop … I’m no expert on the BMX, okay? … And anyway, his leg was … sorta there when I landed and suddenly there was a cracking sound and … yeah.”
And right then Michael checks halfway out of the conversation. Devon keeps babbling something into his ear, but Michael has already fumbled his credit card out of his wallet and gets ready to book a flight until …
“Is he in G-Ville or …?” Because what if it’s a complicated fracture and they had to transfer him to some high-class hotshot hospital someplace else?
“No, he’s here.”
Michael clicks a few buttons. “I’ll get into Orlando tonight.”
“Orlando? Are you getting a car or …?”
“I’m getting a car, I’ll probably need it anyway. I gotta go, Dev, see ya.”
Devon doesn’t even get to answer, because Michael hangs up before he even finishes the sentence. Next he calls Peter and tells him to cancel everything he’s scheduled for during the next few weeks, not offering much of an explanation other than “Just do it, I’ll explain later!” He then calls his mom and tells her she needs to pick up the dogs, that he can’t bring them over, because he has like two hours to get onto a plane to Florida “Because Ryan, mom!”
Michael had no time to freak out between getting Devon’s call and making it onto the plane. He just packed some things and got to the airport and made sure to not get killed or kill others with the way he was driving on the way there. But then he falls into his seat on the plane and suddenly it settles in his brain that Ryan broke his leg. But what about the rest of him? Devon would’ve said if there was anything else, right? And how bad was Ryan’s leg? And shit, what about swimming? How long would Ryan be out? Could he even still swim? What if not? Oh god, Devon was so absolutely dead if he ended Ryan’s career because he thought he could get around on a BMX.
By the time Michael touches down in Orlando, he is insane with worry and all he wants is to know is if Ryan is okay. He hits Ryan’s speed dial as soon as the wheels of the plane touch ground.
“Hey lover.”
Michael exhales in relief. He can’t even reply at first, so glad to hear Ryan’s voice. He doesn’t sound like himself, more like he’d just woken up or like he has a cold. But he’s there and he’s talking and for now, that’s all that matters to Michael.
“Mike?”
“I’m here. I’m here, sorry. How are you?”
“Leg hurts. Dev said you’re coming down?”
“I’ve just landed. But I’m in Orlando. I’ll be a while.”
“I might be asleep when you get here. They’ve wanted to give me something for the pain for an hour now, but they’re gonna knock me out and I wanna be awake when you get here. But I don’t think I can, like, keep them hanging much longer or they’ll force those suckers down my throat.”
“Take the damn pills, Ryan. I’ll be there when you wake up.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
Ryan sighs. “Swimmer’s honor.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Love you, Ryan.”
“Love you too.”
Michael lets out another relieved sigh after he finishes the call. Ryan is fine. Or well, fine enough to have his phone at the hospital with him. And fine enough to be stubborn about medication. Michael gets off the plane tired and aching all over and he really just wants to get to Ryan as fast as possible. He waits for his luggage and just as he heads over to the desk of the car rental company, there’s a tap to his shoulder. He turns around and looks into the face of Kristin Lochte.
“Oh. Hey there Kris.”
“Hey Mike.” She gives him a hug. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I didn’t … I had no idea you were coming.”
“Ryan made sure I’ll come and get you. That all you have?” She points at Michael’s suitcase and Michael nods. “Right, let’s go then. You wanna get some food or a shower first or?”
“Can you just drop me off at the hospital right away?”
Kristin smiles. “Sure.”
Michael visibly tenses the closer they get to Gainesville. His legs twitch, he drums his fingers on the panelling on the door and he checks his phone every two minutes.
“He’s fine, Michael.” Kristin says, softly smiling at him.
“Is it bad?”
“It’s a clean break. Devon fell on his leg and managed to just snap both bones. Good news is that there’s no major damage to the ligaments. So they’re just gonna, like, get in there, fixate the bones and then slap on a cast. He’ll have to stay off the leg for a while, cast comes off in six to eight weeks and then Ry can start physiotherapy.”
“Is he gonna swim again?”
“Doctors are hopeful, yeah. They know what he’s like.”
And Michael actually laughs a little at that. Because yeah, if hospitals gave out punchcards, Ryan would have filled a few of those by now.
A bit over two hours later, they reach the hospital. Kristin tells Michael where to find Ryan before she tells him goodbye, waits for Michael to get his stuff out of the trunk, and drives home.
Michael hates hospitals. Okay, he’s pretty sure no one actually loves them anyway, but it was just this weird silence and the odd smells that have always irked him. Going through a hospital was like watching a horror movie, you never know what kind of gross things you’ll see every time you round a corner or accidentally get a peek through an open door.
Ryan’s on the orthopaedic floor. Michael gets off the elevator and looks around. The light is bright and the floors are empty and it silent apart from a ringing phone somewhere. Michael turns right and checks the numbers next to the door. Ryan’s room is almost at the end of the hallway. He takes a deep breath before he opens the door, preparing himself for all things possible.
The room is dark apart from the light on the little nightstand by the bed. There are no curtains or blinds on the window and Michael can see the reflection of the entire room in the window.
Ryan is laying on the bed, his back propped up by a few pillows. He’s wearing one of those ridiculous hospital-gowns and Michael is sure he must have put up one hell of a fight before the nurses got him to put on that thing. He’s covered with a sheet from the waist down, but his left leg is sticking out from underneath it, some sort of foam-tube around it to keep it in place. It’s swollen and bruised what looks like all over his shin and calf and Michael automatically hurts as well. There’s one of those pegs on Ryan’s finger to check the oxygen level in his blood, but he isn’t hooked to any other machine. His head is tipped to the side and he’s asleep, breathing softly.
Ike is sitting in a chair next to the bed, asleep with a book on her chest. She wakes up as Michael closes the door, immediately alert, but relaxing when she sees who has arrived.
“Hey Ike.” Michael whispers.
“Michael.” She smiles relieved, but looks exhausted.
Michael gets another chair and sits down next to Ike who takes hold of his hand right away.
“How is he?”
“Stupid, that’s how.” she replies, “I swear, those boys are gonna kill my last nerve. If Brandon turns out like this one, I’m gonna give him up for adoption before it’s too late.”
Michael chuckles softly. “How long has he been asleep?”
Ike checks her watch. “About an hour? He wanted to stay awake until you got here, but he was in so much pain.”
Michael feels a pang to the chest. He doesn’t want to think about Ryan being in pain. “Kris said something about … uhm … surgery?”
“Yeah. They’ll go in tomorrow, first thing in the morning. That’s when they know for sure what exactly they’re dealing with. Of course it’d be easier to just fixate the breaks with a few screws and a cast, but they might be able to go without the screws and just re-align the bones and let nature do its way.”
“What does he wanna do?”
“He just wants to get back into the water, whichever way.”
Michael knew the answer before he even asked the question. Ryan may have been all, ‘If something happens then that’s a sign that maybe I wasn’t meant to do this’, but Michael knows him. A broken leg is not the way Ryan Lochte has had in mind for the end of his swimming-career, so he’ll most likely move heaven and hell to not let it get this far.
“Do you, like … do you wanna go home? I’m gonna stay here.” Michael offers.
Ike shakes her head. “I’m fine.” She points to the table by the window. “The nurse brought over some pillows and blankets, help yourself. There’s a vending machine at the end of the hallway, but the night nurse said if we want real coffee, we can ask her.”
Michael smiles.
“And now tell me, how’s your mom, Michael?”
They chat lightly for a while, always having an eye and ear on Ryan sleeping in the bed next to them. Ike falls asleep shortly after midnight and Michael goes to cover her with a blanket before he gets out his laptop and watches a movie. He’s asleep before the film is halfway through.
*
It’s six in the morning when Michael rudely gets awoken by a nurse bursting through the door. He blinks his eyes open, squinting against the bright daylight, and sees Ike stretching in the chair next to his. By some sort of miracle, Ryan is still asleep.
“Rise and shine, everybody!” the nurse chirps and Michael wants to strangle her, just for her good mood alone.
The nurse moves around the bed and gets Ryan’s arm through a sling to check his blood pressure. The movement wakes him up. He tries to turn his body to his side, a reflex when he wakes up, and immediately winces. Michael does it with him.
“Motherfuckshit!” Ryan curses, suddenly wide awake.
Ike slaps him on the shoulder. “Language!”
Ryan snaps his head to the side, towards the voice. He sees Michael and his face immediately softens and relaxes a little.
“Mike.”
“Hey baby.” He reaches for Ryan’s hand and kisses his fingers and knuckles.
“How are you this morning, Ryan?” the nurse interrupts bright and alert and seriously, could this woman just turn the chipper down a notch?
Ryan turns back around to her. “Last I checked my leg was broken. So unless you have some bone-fixing leprechauns working nights at this place, I’m pretty sure that’s still the case. Take a wild guess at how I’m feeling.”
Ike slaps him again, this time to the back of his head. “Watch your mouth, mister!”
The nurse waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard worse. We’re getting a lot of athletes here, those guys are more creative with their insults than the ladies down at the delivery unit.” The blood pressure machine beeps and the nurse writes down the numbers on Ryan’s chart. “The doctors will be with you soon to go over the anaesthesiology and the surgery and everything. And unless there’s an emergency, you’re scheduled for 9am. But you’ll have to go in on an empty stomach because of the so make sure he doesn’t eat or drink anything but water.” She says the last part directed at Michael and Ike.
The nurse leaves and while Ike folds up the blankets, Ryan turns back around to Michael. He tugs on his hand and Michael gets the hint. He leans over and gives Ryan a gentle kiss.
“Dude, I’ve broken my legs, not my lips.”
“Your mom is here, Ryan.”
“Don’t care.” And Ryan pulls Michael and brings their lips together like that one kiss is the only thing to keep him alive right now. “When did you get here?” he asks as he’s pulling away, keeping Michael close to himself with a firm grip on the back of his neck.
“Last night, around 11. You were asleep. How’s Devon?”
“Little shit’s fine. Or well, he was yesterday. But Mom’s made him tell Dad what he did. And he had to call you.”
“Gregg and Matt as well.” Ike interrupts.
“So unless he’s been drowned in some pool, I guess Devon’s okay. I’m gonna make him pay though. Like, seriously. I’m not gonna move a fucking finger for the next few weeks.”
“What am I here for then?”
Ryan’s face lights up. “You’re staying?”
“Of course I’m staying.” And then he remembers. “Oh shit, I need to call my mom. And Peter. I just left yesterday, they don’t even know what’s going on.”
“You didn’t even call your mom?”
“No, I did, but … I had no idea how you were, I just told her I had to get here because of you.”
Ryan smiles. “I love you, you know that, right? You panic for no good reason, but I do love you.” Ryan pulls Michael close for another kiss. “Now go call your mom.”
Michael goes out into the hallway and calls home.
“Jesus Christ Michael, finally!”
“Sorry mom, I forgot. Ryan broke his leg and I just … my mind went blank.”
“Ryan did what? Oh my god, is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Or well, for now. They’re going to … he’s gonna have surgery later.” And it hits Michael then that, fuck, they’re going to cut open Ryan’s leg. Suddenly he finds it hard to breathe.
Debbie picks up on it immediately. “Honey, I’m sure it’s fine. The doctors there probably see several broken bones during the day. They know what they’re doing.”
“No, but … mom, what if …”
“No Michael,” Debbie interrupts sharply. “You are not even going to think about this! Ryan is going to be fine. Now go and give him a hug from me. And call again if you need anything, alright?”
“Yeah. Hey Mom?”
“Yes honey?”
“Can you call Peter? I just … he’s gonna want some gameplan or whatever and I just … I can’t deal with that right now.”
“Sure thing, honey. Bye. I love you.”
“Love you too, mom. Bye.”
Michael gets back into the room and as soon as he sits down, Ryan reaches for his hand again and as they talk about this and that with Ike and for a while, Michael almost forgets that they’re in a hospital and that Ryan is laying in this bed with a broken leg. He winces a little every time he tries to move a bit, but other than that, he seems to feel fine.
The doctors show up after half an hour. They have x-rays and medical records and they check Ryan’s chart as they’re explaining the surgery. Turns out that Devon falling on Ryan’s leg has basically snapped the bones in half (how he even did that, Michael doesn’t know, it’s not like Devon is a heavy guy). The doctors are confident that they can push the bones back into their usual position and that they will remain that way without further assistance of screws or metal plates or anything. But that means that Ryan cannot leave the hospital, the bed for that matter, for about two weeks, because every tiny movement can cause the bones to grow back together in the wrong way. He’ll also get hooked up to a catheter because he won’t even be allowed to get up to use the bathroom.
Ryan asks about swimming.
“You’ll have to undergo physiotherapy first. But even then we don’t know. You’ve broken two bones, Ryan. No matter how much time passes, those bones are always going to be more at risk then the ones in your other leg. I don’t doubt that you’ll be able to get back into the water, you can compete again if you do your exercises. But I can’t tell you for sure if you’ll ever be back to the level you were at before this has happened.”
“What if you just stick some screws in? Isn’t that, like, easier?”
“It means you’re out of here a lot sooner. And overall, the healing process is going to be faster.”
“Then we’ll do that!” Ryan interrupts.
“The thing with the screws is, we’re sort of … we’re being lazy, we’re doing things the easy way. You’re still young enough, you’re a healthy man. There is a good chance of complete recovery without putting some metal into your body. If we do put the screws in however, there may be some anomaly in the re-growing of the bone and you’ll probably be in pain every so often and a lot of conventional pain medication is forbidden by the US Doping Agency.”
Ryan groans and Michael can see the wheels turn in his head. Basically, he’s going to be damned, whatever option he’ll end up going for. On one hand, he may not be able to swim on a competitive level again, on the other hand he may be in serious pain every time he tries to.
Ryan looks at Michael. “What would you do?”
Michael shakes his head. “No, Ryan. I can’t make that decision for you.”
“I’m not asking you to, I just … I don’t know what to do.”
Michael looks back and forth between Ryan and Ike and the doctors. Suddenly it feels like they’re all depending on whatever he’s going to say next.
“You can only use pain to push you for so long before it gets unbearable. And … I mean … you work harder than anyone I know …”
“So no screws?”
“No screws.” Michael squeezes Ryan’s hand.
Without hesitation, Ryan turns to the doctors. “No screws.” he repeats Michael’s words.
“Right, so that’s what we’ll do. But please be aware that, should we notice that the bones won’t be able to stay in their original position on their own after we re-aligned them, we will have to put the screws in. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. As for anaesthesiology, we’re going to put you under completely, so you’ll be asleep. You may feel a little bit discomfort, a bit of dizziness, when you wake up, a bit like you’re drunk. There’s going to be a splint fastened to your leg so you will not be able to move it. The splint will also make your knee and ankle immobile. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. The procedure is pretty standard, so we expect to be in and out in under an hour.” The doctor turns to Michael and Ike. “You can come up to the surgical floor with him, but you will have to wait in the waiting area until Ryan wakes up from the anaesthesiology and then you can see him for a few minutes. He’ll be very out of it when he wakes up, probably won’t remember things you tell him or things he tells you, so just be prepared for that.”
“Okay.” Ike says and Michael nods. It is just a lot of information to take in.
The doctor turns back to Ryan “We’re gonna come back this afternoon, by that time you should be fully awake again. Then we can tell you how the surgery went and discuss your recovery. Do you have any other questions?”
Ryan shakes his head.
He gets handed a few forms to give his consent to the surgery. He signs them and then the doctors leave again.
The silence that settles in the room once the door falls close is unsettling. Ryan keeps staring at his leg like he wants to turn back time or make the bones grow back together just with the power of his mind. And Michael wishes he could just make sense of the whole thing. He has seen one person he cares about being defeated by an injury and he truly never wanted to go through that ever again.
“I’m gonna go call Steve, okay?” Ike says, getting out of her seat. “Need anything?” she adds, looking at Michael.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
Ike just smiles at them, gives Ryan a kiss to the cheek and leaves the room.
Michael really wants to stay calm. He doesn’t want to freak out in front of Ryan and make the whole thing even worse. But he’s sitting here and the love of his damned life is about to get his leg cut open and he’s looking at an uncertain future and Michael is just really mad right now.
“I’m going to kill Devon.” he grits out.
Ryan squeezes his hand. “It’s not his fault.”
“He went on a BMX when he knows he can’t ride it. He landed on your leg because he didn’t know how to break on a fucking bicycle. He broke your leg. How is this not his fault?”
“He feels bad enough, Mike. Like, when it happened, there was this … sound. Like, you could hear that something snapped. Made him almost pass out on the spot. I never heard him apologise for something so much. When he was here yesterday to tell me you were coming, like, he was so shaken up. I’ve never seen him like that, Mike. He knows he has fucked up. Like, if I can’t … you know, if I can’t come back from this-“
“Don’t even go there, Ryan. Don’t even think that. Of course you gonna come back.”
“Mike, I’m starting from scratch. At twenty-fucking-eight.”
Michael shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear that right now. “So fucking what? It’s not like you’ve never been injured. You promised me Ryan, remember? Back in London you promised to make things right. Beating LecClos. Beating Agnel. Beating Clary. ‘If you won’t be around to do it, I’ll do it for you.’ That’s what you fucking said. You never broke a promise to me, Ryan, and you’re not going to start doing that now.”
His tone is sharp and demanding and Ryan knows better than to argue.
Michael groans and rubs his forehead. He feels worn-out and exhausted. He just wants to close his eyes and open them and be next to Ryan in his big bed in his house in Gainesville. No broken bones, just a crazy nutjob of a dog who bumps his head against the mattress often enough for one of them to finally give up and let him out into the backyard. Michael wants the simplicity of being with Ryan. Everything always just fell into place when they were together. They never needed to hold anything together because it just was together. And now Michael is here in this blank hospital room and at some point yesterday, the entire world (his entire world anyway) decided to just give up and rest on his shoulders.
Ryan puts his hand on the back of Michael’s neck and pulls him down, so his head half-rests on Ryan’s hip. His thumb strokes along his skin. “Sorry, Mike.”
Michael slightly shakes his head. “Don’t. You did nothing wrong. Aside from maybe going to that skatepark.” And then he actually laughs a little and Ryan laughs with him.
For the first time since getting Devon’s call the day before, Michael actually feels like things are going to turn out just fine.
**
Two weeks later and Ryan’s back home. The surgery went well and he was allowed back home, leg in a cast from below his knee, with a recovery plan and several numbers of the best of the best on the field of physiotherapy.
Ryan is not allowed to properly move yet, he gets to hobble around the house on crutches if anything, so all through the day, he is either bound to the bed or the couch. He’s made Devon suffer for as long as possible, even made him get his phone when it was out of reach on the coffee table and he could’ve just stretched to get it. But now Devon is back in class and he has to go to work and Michael is left dealing with Ryan.
Ryan has always been a little obnoxious. It’s just part of his nature. He is loud and in your face and sometimes even a little smug. For him, it never is enough to be good at something, he wants to be the best at it. But all those character traits made him also one thing - impatient. He hates to wait for something. Slow process isn’t his thing. If he can’t improve on something, he does it repeatedly, in insane intervals, no stopping at anything, until he gets better at it.
Michael soon found out that when Ryan’s impatience collided with Ryan being rendered immobile by sickness, he is basically insufferable. He’s whiny and complains about everything under the sun.
Michael is just on his morning grocery run, a luxury he allows himself every two days so he won’t eventually rip Ryan’s head off, when his phone rings. Michael sighs and picks up, knowing immediately who’s going to be at the other end of the line.
“What is it?”
“Where are you?”
“Groceries. We ran out of cereal and some things.”
“Are you back soon?”
“I won’t be long baby, I promise. You okay?”
“I woke up and you weren’t there. I’m booooored.” He drags out the word for emphasis.
“Go back to sleep then.”
“My leg hurts.”
“Take your painkillers.”
Ryan groans. “I hate those fucking things.”
“Just …” Michael sighs. “Let Carter entertain you, okay? I’ll be home in a bit.”
“Hurry up?”
Ryan’s sad and almost pathetic tone makes Michael smile a bit, he can practically see Ryan pout into the phone. “I’ll be there in no time. I love you, baby.”
“Love you too.”
And Michael resents himself just a little, because he knows Ryan is perfectly capable of staying home unsupervised for a decent amount of time and that he’s blowing things way out of proportion, but he still picks up his pace as he’s making his way through the aisles.
Michael gets back to the house 15 minutes later. He dumps the groceries on the kitchen counter and makes his way up the stairs. “Babe, I’m home!”
“In here! Where else?” Comes the answer from the bedroom. Michael chooses to ignore the sarcastic tone that comes with it.
When Michael enters the room, Ryan’s on the bed, having Carter in somewhat of a headlock. He is blankly staring at the TV and aimlessly surfs through the channels. Upon seeing Michael, Ryan looks up and smiles. His hair is a mess and his clothes are wrinkled from days of not being changed.
“Haven’t you showered?”
Ryan just points at his leg with his eyebrow raised.
“You can shower by yourself. The garbage bags for your cast are under the sink.”
“I don’t wanna shower by myself. What if I fall?”
“You broke your leg, how does that affect your balance?”
“It’s just … I just don’t wanna be alone. And I like it when we shower together.” He wriggles his eyebrows and grins.
“You’re scared of falling over and you wanna have shower sex?”
“I can’t fall over if you’re holding onto me?”
“Your seduction techniques are just on point today.”
Ryan smiles at him. “I love you?”
Michael smiles back, leaning down to Ryan. “I love you too.” He gives him a short kiss.
Ryan grabs the front of Michael’s t-shirt to hold him in place while Carter sees his chance to bail and slips out of Ryan’s grasp and jumps off the bed.
“See?” Michael says as he slowly lowers himself onto the mattress next to Ryan. “Even your dog escapes your smell.”
“He just knows when I need my privacy.”
“Oh you need privacy? I think I’ll just leave you to it then.” He moves to get back up, but Ryan keeps a strong hold on him.
“Don’t you dare.”
Ryan and Michael end up staying in bed for most of the day, Ryan never making it into the shower after all.
*
Another two weeks later, Ryan is halfway through the time he has to wear the cast on his leg. And if Michael thought he’d seen the worst of Ryan’s impatience before, he gets taught a new lesson pretty much every day.
Ryan spends most of his time moping on the couch, angrily punching the buttons on his Xbox-controller. He’s gained weight and lost a lot of muscles because he eats away his boredom. In fact, food is about the only thing that can even bribe him into leaving the bed on some days.
Michael doesn’t really know what else to do. He understands Ryan’s frustration completely and he wants for him to feel better, but he knows that until Ryan is free of the cast, there isn’t really anything he can do to make him feel better. He has bought him a few sharpies so Ryan could draw on his cast and that had been a truly entertaining few hours until Ryan could no longer reach the back of the cast and was left with an unfinished art work. And obviously that just added to his generally foul mood.
Ryan knows nothing about his situation is Michael’s fault and that he should be grateful Michael is still hanging around in Gainesville playing nurse when he could be back home in Baltimore or enjoying retired life at some tropical location. But he sees Michael move around freely while he is trapped on his couch and it just endlessly pisses him off.
They don’t fight, but sometimes Ryan can tell Michael wants to get into it. Wants to yell at him and tell him to get a grip on himself, because a broken leg is not the end of the world. But before Michael can say something he may regret later on, he tends to slip out of the room, put some swim trunks on and take care of things in the pool. Which is an approach that usually helps, because it gives them both time to cool off.
That one night, it doesn’t help though.
Michael comes back into the house, drying off his hair as he walks past the couch Ryan is lounging on. He attempts running his fingers along Ryan’s neck as he’s walking past, but Ryan’s moving out of the way, not taking his eye off the game he’s currently playing.
Michael stops. “You okay?”
“No?”
Michael sighs. “Why?”
Ryan pauses the game and looks up at Michael. “Because I am sitting here with a fucking broken leg and you have nothing better to do than go swim in my pool and rub it into my face.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve broken your leg, dude.”
“I know it’s not but show a little sympathy, man. Do you know how much it sucks to get into bed with you every night with you smelling of chlorine? It’s like you’re waving it in my face that you can still swim and kick ass at it, but won’t, while I wanna swim and fucking can’t.”
“Show a little sympathy? I have shown you nothing but for the past month, Ryan. I’ve made you food and helped you into the shower and I take your dog out for a walk. All things you could do perfectly well on your own if I may add, but you won’t do them. I do everything because I love you and all you do is mope and complain and throw an everyday pity-party. So please excuse me for wanting to enjoy one thing by myself, think you can do that?”
“If you can find something else to enjoy, then yes.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Are you trying to tell me what to like and what not to like just so you can continue sulking on the couch?”
Ryan just shrugs.
“Okay, fine.”
Michael heads upstairs and a few minutes later, he is back, fully dressed.
“I’m gonna be at Conor’s.”
And right as he finishes his sentence, he door has already slammed close behind him and all that Ryan can do is toss his controller into the general direction of the TV.
A short while later Michael flops down onto Conor’s couch and drinks the beer Conor is not allowed to drink because he has to get to practise in the morning. He lets Conor show him some episodes of this TV-show he’s into and before he knows it, it’s 2am and Michael is watching his way through the first season of ‘Suits’ while Conor has long gone to bed. He falls asleep eventually and gets woken up the next morning when Conor returns from practise.
“How far did you get?” Conor points at the DVD-case on the coffee table.
“Almost done.”
Conor grins. “Addictive, isn’t it?”
“Dude, it’s so good.”
Conor sits down on the couch. “So … Ryan hasn’t called.”
“I didn’t expect him to.”
“Are you guys alright?”
Michael waves it off. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. He just needs to get over himself. And his butt of the couch.”
Conor just looks at him pointedly.
“What?”
“You realise you’re saying that when you’ve left a pretty impressive dent on my couch because you literally have not moved since you got here yesterday.”
“That’s -“
“Different? No, it’s not. He’s moping on the couch and you’re moping on the couch and both of you could be much better off if you’d just get off both your butts and did something together.”
“There’s really not that much that Ryan can do.”
Conor snorts. “You sound like him.”
Michael just looks at him darkly.
“You do though. Like, open your eyes, both of you. There’s plenty of stuff you can do. Go see a movie, take a walk with the dogs, see Matt and do some bench-pressing. For crying out loud, have sex for two days straight, for all I care. Just do something together and don’t pretend like a broken leg is the end of the world.”
“Ryan hates the crutches.”
“Well tough shit. He’s going to have to get used to them. He’s not going to magically be able to skip around when they take the cast off.”
Michael huffs out a laugh.
“And you need to stop taking his bullshit. Ryan’s a grown-up. He can take care of himself. Bust his balls a little, he can take it.” Conor then stands back up. “Well, I’m going to have a shower. And you’re welcome to dent in my couch some more, but really, if you have to dent in a couch, we both know that you should do it to a different one.”
Conor smiles at him and heads for his bathroom and when Michael hears the shower running, he realises that really, he is no better than Ryan right now, sitting around and feeling a little sorry for himself.
*
When Michael gets back to the house, the blinds are closed and it’s silent. He listens up if he can hear Carter roam around anywhere and picks up on something coming from the backyard. He peeks outside and sees Carter running around the yard and then spots Ryan sitting on one of the deckchairs, reading a book.
He slides open the door and slips outside, immediately being greeted by Carter. Ryan looks up and lets the book sink when he sees it’s Michael.
“Catching up on your reading?” Michael nods at the book in Ryan’s hand.
“It’s Devon’s. He needs to read it for school, but he’s picking up a shift at the bar tonight.”
“You’re doing your brother’s homework?”
“Not because I want to. But Dev said if I keep sitting on my ass all day, I may as well do something useful.” He puts the book aside and looks up at Michael. “Had fun at Conor’s?”
“Just sat around and watched TV.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Really now?”
“Yeah. I know. “ he sits down next to Ryan legs and taps his hand against the cast. “Sorry for just leaving.”
Ryan shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just like, … God, how do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Being retired. How are you not going insane?”
Michael just shrugs.
“Like, seriously dude. I’m about to sniff chlorine or drink the pool-water or some shit. I just wanna get back in there.” He frantically points at the pool. “Like, it kinda sucks that Carter knows how to swim, because I’m this fucking close to throw him in the pool and then jump in to save him, so I can tell the doc I had no other choice.”
Michael laughs. “You’re insane.”
“Withdrawal, man. Makes you do stupid shit.” He pauses, “Like going off at the guy who put his own life on hold to cater to your every need.” Ryan reaches for Michael’s hand. “I’m really sorry. Like, I don’t even know what to say to make it better.”
Michael squeezes Ryan’s hand. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You’re doing everything for me and instead of saying thank you or doing the things I can do on my own, I’m bitching at you for going swimming. And like, dude, I’m lost without you. I wanted to come to Conor’s last night to apologize, but Devon wouldn’t drive me. He said I can’t just expect people doing shit for me just because I have the cast and if he was you, he wouldn’t even come back.”
“And this from the guy who got you into this mess.”
“Right? I got like no sympathy-cards left with anyone.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Doesn’t that count as a sympathy-card?”
Ryan smiles. “Thank you. Really, I mean it. Thank you for being here.” He sits up and scoots forward until he’s close enough to kiss Michael tenderly. He pulls back a little, slightly biting on Michael’s bottom lip. “Now do you think you can help me get inside because I’m hungry and I’m going to get an ugly as fuck tan from this stupid cast.”
Michael chuckles. “Where are your crutches?”
“Uhm …” Ryan sheepishly points at the pool.
“You threw your crutches in? In an attempt to jump in to save them or …?”
“No, I just can’t stand to see those fucking things.”
“Sorry to say babe, but you gonna have to get used to them.”
Ryan lets out a whining sound.
“How about we’ll get you inside and you can get started on dinner while I go get changed and get your crutches out of the pool? I mean, if you don’t mind?”
“Will you dry off after?”
“Should I? I mean, I’ll be all wet and chlorine-y and …”
Ryan kisses him again. “God, please don’t judge me on this, but what you just said is like dirty talk to me right now.”
Michael can’t help but laugh against Ryan’s lips. “You are so weird.” He helps Ryan to stand up and then lets him support his weight on his shoulders as he hobbles back into the house. And just as Michael’s steering them towards the kitchen, Ryan stops him.
“You said something about wet and chlorine-y.”
“You said something about being hungry.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I can work up some more appetite.”
Ryan then lets go off Michael and, with a slightly pained face, moves across the room towards the staircase, holding onto the furniture on the way. Michael just stares. This is the most Ryan has moved on his own in the past few weeks.
When he reaches the bottom of the staircase, Ryan turns back around to Michael. “Okay, so I’m somehow going to get up there, but I think I do need a little motivation. So how about you’ll finally get changed and then go get my crutches?” He grins.
Michael grins back and makes his way to the stairs but before he makes his way upstairs, he stops in front of Ryan. “For the record, we are going to add this to your physical therapy plan, just so you know.” he says and dashes up the stairs, already taking off his t-shirt as he does.
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,012
Summary: Ryan has broken his leg
Disclaimer: I don't think so
Author's Note: Prompt-fill for lillyluna Ryan breaks his leg and Michael takes care of him. Bonus points for really bitchy Ryan and slightly exasperated Michael.
Also for sparkagrace and maeir who co-signed it :)
I truly hope this is at least something like what you guys had in mind. Also, sorry this took me forever.
Michael is pretty sure there is nothing about Ryan Lochte that can surprise him. He’s known him for an eternity (okay, eight years, but he’s a guy, so it basically is an eternity) and he’s been dating him for half of that time. There is nothing that can throw him off when it comes to his boyfriend. He knows about nude photos and about chugging beer out of Frisbees and pretty much everything in between.
And then he gets a call from Devon.
“So … uhm … maybe you should come down.”
“Oh god, what did he do?” Michael closes his eyes and drops his head with a heavy sigh.
“He … uhm … well … he … Ryanbrokehisleg.” Devon stutters through the beginning and mumbles out the rest and Michael has no idea what he just said.
“What?”
“Ryan broke his leg.”
“WHAT?!”
“We were just messing around, man, I swear. We found this awesome skatepark and I was on the BMX and Ry was on his skateboard and … I totally didn’t mean it.”
“You broke my boyfriend’s leg?” Michael can’t help raising his voice. He hears Ryan’s name and the words ‘broken’ and ‘leg’ in the same sentence - raising his voice is a reflex.
“Pretty sure him being my brother sorta trumps him being your boyfriend.”
“Devon …”
“Okay okay. He fell. Hit his elbow pretty hard. And he never wears his elbow pads, so I went to check on him and I skidded when I wanted to stop … I’m no expert on the BMX, okay? … And anyway, his leg was … sorta there when I landed and suddenly there was a cracking sound and … yeah.”
And right then Michael checks halfway out of the conversation. Devon keeps babbling something into his ear, but Michael has already fumbled his credit card out of his wallet and gets ready to book a flight until …
“Is he in G-Ville or …?” Because what if it’s a complicated fracture and they had to transfer him to some high-class hotshot hospital someplace else?
“No, he’s here.”
Michael clicks a few buttons. “I’ll get into Orlando tonight.”
“Orlando? Are you getting a car or …?”
“I’m getting a car, I’ll probably need it anyway. I gotta go, Dev, see ya.”
Devon doesn’t even get to answer, because Michael hangs up before he even finishes the sentence. Next he calls Peter and tells him to cancel everything he’s scheduled for during the next few weeks, not offering much of an explanation other than “Just do it, I’ll explain later!” He then calls his mom and tells her she needs to pick up the dogs, that he can’t bring them over, because he has like two hours to get onto a plane to Florida “Because Ryan, mom!”
Michael had no time to freak out between getting Devon’s call and making it onto the plane. He just packed some things and got to the airport and made sure to not get killed or kill others with the way he was driving on the way there. But then he falls into his seat on the plane and suddenly it settles in his brain that Ryan broke his leg. But what about the rest of him? Devon would’ve said if there was anything else, right? And how bad was Ryan’s leg? And shit, what about swimming? How long would Ryan be out? Could he even still swim? What if not? Oh god, Devon was so absolutely dead if he ended Ryan’s career because he thought he could get around on a BMX.
By the time Michael touches down in Orlando, he is insane with worry and all he wants is to know is if Ryan is okay. He hits Ryan’s speed dial as soon as the wheels of the plane touch ground.
“Hey lover.”
Michael exhales in relief. He can’t even reply at first, so glad to hear Ryan’s voice. He doesn’t sound like himself, more like he’d just woken up or like he has a cold. But he’s there and he’s talking and for now, that’s all that matters to Michael.
“Mike?”
“I’m here. I’m here, sorry. How are you?”
“Leg hurts. Dev said you’re coming down?”
“I’ve just landed. But I’m in Orlando. I’ll be a while.”
“I might be asleep when you get here. They’ve wanted to give me something for the pain for an hour now, but they’re gonna knock me out and I wanna be awake when you get here. But I don’t think I can, like, keep them hanging much longer or they’ll force those suckers down my throat.”
“Take the damn pills, Ryan. I’ll be there when you wake up.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
Ryan sighs. “Swimmer’s honor.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Love you, Ryan.”
“Love you too.”
Michael lets out another relieved sigh after he finishes the call. Ryan is fine. Or well, fine enough to have his phone at the hospital with him. And fine enough to be stubborn about medication. Michael gets off the plane tired and aching all over and he really just wants to get to Ryan as fast as possible. He waits for his luggage and just as he heads over to the desk of the car rental company, there’s a tap to his shoulder. He turns around and looks into the face of Kristin Lochte.
“Oh. Hey there Kris.”
“Hey Mike.” She gives him a hug. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I didn’t … I had no idea you were coming.”
“Ryan made sure I’ll come and get you. That all you have?” She points at Michael’s suitcase and Michael nods. “Right, let’s go then. You wanna get some food or a shower first or?”
“Can you just drop me off at the hospital right away?”
Kristin smiles. “Sure.”
Michael visibly tenses the closer they get to Gainesville. His legs twitch, he drums his fingers on the panelling on the door and he checks his phone every two minutes.
“He’s fine, Michael.” Kristin says, softly smiling at him.
“Is it bad?”
“It’s a clean break. Devon fell on his leg and managed to just snap both bones. Good news is that there’s no major damage to the ligaments. So they’re just gonna, like, get in there, fixate the bones and then slap on a cast. He’ll have to stay off the leg for a while, cast comes off in six to eight weeks and then Ry can start physiotherapy.”
“Is he gonna swim again?”
“Doctors are hopeful, yeah. They know what he’s like.”
And Michael actually laughs a little at that. Because yeah, if hospitals gave out punchcards, Ryan would have filled a few of those by now.
A bit over two hours later, they reach the hospital. Kristin tells Michael where to find Ryan before she tells him goodbye, waits for Michael to get his stuff out of the trunk, and drives home.
Michael hates hospitals. Okay, he’s pretty sure no one actually loves them anyway, but it was just this weird silence and the odd smells that have always irked him. Going through a hospital was like watching a horror movie, you never know what kind of gross things you’ll see every time you round a corner or accidentally get a peek through an open door.
Ryan’s on the orthopaedic floor. Michael gets off the elevator and looks around. The light is bright and the floors are empty and it silent apart from a ringing phone somewhere. Michael turns right and checks the numbers next to the door. Ryan’s room is almost at the end of the hallway. He takes a deep breath before he opens the door, preparing himself for all things possible.
The room is dark apart from the light on the little nightstand by the bed. There are no curtains or blinds on the window and Michael can see the reflection of the entire room in the window.
Ryan is laying on the bed, his back propped up by a few pillows. He’s wearing one of those ridiculous hospital-gowns and Michael is sure he must have put up one hell of a fight before the nurses got him to put on that thing. He’s covered with a sheet from the waist down, but his left leg is sticking out from underneath it, some sort of foam-tube around it to keep it in place. It’s swollen and bruised what looks like all over his shin and calf and Michael automatically hurts as well. There’s one of those pegs on Ryan’s finger to check the oxygen level in his blood, but he isn’t hooked to any other machine. His head is tipped to the side and he’s asleep, breathing softly.
Ike is sitting in a chair next to the bed, asleep with a book on her chest. She wakes up as Michael closes the door, immediately alert, but relaxing when she sees who has arrived.
“Hey Ike.” Michael whispers.
“Michael.” She smiles relieved, but looks exhausted.
Michael gets another chair and sits down next to Ike who takes hold of his hand right away.
“How is he?”
“Stupid, that’s how.” she replies, “I swear, those boys are gonna kill my last nerve. If Brandon turns out like this one, I’m gonna give him up for adoption before it’s too late.”
Michael chuckles softly. “How long has he been asleep?”
Ike checks her watch. “About an hour? He wanted to stay awake until you got here, but he was in so much pain.”
Michael feels a pang to the chest. He doesn’t want to think about Ryan being in pain. “Kris said something about … uhm … surgery?”
“Yeah. They’ll go in tomorrow, first thing in the morning. That’s when they know for sure what exactly they’re dealing with. Of course it’d be easier to just fixate the breaks with a few screws and a cast, but they might be able to go without the screws and just re-align the bones and let nature do its way.”
“What does he wanna do?”
“He just wants to get back into the water, whichever way.”
Michael knew the answer before he even asked the question. Ryan may have been all, ‘If something happens then that’s a sign that maybe I wasn’t meant to do this’, but Michael knows him. A broken leg is not the way Ryan Lochte has had in mind for the end of his swimming-career, so he’ll most likely move heaven and hell to not let it get this far.
“Do you, like … do you wanna go home? I’m gonna stay here.” Michael offers.
Ike shakes her head. “I’m fine.” She points to the table by the window. “The nurse brought over some pillows and blankets, help yourself. There’s a vending machine at the end of the hallway, but the night nurse said if we want real coffee, we can ask her.”
Michael smiles.
“And now tell me, how’s your mom, Michael?”
They chat lightly for a while, always having an eye and ear on Ryan sleeping in the bed next to them. Ike falls asleep shortly after midnight and Michael goes to cover her with a blanket before he gets out his laptop and watches a movie. He’s asleep before the film is halfway through.
*
It’s six in the morning when Michael rudely gets awoken by a nurse bursting through the door. He blinks his eyes open, squinting against the bright daylight, and sees Ike stretching in the chair next to his. By some sort of miracle, Ryan is still asleep.
“Rise and shine, everybody!” the nurse chirps and Michael wants to strangle her, just for her good mood alone.
The nurse moves around the bed and gets Ryan’s arm through a sling to check his blood pressure. The movement wakes him up. He tries to turn his body to his side, a reflex when he wakes up, and immediately winces. Michael does it with him.
“Motherfuckshit!” Ryan curses, suddenly wide awake.
Ike slaps him on the shoulder. “Language!”
Ryan snaps his head to the side, towards the voice. He sees Michael and his face immediately softens and relaxes a little.
“Mike.”
“Hey baby.” He reaches for Ryan’s hand and kisses his fingers and knuckles.
“How are you this morning, Ryan?” the nurse interrupts bright and alert and seriously, could this woman just turn the chipper down a notch?
Ryan turns back around to her. “Last I checked my leg was broken. So unless you have some bone-fixing leprechauns working nights at this place, I’m pretty sure that’s still the case. Take a wild guess at how I’m feeling.”
Ike slaps him again, this time to the back of his head. “Watch your mouth, mister!”
The nurse waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard worse. We’re getting a lot of athletes here, those guys are more creative with their insults than the ladies down at the delivery unit.” The blood pressure machine beeps and the nurse writes down the numbers on Ryan’s chart. “The doctors will be with you soon to go over the anaesthesiology and the surgery and everything. And unless there’s an emergency, you’re scheduled for 9am. But you’ll have to go in on an empty stomach because of the so make sure he doesn’t eat or drink anything but water.” She says the last part directed at Michael and Ike.
The nurse leaves and while Ike folds up the blankets, Ryan turns back around to Michael. He tugs on his hand and Michael gets the hint. He leans over and gives Ryan a gentle kiss.
“Dude, I’ve broken my legs, not my lips.”
“Your mom is here, Ryan.”
“Don’t care.” And Ryan pulls Michael and brings their lips together like that one kiss is the only thing to keep him alive right now. “When did you get here?” he asks as he’s pulling away, keeping Michael close to himself with a firm grip on the back of his neck.
“Last night, around 11. You were asleep. How’s Devon?”
“Little shit’s fine. Or well, he was yesterday. But Mom’s made him tell Dad what he did. And he had to call you.”
“Gregg and Matt as well.” Ike interrupts.
“So unless he’s been drowned in some pool, I guess Devon’s okay. I’m gonna make him pay though. Like, seriously. I’m not gonna move a fucking finger for the next few weeks.”
“What am I here for then?”
Ryan’s face lights up. “You’re staying?”
“Of course I’m staying.” And then he remembers. “Oh shit, I need to call my mom. And Peter. I just left yesterday, they don’t even know what’s going on.”
“You didn’t even call your mom?”
“No, I did, but … I had no idea how you were, I just told her I had to get here because of you.”
Ryan smiles. “I love you, you know that, right? You panic for no good reason, but I do love you.” Ryan pulls Michael close for another kiss. “Now go call your mom.”
Michael goes out into the hallway and calls home.
“Jesus Christ Michael, finally!”
“Sorry mom, I forgot. Ryan broke his leg and I just … my mind went blank.”
“Ryan did what? Oh my god, is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Or well, for now. They’re going to … he’s gonna have surgery later.” And it hits Michael then that, fuck, they’re going to cut open Ryan’s leg. Suddenly he finds it hard to breathe.
Debbie picks up on it immediately. “Honey, I’m sure it’s fine. The doctors there probably see several broken bones during the day. They know what they’re doing.”
“No, but … mom, what if …”
“No Michael,” Debbie interrupts sharply. “You are not even going to think about this! Ryan is going to be fine. Now go and give him a hug from me. And call again if you need anything, alright?”
“Yeah. Hey Mom?”
“Yes honey?”
“Can you call Peter? I just … he’s gonna want some gameplan or whatever and I just … I can’t deal with that right now.”
“Sure thing, honey. Bye. I love you.”
“Love you too, mom. Bye.”
Michael gets back into the room and as soon as he sits down, Ryan reaches for his hand again and as they talk about this and that with Ike and for a while, Michael almost forgets that they’re in a hospital and that Ryan is laying in this bed with a broken leg. He winces a little every time he tries to move a bit, but other than that, he seems to feel fine.
The doctors show up after half an hour. They have x-rays and medical records and they check Ryan’s chart as they’re explaining the surgery. Turns out that Devon falling on Ryan’s leg has basically snapped the bones in half (how he even did that, Michael doesn’t know, it’s not like Devon is a heavy guy). The doctors are confident that they can push the bones back into their usual position and that they will remain that way without further assistance of screws or metal plates or anything. But that means that Ryan cannot leave the hospital, the bed for that matter, for about two weeks, because every tiny movement can cause the bones to grow back together in the wrong way. He’ll also get hooked up to a catheter because he won’t even be allowed to get up to use the bathroom.
Ryan asks about swimming.
“You’ll have to undergo physiotherapy first. But even then we don’t know. You’ve broken two bones, Ryan. No matter how much time passes, those bones are always going to be more at risk then the ones in your other leg. I don’t doubt that you’ll be able to get back into the water, you can compete again if you do your exercises. But I can’t tell you for sure if you’ll ever be back to the level you were at before this has happened.”
“What if you just stick some screws in? Isn’t that, like, easier?”
“It means you’re out of here a lot sooner. And overall, the healing process is going to be faster.”
“Then we’ll do that!” Ryan interrupts.
“The thing with the screws is, we’re sort of … we’re being lazy, we’re doing things the easy way. You’re still young enough, you’re a healthy man. There is a good chance of complete recovery without putting some metal into your body. If we do put the screws in however, there may be some anomaly in the re-growing of the bone and you’ll probably be in pain every so often and a lot of conventional pain medication is forbidden by the US Doping Agency.”
Ryan groans and Michael can see the wheels turn in his head. Basically, he’s going to be damned, whatever option he’ll end up going for. On one hand, he may not be able to swim on a competitive level again, on the other hand he may be in serious pain every time he tries to.
Ryan looks at Michael. “What would you do?”
Michael shakes his head. “No, Ryan. I can’t make that decision for you.”
“I’m not asking you to, I just … I don’t know what to do.”
Michael looks back and forth between Ryan and Ike and the doctors. Suddenly it feels like they’re all depending on whatever he’s going to say next.
“You can only use pain to push you for so long before it gets unbearable. And … I mean … you work harder than anyone I know …”
“So no screws?”
“No screws.” Michael squeezes Ryan’s hand.
Without hesitation, Ryan turns to the doctors. “No screws.” he repeats Michael’s words.
“Right, so that’s what we’ll do. But please be aware that, should we notice that the bones won’t be able to stay in their original position on their own after we re-aligned them, we will have to put the screws in. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. As for anaesthesiology, we’re going to put you under completely, so you’ll be asleep. You may feel a little bit discomfort, a bit of dizziness, when you wake up, a bit like you’re drunk. There’s going to be a splint fastened to your leg so you will not be able to move it. The splint will also make your knee and ankle immobile. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. The procedure is pretty standard, so we expect to be in and out in under an hour.” The doctor turns to Michael and Ike. “You can come up to the surgical floor with him, but you will have to wait in the waiting area until Ryan wakes up from the anaesthesiology and then you can see him for a few minutes. He’ll be very out of it when he wakes up, probably won’t remember things you tell him or things he tells you, so just be prepared for that.”
“Okay.” Ike says and Michael nods. It is just a lot of information to take in.
The doctor turns back to Ryan “We’re gonna come back this afternoon, by that time you should be fully awake again. Then we can tell you how the surgery went and discuss your recovery. Do you have any other questions?”
Ryan shakes his head.
He gets handed a few forms to give his consent to the surgery. He signs them and then the doctors leave again.
The silence that settles in the room once the door falls close is unsettling. Ryan keeps staring at his leg like he wants to turn back time or make the bones grow back together just with the power of his mind. And Michael wishes he could just make sense of the whole thing. He has seen one person he cares about being defeated by an injury and he truly never wanted to go through that ever again.
“I’m gonna go call Steve, okay?” Ike says, getting out of her seat. “Need anything?” she adds, looking at Michael.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
Ike just smiles at them, gives Ryan a kiss to the cheek and leaves the room.
Michael really wants to stay calm. He doesn’t want to freak out in front of Ryan and make the whole thing even worse. But he’s sitting here and the love of his damned life is about to get his leg cut open and he’s looking at an uncertain future and Michael is just really mad right now.
“I’m going to kill Devon.” he grits out.
Ryan squeezes his hand. “It’s not his fault.”
“He went on a BMX when he knows he can’t ride it. He landed on your leg because he didn’t know how to break on a fucking bicycle. He broke your leg. How is this not his fault?”
“He feels bad enough, Mike. Like, when it happened, there was this … sound. Like, you could hear that something snapped. Made him almost pass out on the spot. I never heard him apologise for something so much. When he was here yesterday to tell me you were coming, like, he was so shaken up. I’ve never seen him like that, Mike. He knows he has fucked up. Like, if I can’t … you know, if I can’t come back from this-“
“Don’t even go there, Ryan. Don’t even think that. Of course you gonna come back.”
“Mike, I’m starting from scratch. At twenty-fucking-eight.”
Michael shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear that right now. “So fucking what? It’s not like you’ve never been injured. You promised me Ryan, remember? Back in London you promised to make things right. Beating LecClos. Beating Agnel. Beating Clary. ‘If you won’t be around to do it, I’ll do it for you.’ That’s what you fucking said. You never broke a promise to me, Ryan, and you’re not going to start doing that now.”
His tone is sharp and demanding and Ryan knows better than to argue.
Michael groans and rubs his forehead. He feels worn-out and exhausted. He just wants to close his eyes and open them and be next to Ryan in his big bed in his house in Gainesville. No broken bones, just a crazy nutjob of a dog who bumps his head against the mattress often enough for one of them to finally give up and let him out into the backyard. Michael wants the simplicity of being with Ryan. Everything always just fell into place when they were together. They never needed to hold anything together because it just was together. And now Michael is here in this blank hospital room and at some point yesterday, the entire world (his entire world anyway) decided to just give up and rest on his shoulders.
Ryan puts his hand on the back of Michael’s neck and pulls him down, so his head half-rests on Ryan’s hip. His thumb strokes along his skin. “Sorry, Mike.”
Michael slightly shakes his head. “Don’t. You did nothing wrong. Aside from maybe going to that skatepark.” And then he actually laughs a little and Ryan laughs with him.
For the first time since getting Devon’s call the day before, Michael actually feels like things are going to turn out just fine.
**
Two weeks later and Ryan’s back home. The surgery went well and he was allowed back home, leg in a cast from below his knee, with a recovery plan and several numbers of the best of the best on the field of physiotherapy.
Ryan is not allowed to properly move yet, he gets to hobble around the house on crutches if anything, so all through the day, he is either bound to the bed or the couch. He’s made Devon suffer for as long as possible, even made him get his phone when it was out of reach on the coffee table and he could’ve just stretched to get it. But now Devon is back in class and he has to go to work and Michael is left dealing with Ryan.
Ryan has always been a little obnoxious. It’s just part of his nature. He is loud and in your face and sometimes even a little smug. For him, it never is enough to be good at something, he wants to be the best at it. But all those character traits made him also one thing - impatient. He hates to wait for something. Slow process isn’t his thing. If he can’t improve on something, he does it repeatedly, in insane intervals, no stopping at anything, until he gets better at it.
Michael soon found out that when Ryan’s impatience collided with Ryan being rendered immobile by sickness, he is basically insufferable. He’s whiny and complains about everything under the sun.
Michael is just on his morning grocery run, a luxury he allows himself every two days so he won’t eventually rip Ryan’s head off, when his phone rings. Michael sighs and picks up, knowing immediately who’s going to be at the other end of the line.
“What is it?”
“Where are you?”
“Groceries. We ran out of cereal and some things.”
“Are you back soon?”
“I won’t be long baby, I promise. You okay?”
“I woke up and you weren’t there. I’m booooored.” He drags out the word for emphasis.
“Go back to sleep then.”
“My leg hurts.”
“Take your painkillers.”
Ryan groans. “I hate those fucking things.”
“Just …” Michael sighs. “Let Carter entertain you, okay? I’ll be home in a bit.”
“Hurry up?”
Ryan’s sad and almost pathetic tone makes Michael smile a bit, he can practically see Ryan pout into the phone. “I’ll be there in no time. I love you, baby.”
“Love you too.”
And Michael resents himself just a little, because he knows Ryan is perfectly capable of staying home unsupervised for a decent amount of time and that he’s blowing things way out of proportion, but he still picks up his pace as he’s making his way through the aisles.
Michael gets back to the house 15 minutes later. He dumps the groceries on the kitchen counter and makes his way up the stairs. “Babe, I’m home!”
“In here! Where else?” Comes the answer from the bedroom. Michael chooses to ignore the sarcastic tone that comes with it.
When Michael enters the room, Ryan’s on the bed, having Carter in somewhat of a headlock. He is blankly staring at the TV and aimlessly surfs through the channels. Upon seeing Michael, Ryan looks up and smiles. His hair is a mess and his clothes are wrinkled from days of not being changed.
“Haven’t you showered?”
Ryan just points at his leg with his eyebrow raised.
“You can shower by yourself. The garbage bags for your cast are under the sink.”
“I don’t wanna shower by myself. What if I fall?”
“You broke your leg, how does that affect your balance?”
“It’s just … I just don’t wanna be alone. And I like it when we shower together.” He wriggles his eyebrows and grins.
“You’re scared of falling over and you wanna have shower sex?”
“I can’t fall over if you’re holding onto me?”
“Your seduction techniques are just on point today.”
Ryan smiles at him. “I love you?”
Michael smiles back, leaning down to Ryan. “I love you too.” He gives him a short kiss.
Ryan grabs the front of Michael’s t-shirt to hold him in place while Carter sees his chance to bail and slips out of Ryan’s grasp and jumps off the bed.
“See?” Michael says as he slowly lowers himself onto the mattress next to Ryan. “Even your dog escapes your smell.”
“He just knows when I need my privacy.”
“Oh you need privacy? I think I’ll just leave you to it then.” He moves to get back up, but Ryan keeps a strong hold on him.
“Don’t you dare.”
Ryan and Michael end up staying in bed for most of the day, Ryan never making it into the shower after all.
*
Another two weeks later, Ryan is halfway through the time he has to wear the cast on his leg. And if Michael thought he’d seen the worst of Ryan’s impatience before, he gets taught a new lesson pretty much every day.
Ryan spends most of his time moping on the couch, angrily punching the buttons on his Xbox-controller. He’s gained weight and lost a lot of muscles because he eats away his boredom. In fact, food is about the only thing that can even bribe him into leaving the bed on some days.
Michael doesn’t really know what else to do. He understands Ryan’s frustration completely and he wants for him to feel better, but he knows that until Ryan is free of the cast, there isn’t really anything he can do to make him feel better. He has bought him a few sharpies so Ryan could draw on his cast and that had been a truly entertaining few hours until Ryan could no longer reach the back of the cast and was left with an unfinished art work. And obviously that just added to his generally foul mood.
Ryan knows nothing about his situation is Michael’s fault and that he should be grateful Michael is still hanging around in Gainesville playing nurse when he could be back home in Baltimore or enjoying retired life at some tropical location. But he sees Michael move around freely while he is trapped on his couch and it just endlessly pisses him off.
They don’t fight, but sometimes Ryan can tell Michael wants to get into it. Wants to yell at him and tell him to get a grip on himself, because a broken leg is not the end of the world. But before Michael can say something he may regret later on, he tends to slip out of the room, put some swim trunks on and take care of things in the pool. Which is an approach that usually helps, because it gives them both time to cool off.
That one night, it doesn’t help though.
Michael comes back into the house, drying off his hair as he walks past the couch Ryan is lounging on. He attempts running his fingers along Ryan’s neck as he’s walking past, but Ryan’s moving out of the way, not taking his eye off the game he’s currently playing.
Michael stops. “You okay?”
“No?”
Michael sighs. “Why?”
Ryan pauses the game and looks up at Michael. “Because I am sitting here with a fucking broken leg and you have nothing better to do than go swim in my pool and rub it into my face.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve broken your leg, dude.”
“I know it’s not but show a little sympathy, man. Do you know how much it sucks to get into bed with you every night with you smelling of chlorine? It’s like you’re waving it in my face that you can still swim and kick ass at it, but won’t, while I wanna swim and fucking can’t.”
“Show a little sympathy? I have shown you nothing but for the past month, Ryan. I’ve made you food and helped you into the shower and I take your dog out for a walk. All things you could do perfectly well on your own if I may add, but you won’t do them. I do everything because I love you and all you do is mope and complain and throw an everyday pity-party. So please excuse me for wanting to enjoy one thing by myself, think you can do that?”
“If you can find something else to enjoy, then yes.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Are you trying to tell me what to like and what not to like just so you can continue sulking on the couch?”
Ryan just shrugs.
“Okay, fine.”
Michael heads upstairs and a few minutes later, he is back, fully dressed.
“I’m gonna be at Conor’s.”
And right as he finishes his sentence, he door has already slammed close behind him and all that Ryan can do is toss his controller into the general direction of the TV.
A short while later Michael flops down onto Conor’s couch and drinks the beer Conor is not allowed to drink because he has to get to practise in the morning. He lets Conor show him some episodes of this TV-show he’s into and before he knows it, it’s 2am and Michael is watching his way through the first season of ‘Suits’ while Conor has long gone to bed. He falls asleep eventually and gets woken up the next morning when Conor returns from practise.
“How far did you get?” Conor points at the DVD-case on the coffee table.
“Almost done.”
Conor grins. “Addictive, isn’t it?”
“Dude, it’s so good.”
Conor sits down on the couch. “So … Ryan hasn’t called.”
“I didn’t expect him to.”
“Are you guys alright?”
Michael waves it off. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. He just needs to get over himself. And his butt of the couch.”
Conor just looks at him pointedly.
“What?”
“You realise you’re saying that when you’ve left a pretty impressive dent on my couch because you literally have not moved since you got here yesterday.”
“That’s -“
“Different? No, it’s not. He’s moping on the couch and you’re moping on the couch and both of you could be much better off if you’d just get off both your butts and did something together.”
“There’s really not that much that Ryan can do.”
Conor snorts. “You sound like him.”
Michael just looks at him darkly.
“You do though. Like, open your eyes, both of you. There’s plenty of stuff you can do. Go see a movie, take a walk with the dogs, see Matt and do some bench-pressing. For crying out loud, have sex for two days straight, for all I care. Just do something together and don’t pretend like a broken leg is the end of the world.”
“Ryan hates the crutches.”
“Well tough shit. He’s going to have to get used to them. He’s not going to magically be able to skip around when they take the cast off.”
Michael huffs out a laugh.
“And you need to stop taking his bullshit. Ryan’s a grown-up. He can take care of himself. Bust his balls a little, he can take it.” Conor then stands back up. “Well, I’m going to have a shower. And you’re welcome to dent in my couch some more, but really, if you have to dent in a couch, we both know that you should do it to a different one.”
Conor smiles at him and heads for his bathroom and when Michael hears the shower running, he realises that really, he is no better than Ryan right now, sitting around and feeling a little sorry for himself.
*
When Michael gets back to the house, the blinds are closed and it’s silent. He listens up if he can hear Carter roam around anywhere and picks up on something coming from the backyard. He peeks outside and sees Carter running around the yard and then spots Ryan sitting on one of the deckchairs, reading a book.
He slides open the door and slips outside, immediately being greeted by Carter. Ryan looks up and lets the book sink when he sees it’s Michael.
“Catching up on your reading?” Michael nods at the book in Ryan’s hand.
“It’s Devon’s. He needs to read it for school, but he’s picking up a shift at the bar tonight.”
“You’re doing your brother’s homework?”
“Not because I want to. But Dev said if I keep sitting on my ass all day, I may as well do something useful.” He puts the book aside and looks up at Michael. “Had fun at Conor’s?”
“Just sat around and watched TV.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Really now?”
“Yeah. I know. “ he sits down next to Ryan legs and taps his hand against the cast. “Sorry for just leaving.”
Ryan shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just like, … God, how do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Being retired. How are you not going insane?”
Michael just shrugs.
“Like, seriously dude. I’m about to sniff chlorine or drink the pool-water or some shit. I just wanna get back in there.” He frantically points at the pool. “Like, it kinda sucks that Carter knows how to swim, because I’m this fucking close to throw him in the pool and then jump in to save him, so I can tell the doc I had no other choice.”
Michael laughs. “You’re insane.”
“Withdrawal, man. Makes you do stupid shit.” He pauses, “Like going off at the guy who put his own life on hold to cater to your every need.” Ryan reaches for Michael’s hand. “I’m really sorry. Like, I don’t even know what to say to make it better.”
Michael squeezes Ryan’s hand. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You’re doing everything for me and instead of saying thank you or doing the things I can do on my own, I’m bitching at you for going swimming. And like, dude, I’m lost without you. I wanted to come to Conor’s last night to apologize, but Devon wouldn’t drive me. He said I can’t just expect people doing shit for me just because I have the cast and if he was you, he wouldn’t even come back.”
“And this from the guy who got you into this mess.”
“Right? I got like no sympathy-cards left with anyone.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Doesn’t that count as a sympathy-card?”
Ryan smiles. “Thank you. Really, I mean it. Thank you for being here.” He sits up and scoots forward until he’s close enough to kiss Michael tenderly. He pulls back a little, slightly biting on Michael’s bottom lip. “Now do you think you can help me get inside because I’m hungry and I’m going to get an ugly as fuck tan from this stupid cast.”
Michael chuckles. “Where are your crutches?”
“Uhm …” Ryan sheepishly points at the pool.
“You threw your crutches in? In an attempt to jump in to save them or …?”
“No, I just can’t stand to see those fucking things.”
“Sorry to say babe, but you gonna have to get used to them.”
Ryan lets out a whining sound.
“How about we’ll get you inside and you can get started on dinner while I go get changed and get your crutches out of the pool? I mean, if you don’t mind?”
“Will you dry off after?”
“Should I? I mean, I’ll be all wet and chlorine-y and …”
Ryan kisses him again. “God, please don’t judge me on this, but what you just said is like dirty talk to me right now.”
Michael can’t help but laugh against Ryan’s lips. “You are so weird.” He helps Ryan to stand up and then lets him support his weight on his shoulders as he hobbles back into the house. And just as Michael’s steering them towards the kitchen, Ryan stops him.
“You said something about wet and chlorine-y.”
“You said something about being hungry.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I can work up some more appetite.”
Ryan then lets go off Michael and, with a slightly pained face, moves across the room towards the staircase, holding onto the furniture on the way. Michael just stares. This is the most Ryan has moved on his own in the past few weeks.
When he reaches the bottom of the staircase, Ryan turns back around to Michael. “Okay, so I’m somehow going to get up there, but I think I do need a little motivation. So how about you’ll finally get changed and then go get my crutches?” He grins.
Michael grins back and makes his way to the stairs but before he makes his way upstairs, he stops in front of Ryan. “For the record, we are going to add this to your physical therapy plan, just so you know.” he says and dashes up the stairs, already taking off his t-shirt as he does.