Fic-Post: Force against Habit (Swimming RPS)
Title: Force against Habit
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,920
Summary: Ryan is forced to be apart from Michael
Disclaimer: Doubt it
Author's Note: My own take on the Phlochte-reunion. Kind of.
It’s nearly midnight on a Tuesday and Ryan has just fallen into bed when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to pick up, but then he thinks that nobody would actually call him at that hour on a week-night unless it was important.
He checks the caller ID and smiles as he picks up.
“I know for a fact that you have more than one watch, douchebag. Do none of them tell the right time?”
“Are you alone?”
“No, I’ve got like ten people in bed with me. What do you think? Of course I’m alone.”
There’s a sigh at the other end of the line. “I miss you.”
Ryan still smiles, even though hearing the words stings a little. “I miss you too.”
There’s a pause. “I’m gonna be done with shooting next week.”
“Oh yeah? When?”
“Don’t know. Monday, I hope. They wanna get it done before the photoshoot. Or well, I want them to be done before the photoshoot. They kinda wanna get it in.”
Ryan snorts. “Vultures.”
“Are you bringing yours?”
“I think so? Like, I don’t even know. I have an interview set up as well. And it’s also Jan’s birthday, so like, yeah …”
“Dude …”
“Hey, I didn’t give birth to her, it’s not my fault.”
“Am I even going to see you? Like, properly see you and spend some time with you?”
“We’ll find a way. We always find a way.” Ryan grins into the phone.
“It’s just …” A sigh. “God, I hate this. This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“I know but like … you know how it is.”
“Doesn’t make it suck less.”
“What do you want me to do? You know I can’t get out of it.” Ryan was getting frustrated. It was always the same thing and it had always the same ending.
“Yeah, but you could’ve avoided that whole thing before it even started.”
“Same as you.” Ryan pauses, taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’m not gonna get into this again. We’re going in circles with this anyway.”
He’s met with a moment of silence. “Yeah, I know, just … sorry. It’s frustrating.”
“I know.”
“Like, I don’t give a fuck if people make assumptions. Let them assume. But pretending that you don’t exist, that we don’t exist? I mean, what the fuck?”
“I know.”
The voice on the other end goes softer again. “I’m not mad at you, okay?”
“I know you aren’t, Babe. And hey, you can still underwater grope me. That’s something, right?”
“I’m never going to let go of you.”
“That’s gonna be one long-ass shoot then.”
“That’s kind of what I’m hoping for.” And Ryan can hear the smirk in his voice. “I love you, Ryan.”
“Love you too, MP. Can I go sleep now?”
“Yeah, go to sleep. I see you next week, yeah?”
“Next week. Bye.”
“Bye, Ryan.”
Ryan ends the call and sinks back into his pillow with a sigh. He knows he’s in a fucked-up situation and he knows that it’s more than partially his own fault. But the Olympics and everything that came after had been overwhelming, almost too overwhelming. He didn’t even do that great - at least not for his own standards - and still, everyone wanted a piece of him. He got to do Late Night Talkshows and he appeared on Gossip columns and people were totally willing to let him go crazy and design clothes. So he figured why not? People would stop caring soon enough, so why not get in on it while it was still there?
But suddenly things took a turn to the ugly and out of almost nowhere, there were legal documents telling him who he was allowed to spend time with and who it was better to avoid. Everyone he hung out with had to sign some papers because their faces were going to be on TV. But there wasn’t a paper with Michael’s name on it and when Ryan asked why, he got told that because Michael had his own show, there was suddenly a ‘conflict of interest’. And even now, Ryan had no idea where that conflict even was, he just knew that he apparently was not allowed any interaction with his very own boyfriend.
Suddenly, Ryan was in the closet. A place where he’d never been before. Okay, so he didn’t shout it from rooftops that he was sleeping with Michael Phelps, greatest Olympian and actually best boyfriend in the world. But his family and close friends, they knew. His teammates and coaches, they knew. And to Ryan, they were the ones who mattered. He didn’t care what anyone else thought or how some things may be interpreted by outsiders. And suddenly, it was the outsiders making decisions for him, trying to shape him into someone, something, he wasn’t. And he tried to get out of it, he really did. He signed with a professional agency and they assigned someone to him who actually seemed to know what she was doing. But it was too late. He had already signed a deal and there was a TV network involved and for the most part, it was all about the money. A lot of money. More money than Ryan was going to be able to fork out to make the whole issue go away.
So he talked to his family. He talked to his friends. He talked to his coaches. He talked to his teammates. He talked to Michael. “Eight weeks.” he had said, “Just stick with me through those eight weeks.” And most of them had said yes.
The first two days had been fun. The guys of the crew following him around were nice, they didn’t bug him too much. It was like he was just showing a bunch of visitors around Gainesville. He showed them where and how he trained, he showed his house and the cars, he took them on a night out. And it was fun. That was the whole point of it, right? Showing the world that you can be a pro-athlete and still have fun, that one doesn’t have to cancel the other out.
But then things got crazy and barely two weeks in, Ryan suddenly felt buried under an avalanche. The PR for his show had started, people were showing interest. Now there weren’t just the guys filming him anymore, now there were guys filming the guys filming him. And instead of just getting filmed doing what he did, Ryan had to do interviews, talking about getting filmed.
Ryan had a deadline that was constantly looming over him. This had to be shot by that time or they’d be in trouble, he’d be in trouble. So at first, he gave up some sleep. Skip an after-practice nap, do some filming instead. But the lack of sleep made him unfocused, being unfocused made the filming take up even more time.
And then there was only one other aspect of Ryan’s life where he was able to cut out some time to make his deadline.
Coach Troy was furious when Ryan told him that he was going to have to miss a practice here and there. “You were the one sounding off about Rio in 2016, you are the one who wants to go to Worlds. You can be in shape by 2016, but Worlds are this year, Ryan. And now you wanna stop practice, have you gone insane? Fuck that, I am not going to be a part of this. Find yourself another coach, train by yourself for all I care. Let’s see how you get to Worlds that way.”
It took a 20-minute shouting match, a dinner and the most torturous sets Ryan had ever done in his life to get Coach Troy back on his side.
And then there was still Michael. He had been supportive at first. He also had to give his family stuff to sign. He had also been told that, under no circumstances could Ryan’s face been seen on his show. But to Michael it wasn’t an issue. His show was about golf, not about his private life. They wanted to film him practise his swings and had no interest in following him around Baltimore. Michael’s end of the deal was okay. He still had his privacy at the end of the day.
He had called Ryan one afternoon. He just started talking as soon as Ryan had picked up, not wasting any time on greetings, because they stopped doing that at some point in 2004, probably around the second time they ever spoke to each other on the phone. So Michael talked about how he was sure Hank was seriously trying to kill him and he said that even holding his phone was sort of painful right now because of all his blisters. It took him a while to notice that Ryan didn’t even seem to listen to him.
“You okay, Doggy?”
“Yeah just, I’m like, … I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you back?”
“Dude, yeah of course.”
Ryan had called him back 20 minutes later.
“Sorry, MP.”
“Don’t be, it’s fine. I know how it is. Filming and stuff.”
“Yeah.” Ryan sighed.
“You okay?”
There was a long pause before Ryan eventually answered. “They don’t want me to talk to you anymore.”
“What? Who?”
“The producers. Erika mostly.”
“Why?”
“Like, I don’t even know. I mean, I sorta get why you can’t be on my show, you know. Different networks, different contracts, all that. But like, now they’re like, ‘It may be better to break off contact for a while.’ And I’m like, I don’t get it. They wanna see me date, apparently and I’m like, ‘But I already am dating someone’ and I mean, Erika and Jan know because like, it’s their job, they gotta keep an eye on the press and all, you know. So they also know I have no interest in pretend-dating anyone, but apparently, that shit sells better? And like, they think you’re going to steal the show from me if you appear on it and like … fuck. I don’t know, Babe. This sucks.” He sounded frustrated and angry and like he was just about to start whining and call for his mom to get him out of the situation.
“Doggy, it’s okay.” Michael said in a calm voice. “Don’t stress yourself out about it. You always say it’s just eight weeks. What are eight weeks, huh? They don’t even matter.” He smiled into the phone, hoping for Ryan to catch it.
“Eight weeks.” Ryan repeated.
As it turned out, Ryan hadn’t been joking when he said that they wanted him to cut off contact with Michael. Sometimes, days went by and Michael hadn’t heard as much as a peep from Ryan, had to make do with a text here in there. And in most of those texts, Ryan seemed angry and no longer his carefree self. It made Michael hurt more for Ryan than for himself so he arranged for them to have a private candle light dinner in New York where they were both supposed to make an appearance for the Golden Goggles, just being able to be with each other and get Ryan’s mind off things.
And then the Golden Goggles came and went and Ryan and Michael had barely even looked at each other. Michael had tried to talk to Ryan, but Ryan was pulled into another direction, away from him. Michael had texted Ryan the address of the restaurant he had rented out just for the two of them, only to have Ryan text to him five minutes before they were supposed to meet, saying ‘Theyre not letting me leave :(‘
That night, they had their first fight about it. Ryan had shown up at Michael’s room at 1am and before the door had even closed behind him, they were already screaming at each other. Michael accused Ryan of lacking the willpower to just say no when someone was trying to tell him what to do and who to see. And Ryan used Michael’s own words against him, asking him where the support was Michael had given just a while ago, what about it just being eight weeks and how they don’t matter?
That night, they screamed at each other until they were exhausted and had scratchy throats. In the end, Michael pulled Ryan down on the bed and held him close. They said ‘I love you’ to each other and then they fell asleep fully clothed, because they both realised that whatever they had was stronger than any influence from the outside. It had to be stronger.
In December, Ryan went to Turkey and he won six medals in four days on autopilot. It was the first time in a long time he had some sort of peace and quiet for himself, time to focus on the important things. He talked to Michael on Skype every night and as soon as he got onto the pooldeck, he knew exactly what he was there for. He was beat at the end of the trip, but for the first time in weeks, it was the good kind of beat and he spent Christmas with a smile on his face. Especially when Michael surprisingly showed up on his doorstep between Christmas and New Year’s and they spent two days hardly leaving Ryan’s bed.
In the new year, Michael and Ryan fought a few more times, but it never got as bad as that first time. Michael slowly started to get fed up, because now there was apparently some more promo to do after the eight weeks and words like ‘second season’ got thrown around and Michael was so annoyed and tired that even he started talking to lawyers, because how was it possible that Ryan was forced to do this? He never said a word to Ryan, but sometimes it was hard to hide how fucked up he thought that entire thing was.
Meanwhile Ryan had adopted an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude. He went where people told him to go, he said words written out for him to people who were hired to listen and respond. He didn’t even bother to put up a fight because maybe if the whole process went smoother, it would also be over faster. When he was told he could only go to the Superbowl if he didn’t hang out with Michael Phelps, he just laughed bitterly and told them that he was not going to be the one breaking those news to his brothers who were already crazy with excitement about going. He was done taking the blame for things that some producers fucked up.
The Orlando Grand Prix went by in a blur. Ryan knew he was going to suck, told everyone to not expect anything from him this time around. To him, that Grand Prix was like doing practice races in front of an audience. And still, he didn’t even do too bad, he surely did better than he expected. But afterwards, he still had to justify himself, answer questions about why he’d not been good, not on Olympic Champion form. So he smiled at the cameras and rattled off lists of things he did wrong, all with a shrug of his shoulder. Not like people were going to listen to him anyway, because apparently, they stopped doing that a long time ago.
Ryan and Michael were talking on a regular basis again. Michael was almost done shooting for his show so his obligations would be over soon.
And then Ryan found out that Speedo was going to do a new photoshoot. And before he had even finished writing a text to Michael, Michael had called him and yelled an excited, “I’m gonna do the Speedo-shoot!” down the phone, straight into his ear.
*
Ryan is the first out of everyone to get to LA a day before the shoot is about to happen. He is nervous and antsy, excited to see Michael and everyone else without having to explain it to anyone, knowing that he won’t get pulled away from them this time.
Ryan has been pacing back and forth for a good half hour in the hotel room him and Michael are going to share when he hears the keycard sliding through the lock. The door isn’t even fully open when Ryan practically tackles Michael and pulls him in for the biggest hug he has probably ever given anyone in his life.
“Hi to you too, Doggy.” Michael mumbles against him, forcing him a little further into the room so that at least the door can close.
“God I missed you.” Ryan inhales against Michael’s chest, pressing them together even closer. “Are you done shooting?”
Michael nods. “Where’s your crew?”
“Not here. Not allowed. Speedo said no.” and Michael can hear the excitement in his voice.
“You seem totally heartbroken about that.”
Ryan chuckles against him.
Michael then slowly disentangles himself from Ryan enough to be able to kiss him. It’s their first kiss since weeks - months, even - and they each put everything into it, trying to catch up on everything that they’ve had to miss out on with just one touch of their lips.
“How did I even manage to be without this for longer than a day?” Ryan asks as they’re breaking the kiss, both of them breathing heavy.
Michael smiles. “Well, maybe you won’t have to for much longer?”
Ryan raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“Well, I’ve talked to a lawyer and” He pauses to kiss Ryan again, “well, he said that he could negotiate a better deal in case you wanna do a second season? I mean, you still have to finish the filming for this season under the old circumstances, obviously. But like, if you play your cards right, you can already work something out just for doing promo for the show.”
Ryan pulls away from Michael enough to properly look at him. “You talked to a lawyer?”
“They can’t tell you who to talk to. I mean, yeah they can right now, because you signed that first contract. By the way, you really need to start reading those things, Babe. Seriously reading them, not just skimming them.”
Ryan just rolls his eyes in response.
“No, I mean it. Either you read them or you get someone to read them for you. I mean, how do you not even have a legal advisor? Anyway. You can keep some of your stuff private, even when you do a reality show. If there’s something in your contract about how you don’t want your personal relationships exploited, then there’s nothing anyone can do or say against that. Or like, you can put something in there that your training always has first priority. And you know, in case Meg and Kris don’t want the babies on the show, that can be added as well and -”
Ryan just looks at Michael with a wide smile on his face.
Michael interrupts his rambling. “What? Did you even listen to anything I just said?”
“You actually talked to a lawyer.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t.”
“That too, but also because you are so totally in love with me and you feel the need to protect me from all evil. My knight in shining Under Armor. That shit is straight up Romeo and Juliet.”
Michael snorts. “No surprise that your show is scripted.” He pauses for a moment. “How the fuck do you even know Romeo and Juliet?”
“I still hang out with Tony, dude. He’s all up on Shakespeare.” Ryan punches him in the shoulder. “And I’m funny, asshole. Even without a script.”
“Uh-huh.” Michael replies and leans in to kiss Ryan again.
When they break their kiss, Ryan brings his hand up to Michael’s cheek, brushing his thumb against Michael’s skin.
“I can’t believe you actually went to talk to a lawyer.”
Michael sighs. “Like, I know I said I was okay with this. I mean, I totally was. Eight weeks, sounds like nothing, right? We’ve gone way longer without seeing each other before. But god, it was killing me that we couldn’t even properly talk to each other. And it sucked that you didn’t even seem like yourself anymore. And like, there has to be another way to make it work, you know? I don’t want you to not do your show, not if it’s something you really want to do. But I do want you to be able to be yourself while you do it.”
Ryan just smiles at Michael. “I love you, you know that, right? Like, I can’t believe that you actually talked to someone about this. Thank you, Babe.”
“Someone’s gotta look out for you, Doggy.”
“I’m glad it’s you.”
“I’m glad you’re letting me.”
Ryan runs his fingers across the front of Michael’s t-shirt, just enjoying being close to him again without anyone butting in and pulling him away for at least one entire day. Of course it’s not nearly enough time, but Ryan has learned to appreciate what he has whenever he has it.
“So like” he says, his eyes fixed on his fingers on Michael’s chest before looking back up at Michael, “if I decided to do a second season and like, if they’re even giving me one, would you be in it? ”
“You want me to?”
“I mean, not as my boyfriend, maybe? Like, I’m not ashamed or anything, but like, it really isn’t anyone’s business, but just … you’re a part of my life. The show is supposed to be about my life. So …”
“Do you think that’s smart? I mean, I’ve gotten here like 10 minutes ago and you haven’t let go of me once.”
Ryan laughs. “Says the one whose hands have been dangerously close to my ass for all of those 10 minutes.”
“Can’t help it, it’s a nice ass.”
“True, can’t deny that.”
“Modest.”
“Honest. There’s a difference.” He smirks.
Michael shakes his head and rolls his eyes at Ryan. “Maybe I should just be around? Like, not in front of the camera, but seriously, someone needs to stop you from talking.”
“And what makes you think that you’re the right person for that particular job?”
Instead of replying, Michael leans back in and captures Ryan’s lips in a kiss again. He pulls him in closer, lets his hands roam down the small of Ryan’s back until he firmly grabs onto his ass. He pulls away slowly, slightly biting down on Ryan’s bottom lip as he does.
“Yeah.” Ryan exhales, “That, like … yeah. Totally works.” He takes a few deep breaths. “Okay, so can we like, not talk about my show for like, the next 24 hours? I promise I will work that shit out as soon as I can, but like, I have you here with me right now and like, that’s all I want to focus on. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me. Like, really good, actually.”
Instead of responding, Ryan leans in to kiss Michael again, blindly steering both of them towards the big bed in their room. Michael’s hands seem to be all over him right away and before he gives in to them, gives in to Michael, he fumbles his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, hits a few buttons without even looking and then dumps his phone into the drawer of the nightstand, intending to not even looking at it for as long as Michael’s with him.
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,920
Summary: Ryan is forced to be apart from Michael
Disclaimer: Doubt it
Author's Note: My own take on the Phlochte-reunion. Kind of.
It’s nearly midnight on a Tuesday and Ryan has just fallen into bed when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to pick up, but then he thinks that nobody would actually call him at that hour on a week-night unless it was important.
He checks the caller ID and smiles as he picks up.
“I know for a fact that you have more than one watch, douchebag. Do none of them tell the right time?”
“Are you alone?”
“No, I’ve got like ten people in bed with me. What do you think? Of course I’m alone.”
There’s a sigh at the other end of the line. “I miss you.”
Ryan still smiles, even though hearing the words stings a little. “I miss you too.”
There’s a pause. “I’m gonna be done with shooting next week.”
“Oh yeah? When?”
“Don’t know. Monday, I hope. They wanna get it done before the photoshoot. Or well, I want them to be done before the photoshoot. They kinda wanna get it in.”
Ryan snorts. “Vultures.”
“Are you bringing yours?”
“I think so? Like, I don’t even know. I have an interview set up as well. And it’s also Jan’s birthday, so like, yeah …”
“Dude …”
“Hey, I didn’t give birth to her, it’s not my fault.”
“Am I even going to see you? Like, properly see you and spend some time with you?”
“We’ll find a way. We always find a way.” Ryan grins into the phone.
“It’s just …” A sigh. “God, I hate this. This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“I know but like … you know how it is.”
“Doesn’t make it suck less.”
“What do you want me to do? You know I can’t get out of it.” Ryan was getting frustrated. It was always the same thing and it had always the same ending.
“Yeah, but you could’ve avoided that whole thing before it even started.”
“Same as you.” Ryan pauses, taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’m not gonna get into this again. We’re going in circles with this anyway.”
He’s met with a moment of silence. “Yeah, I know, just … sorry. It’s frustrating.”
“I know.”
“Like, I don’t give a fuck if people make assumptions. Let them assume. But pretending that you don’t exist, that we don’t exist? I mean, what the fuck?”
“I know.”
The voice on the other end goes softer again. “I’m not mad at you, okay?”
“I know you aren’t, Babe. And hey, you can still underwater grope me. That’s something, right?”
“I’m never going to let go of you.”
“That’s gonna be one long-ass shoot then.”
“That’s kind of what I’m hoping for.” And Ryan can hear the smirk in his voice. “I love you, Ryan.”
“Love you too, MP. Can I go sleep now?”
“Yeah, go to sleep. I see you next week, yeah?”
“Next week. Bye.”
“Bye, Ryan.”
Ryan ends the call and sinks back into his pillow with a sigh. He knows he’s in a fucked-up situation and he knows that it’s more than partially his own fault. But the Olympics and everything that came after had been overwhelming, almost too overwhelming. He didn’t even do that great - at least not for his own standards - and still, everyone wanted a piece of him. He got to do Late Night Talkshows and he appeared on Gossip columns and people were totally willing to let him go crazy and design clothes. So he figured why not? People would stop caring soon enough, so why not get in on it while it was still there?
But suddenly things took a turn to the ugly and out of almost nowhere, there were legal documents telling him who he was allowed to spend time with and who it was better to avoid. Everyone he hung out with had to sign some papers because their faces were going to be on TV. But there wasn’t a paper with Michael’s name on it and when Ryan asked why, he got told that because Michael had his own show, there was suddenly a ‘conflict of interest’. And even now, Ryan had no idea where that conflict even was, he just knew that he apparently was not allowed any interaction with his very own boyfriend.
Suddenly, Ryan was in the closet. A place where he’d never been before. Okay, so he didn’t shout it from rooftops that he was sleeping with Michael Phelps, greatest Olympian and actually best boyfriend in the world. But his family and close friends, they knew. His teammates and coaches, they knew. And to Ryan, they were the ones who mattered. He didn’t care what anyone else thought or how some things may be interpreted by outsiders. And suddenly, it was the outsiders making decisions for him, trying to shape him into someone, something, he wasn’t. And he tried to get out of it, he really did. He signed with a professional agency and they assigned someone to him who actually seemed to know what she was doing. But it was too late. He had already signed a deal and there was a TV network involved and for the most part, it was all about the money. A lot of money. More money than Ryan was going to be able to fork out to make the whole issue go away.
So he talked to his family. He talked to his friends. He talked to his coaches. He talked to his teammates. He talked to Michael. “Eight weeks.” he had said, “Just stick with me through those eight weeks.” And most of them had said yes.
The first two days had been fun. The guys of the crew following him around were nice, they didn’t bug him too much. It was like he was just showing a bunch of visitors around Gainesville. He showed them where and how he trained, he showed his house and the cars, he took them on a night out. And it was fun. That was the whole point of it, right? Showing the world that you can be a pro-athlete and still have fun, that one doesn’t have to cancel the other out.
But then things got crazy and barely two weeks in, Ryan suddenly felt buried under an avalanche. The PR for his show had started, people were showing interest. Now there weren’t just the guys filming him anymore, now there were guys filming the guys filming him. And instead of just getting filmed doing what he did, Ryan had to do interviews, talking about getting filmed.
Ryan had a deadline that was constantly looming over him. This had to be shot by that time or they’d be in trouble, he’d be in trouble. So at first, he gave up some sleep. Skip an after-practice nap, do some filming instead. But the lack of sleep made him unfocused, being unfocused made the filming take up even more time.
And then there was only one other aspect of Ryan’s life where he was able to cut out some time to make his deadline.
Coach Troy was furious when Ryan told him that he was going to have to miss a practice here and there. “You were the one sounding off about Rio in 2016, you are the one who wants to go to Worlds. You can be in shape by 2016, but Worlds are this year, Ryan. And now you wanna stop practice, have you gone insane? Fuck that, I am not going to be a part of this. Find yourself another coach, train by yourself for all I care. Let’s see how you get to Worlds that way.”
It took a 20-minute shouting match, a dinner and the most torturous sets Ryan had ever done in his life to get Coach Troy back on his side.
And then there was still Michael. He had been supportive at first. He also had to give his family stuff to sign. He had also been told that, under no circumstances could Ryan’s face been seen on his show. But to Michael it wasn’t an issue. His show was about golf, not about his private life. They wanted to film him practise his swings and had no interest in following him around Baltimore. Michael’s end of the deal was okay. He still had his privacy at the end of the day.
He had called Ryan one afternoon. He just started talking as soon as Ryan had picked up, not wasting any time on greetings, because they stopped doing that at some point in 2004, probably around the second time they ever spoke to each other on the phone. So Michael talked about how he was sure Hank was seriously trying to kill him and he said that even holding his phone was sort of painful right now because of all his blisters. It took him a while to notice that Ryan didn’t even seem to listen to him.
“You okay, Doggy?”
“Yeah just, I’m like, … I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you back?”
“Dude, yeah of course.”
Ryan had called him back 20 minutes later.
“Sorry, MP.”
“Don’t be, it’s fine. I know how it is. Filming and stuff.”
“Yeah.” Ryan sighed.
“You okay?”
There was a long pause before Ryan eventually answered. “They don’t want me to talk to you anymore.”
“What? Who?”
“The producers. Erika mostly.”
“Why?”
“Like, I don’t even know. I mean, I sorta get why you can’t be on my show, you know. Different networks, different contracts, all that. But like, now they’re like, ‘It may be better to break off contact for a while.’ And I’m like, I don’t get it. They wanna see me date, apparently and I’m like, ‘But I already am dating someone’ and I mean, Erika and Jan know because like, it’s their job, they gotta keep an eye on the press and all, you know. So they also know I have no interest in pretend-dating anyone, but apparently, that shit sells better? And like, they think you’re going to steal the show from me if you appear on it and like … fuck. I don’t know, Babe. This sucks.” He sounded frustrated and angry and like he was just about to start whining and call for his mom to get him out of the situation.
“Doggy, it’s okay.” Michael said in a calm voice. “Don’t stress yourself out about it. You always say it’s just eight weeks. What are eight weeks, huh? They don’t even matter.” He smiled into the phone, hoping for Ryan to catch it.
“Eight weeks.” Ryan repeated.
As it turned out, Ryan hadn’t been joking when he said that they wanted him to cut off contact with Michael. Sometimes, days went by and Michael hadn’t heard as much as a peep from Ryan, had to make do with a text here in there. And in most of those texts, Ryan seemed angry and no longer his carefree self. It made Michael hurt more for Ryan than for himself so he arranged for them to have a private candle light dinner in New York where they were both supposed to make an appearance for the Golden Goggles, just being able to be with each other and get Ryan’s mind off things.
And then the Golden Goggles came and went and Ryan and Michael had barely even looked at each other. Michael had tried to talk to Ryan, but Ryan was pulled into another direction, away from him. Michael had texted Ryan the address of the restaurant he had rented out just for the two of them, only to have Ryan text to him five minutes before they were supposed to meet, saying ‘Theyre not letting me leave :(‘
That night, they had their first fight about it. Ryan had shown up at Michael’s room at 1am and before the door had even closed behind him, they were already screaming at each other. Michael accused Ryan of lacking the willpower to just say no when someone was trying to tell him what to do and who to see. And Ryan used Michael’s own words against him, asking him where the support was Michael had given just a while ago, what about it just being eight weeks and how they don’t matter?
That night, they screamed at each other until they were exhausted and had scratchy throats. In the end, Michael pulled Ryan down on the bed and held him close. They said ‘I love you’ to each other and then they fell asleep fully clothed, because they both realised that whatever they had was stronger than any influence from the outside. It had to be stronger.
In December, Ryan went to Turkey and he won six medals in four days on autopilot. It was the first time in a long time he had some sort of peace and quiet for himself, time to focus on the important things. He talked to Michael on Skype every night and as soon as he got onto the pooldeck, he knew exactly what he was there for. He was beat at the end of the trip, but for the first time in weeks, it was the good kind of beat and he spent Christmas with a smile on his face. Especially when Michael surprisingly showed up on his doorstep between Christmas and New Year’s and they spent two days hardly leaving Ryan’s bed.
In the new year, Michael and Ryan fought a few more times, but it never got as bad as that first time. Michael slowly started to get fed up, because now there was apparently some more promo to do after the eight weeks and words like ‘second season’ got thrown around and Michael was so annoyed and tired that even he started talking to lawyers, because how was it possible that Ryan was forced to do this? He never said a word to Ryan, but sometimes it was hard to hide how fucked up he thought that entire thing was.
Meanwhile Ryan had adopted an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude. He went where people told him to go, he said words written out for him to people who were hired to listen and respond. He didn’t even bother to put up a fight because maybe if the whole process went smoother, it would also be over faster. When he was told he could only go to the Superbowl if he didn’t hang out with Michael Phelps, he just laughed bitterly and told them that he was not going to be the one breaking those news to his brothers who were already crazy with excitement about going. He was done taking the blame for things that some producers fucked up.
The Orlando Grand Prix went by in a blur. Ryan knew he was going to suck, told everyone to not expect anything from him this time around. To him, that Grand Prix was like doing practice races in front of an audience. And still, he didn’t even do too bad, he surely did better than he expected. But afterwards, he still had to justify himself, answer questions about why he’d not been good, not on Olympic Champion form. So he smiled at the cameras and rattled off lists of things he did wrong, all with a shrug of his shoulder. Not like people were going to listen to him anyway, because apparently, they stopped doing that a long time ago.
Ryan and Michael were talking on a regular basis again. Michael was almost done shooting for his show so his obligations would be over soon.
And then Ryan found out that Speedo was going to do a new photoshoot. And before he had even finished writing a text to Michael, Michael had called him and yelled an excited, “I’m gonna do the Speedo-shoot!” down the phone, straight into his ear.
*
Ryan is the first out of everyone to get to LA a day before the shoot is about to happen. He is nervous and antsy, excited to see Michael and everyone else without having to explain it to anyone, knowing that he won’t get pulled away from them this time.
Ryan has been pacing back and forth for a good half hour in the hotel room him and Michael are going to share when he hears the keycard sliding through the lock. The door isn’t even fully open when Ryan practically tackles Michael and pulls him in for the biggest hug he has probably ever given anyone in his life.
“Hi to you too, Doggy.” Michael mumbles against him, forcing him a little further into the room so that at least the door can close.
“God I missed you.” Ryan inhales against Michael’s chest, pressing them together even closer. “Are you done shooting?”
Michael nods. “Where’s your crew?”
“Not here. Not allowed. Speedo said no.” and Michael can hear the excitement in his voice.
“You seem totally heartbroken about that.”
Ryan chuckles against him.
Michael then slowly disentangles himself from Ryan enough to be able to kiss him. It’s their first kiss since weeks - months, even - and they each put everything into it, trying to catch up on everything that they’ve had to miss out on with just one touch of their lips.
“How did I even manage to be without this for longer than a day?” Ryan asks as they’re breaking the kiss, both of them breathing heavy.
Michael smiles. “Well, maybe you won’t have to for much longer?”
Ryan raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“Well, I’ve talked to a lawyer and” He pauses to kiss Ryan again, “well, he said that he could negotiate a better deal in case you wanna do a second season? I mean, you still have to finish the filming for this season under the old circumstances, obviously. But like, if you play your cards right, you can already work something out just for doing promo for the show.”
Ryan pulls away from Michael enough to properly look at him. “You talked to a lawyer?”
“They can’t tell you who to talk to. I mean, yeah they can right now, because you signed that first contract. By the way, you really need to start reading those things, Babe. Seriously reading them, not just skimming them.”
Ryan just rolls his eyes in response.
“No, I mean it. Either you read them or you get someone to read them for you. I mean, how do you not even have a legal advisor? Anyway. You can keep some of your stuff private, even when you do a reality show. If there’s something in your contract about how you don’t want your personal relationships exploited, then there’s nothing anyone can do or say against that. Or like, you can put something in there that your training always has first priority. And you know, in case Meg and Kris don’t want the babies on the show, that can be added as well and -”
Ryan just looks at Michael with a wide smile on his face.
Michael interrupts his rambling. “What? Did you even listen to anything I just said?”
“You actually talked to a lawyer.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t.”
“That too, but also because you are so totally in love with me and you feel the need to protect me from all evil. My knight in shining Under Armor. That shit is straight up Romeo and Juliet.”
Michael snorts. “No surprise that your show is scripted.” He pauses for a moment. “How the fuck do you even know Romeo and Juliet?”
“I still hang out with Tony, dude. He’s all up on Shakespeare.” Ryan punches him in the shoulder. “And I’m funny, asshole. Even without a script.”
“Uh-huh.” Michael replies and leans in to kiss Ryan again.
When they break their kiss, Ryan brings his hand up to Michael’s cheek, brushing his thumb against Michael’s skin.
“I can’t believe you actually went to talk to a lawyer.”
Michael sighs. “Like, I know I said I was okay with this. I mean, I totally was. Eight weeks, sounds like nothing, right? We’ve gone way longer without seeing each other before. But god, it was killing me that we couldn’t even properly talk to each other. And it sucked that you didn’t even seem like yourself anymore. And like, there has to be another way to make it work, you know? I don’t want you to not do your show, not if it’s something you really want to do. But I do want you to be able to be yourself while you do it.”
Ryan just smiles at Michael. “I love you, you know that, right? Like, I can’t believe that you actually talked to someone about this. Thank you, Babe.”
“Someone’s gotta look out for you, Doggy.”
“I’m glad it’s you.”
“I’m glad you’re letting me.”
Ryan runs his fingers across the front of Michael’s t-shirt, just enjoying being close to him again without anyone butting in and pulling him away for at least one entire day. Of course it’s not nearly enough time, but Ryan has learned to appreciate what he has whenever he has it.
“So like” he says, his eyes fixed on his fingers on Michael’s chest before looking back up at Michael, “if I decided to do a second season and like, if they’re even giving me one, would you be in it? ”
“You want me to?”
“I mean, not as my boyfriend, maybe? Like, I’m not ashamed or anything, but like, it really isn’t anyone’s business, but just … you’re a part of my life. The show is supposed to be about my life. So …”
“Do you think that’s smart? I mean, I’ve gotten here like 10 minutes ago and you haven’t let go of me once.”
Ryan laughs. “Says the one whose hands have been dangerously close to my ass for all of those 10 minutes.”
“Can’t help it, it’s a nice ass.”
“True, can’t deny that.”
“Modest.”
“Honest. There’s a difference.” He smirks.
Michael shakes his head and rolls his eyes at Ryan. “Maybe I should just be around? Like, not in front of the camera, but seriously, someone needs to stop you from talking.”
“And what makes you think that you’re the right person for that particular job?”
Instead of replying, Michael leans back in and captures Ryan’s lips in a kiss again. He pulls him in closer, lets his hands roam down the small of Ryan’s back until he firmly grabs onto his ass. He pulls away slowly, slightly biting down on Ryan’s bottom lip as he does.
“Yeah.” Ryan exhales, “That, like … yeah. Totally works.” He takes a few deep breaths. “Okay, so can we like, not talk about my show for like, the next 24 hours? I promise I will work that shit out as soon as I can, but like, I have you here with me right now and like, that’s all I want to focus on. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me. Like, really good, actually.”
Instead of responding, Ryan leans in to kiss Michael again, blindly steering both of them towards the big bed in their room. Michael’s hands seem to be all over him right away and before he gives in to them, gives in to Michael, he fumbles his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, hits a few buttons without even looking and then dumps his phone into the drawer of the nightstand, intending to not even looking at it for as long as Michael’s with him.