Fic-Post: Mind Games (Swimming RPS)
Title: Mind Games
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10,458
Summary: Absolutely no one could get into your head like Ryan Lochte could.
Disclaimer: Doubt it
Author's Note: More than half of this was written before the MP-reunion rumours appeared and the rest just fell into place afterwards
Ryan Lochte was a champion in many ways. And not just in the pool. He had an impeccable talent for always saying something that made you smile fondly and roll your eyes at him at the same time. He was kind and generous and always had a smile ready, even for the people that didn’t deserve it. You could leave him in front of a clothing rack a mile long and it would take him a record time to somehow find the two items that would clash the most and make an outfit out of them, shoes included.
But Ryan also had one talent that no one really knew he possessed, especially considering him being labelled as ‘the dumb one’ on a pretty much daily basis.
Absolutely no one could get into your head like Ryan Lochte could.
**
Life after London was a rollercoaster for Michael. Suddenly, he had all this time, but he didn’t know what to effectively do with it. So he ended up doing a million things at once. A game of golf in Scotland turned into a poker tournament in Canada and ended up in a party in Vegas followed by a different party on the Bahamas and some more golf in Mexico. Somehow inbetween all that, the Ravens won the Superbowl which seemed to chew up a whole week that Michael has trouble remembering. There were a few different girls at many different locations but, just like the rest, they all sort of blended into one after a while.
But somehow, that one thing that always stood out was Ryan. With their lives being taken into two different directions, it had been tough - impossible, actually - to stay in touch. It didn’t help that Michael was naturally too lazy to do anything and Ryan was a social bee (Michael had called him a social butterfly once, which didn’t go over well. “Butterflies are so fucking girly, man. Call me something else.”) who was constantly buzzing from one thing to the other. So in the course of actions, they had just sort of stopped talking to each other.
Them not talking didn’t mean they didn’t communicate though. Michael couldn’t tell when or how it happened, but he knew for sure that it was Ryan who had started it, because Ryan had figured out the art of getting into Michael’s head better than anyone else. At first Michael had thought it was a coincidence, but soon he noticed that Ryan seemed to somehow copy him, no matter what he did. If Michael tweeted about golf, so would Ryan. If Michael put a photo of Herman online, soon after there would be a photo of Carter. The winter had been harsh and long and even though Michael didn’t really get cold easily, he started wearing a beanie, first out of convenience, later out of habit. And when he saw a photo of Ryan wearing a beanie, he noticed the pattern. Because Ryan had to be crazier than usual to wear a beanie on a night out in Florida.
So Michael’s overall conclusion was that this was Ryan’s way of telling him he was okay. He couldn’t talk to Michael in person because they had officially crossed the line where a phone call would be awkward instead of casual. So when Ryan did the same things as Michael, it was his way of saying “You’re okay doing what you do. I’m okay doing what I do by doing the same things as you.”
Suddenly, it was six months later and Michael was still caught in a whirlwind of all and nothing when his phone reminded him of a trip to LA, the word ‘Speedo’ flashing at him feeling almost like a slap across the face. He had agreed to do the photoshoot months ago, before things had been weird, when he himself thought things couldn’t actually become weird. He had deliberately chosen to be at the shoot at the same time as Ryan, because when you have to do the same thing thousands of times, having Ryan next to you was just better, because he made each of those thousand times fun, unintentionally making Michael a lot less irritated than he’d normally be. But now, the thought of being around Ryan wasn’t as pleasant anymore. He knew that, even if he somehow managed to avoid him, someone would force them back together, because they were MichaelAndRyan and it seemed unnatural for them to be apart, if the constant questions of “So, have you heard from Ryan, how is he?” within the past six months had been any indicator. For a while - a 20 minute lasting while - Michael had even thought about backing out of the shoot entirely, but he could pretty much hear his mother admonishing him for it in the back of his head (“Don’t be immature, Michael Fred!”) so in the end, he tossed a few things into his bag and went to LA.
When Michael arrived at the location of the photoshoot, he was left with no time to think about what he’d do or say when Ryan showed up. Ryan was already there, talking to the photographer, stretching a little. To anyone else he looked no different than usual, but Michael could tell he was tired, weeks and months of people pulling at him from all sides having taken their toll on Ryan’s always upbeat nature.
Ryan spotted him pretty much immediately and gave him a short wave and a smile, but stayed firmly wrapped up in his conversation, pointing at the blocks and the windows and gesturing around with his hands, seemingly trying to get some point across to the photographer. Ryan had a naturally good eye for detail, something that Michael was lacking entirely. Another reason why it helped to have Ryan around for photoshoots - he knew what would look good in the end.
Michael was still standing around at the edge of the pool when Ryan came over and stood next to him in silence for a moment, both of them looking at the water ahead of them.
“Nice tan.” Ryan commented.
Michael looked down his body, as if he was just now seeing the tanlines left by t-shirts and shorts instead of speedos.
“Yeah, I don’t think a speedo is the right thing to wear around the golf course.”
“Would sure as hell make it interesting though.”
Michael pulled a face. “Not when you see the people I see around the course sometimes.”
“True.” Ryan then finally looked over at Michael, studying his face from the side. “So. Is this gonna be weird?”
Michael looked back at him. “What?”
“This whole thing. Like, they’re planning some shots with just us two.”
“It’s fine. We’re grown ups, right? It’s just a few pictures.” For some reason, Michael’s voice sounded colder and more distant than he intended to.
Ryan nodded. “Yeah.”
So they did the photoshoot. Jumping off the blocks, underwaters and short videos of them swimming different strokes. Nothing out of the ordinary. During a break, one of the social media people from Speedo wanted a photo of Michael and Ryan to put on Instagram. Both Michael and Ryan hung onto the lane line, not touching on purpose. They smiled awkwardly and once the photo was taken, moved apart even further.
They didn’t really talk for the rest of the day, but sort of ran into each other in the locker room afterwards. They both had to laugh at the familiar situation and somehow, that made the whole thing seem easier.
“Dude, I think we can safely say that we suck at this pretend friends thing.” Ryan said around a smile.
“Horribly, actually.” Michael agreed.
“So do we stop pretending or do we stop being friends?”
“Are we still friends?”
“As far as I’m concerned, yeah. I mean, I guess it’s just different now?
Michael nodded. “It is.”
“You’re okay though, right?”
Michael thought for a moment. “I am, yeah. I mean, everything is sort of unplanned and I’m just going with it. Takes some getting used to. But it’s nice to just hop on a plane and go someplace without having to worry how far it’s gonna set you back in your training, you know. It’s like … I’m making my own decisions now? Like, before there was always Bob and Peter and my mom I took into consideration, what they would say if I skipped training. But now it’s just … it’s just me. It’s liberating.”
“Yeah well, you look …”
Michael smiled. “Out of shape, you can say it.”
“I was gonna say ‘content’, but hey, if you wanna call it ‘out of shape’, let’s roll with that. No pun intended.”
Michael laughed. “You look good though.”
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t really, but thanks.” He sighed, his face taking on a serious expression.
“You okay?”
Ryan shook his head again. “Again, not really.”
“Your show?”
“Yep.”
“Not what you expected?”
“Yes and no, kind of? I mean, they don’t show me shit, so I’m just guessing I’m gonna be the sex idiot again. And like, I’m okay with that, let everyone think what they want, you know. It’s too late to change the way people see me now, the damage has been done. People who mind don’t matter and people who matter don’t mind. But like, for something that is basically spun behind my back, they ask a lot of me. I feel like this is the first time in fucking months that there isn’t a camera in my face. And like, Devon fucking hates it. Kristin thinks it’s dumb. Mom’s only doing it because I’m doing it. Everything else is just kind of make-believe. I’m glad I’m not paying for that shit.”
“So tell them to make some changes. You’re an athlete, Ryan. Like, there’s not just the Olympics you need to worry about. You need to be on point all year round, not just every four years.”
“Dude, no need to tell me that. But like, I’m fucked. For now at least. I can only make changes for the next season.”
Michael’s eyes got huge. “You wanna do a second season?”
“See, that’s the thing. It’s actually fun to do the show. I see my mom a lot more than normally. And the babies. And I’m getting paid for it, so like, joke’s on them in a way. And like, now I know what needs to be changed and stuff so I could like, make things right the second time around.”
Michael nodded solemnly. “I get that, I guess. You just … you gotta do what feels right. Like, I know it sounds so stupid, but that’s just it.”
“Let’s get deep, MP.” Ryan said, the smile back on his face and in his voice.
“I’m still here tomorrow. Let’s hang out.” And Michael meant it.
Ryan pulled a face. “Honestly? I would love to. But I’m like, totally tied up. No sleep til Gainesville. Or well, plane to Gainesville, probably.” He checked his phone and winced a little. “Actually, I gotta take off like, five minutes ago.”
Michael pushed Ryan towards the exit. “Go, dude. I’ll still be here tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry though. Like, really. Not just for now. How shit went down and all, you know.”
Michael shrugged. “It’s okay. We need to get used to things. See if we can still stand each other without competition hanging in the air and clouding our judgement.”
Ryan smiled. “I can stand you, MP.” And then he waved and was out the door.
Later that evening, Michael got a text from Ryan. It was a photo of what appeared to be part of a menu at a restaurant and Ryan couldn’t decide what he wanted to eat. They were still texting back and forth hours later until, at some point, Ryan didn’t reply anymore and Michael just assumed he had fallen asleep.
The next day wasn’t really that different. Michael and Ryan maintained some sort of distance towards each other. They shot a glance here and there, but it seemed that they were in some sort of unspoken agreement to not immediately hang onto each other again, allowing one another to adapt and mostly making sure that no one got wind of them reconnecting and turning it into a bigger thing than it was. It seemed oddly like one of those cheesy 80s movies where the popular kid hangs out with the nerd, but keeps it a secret to keep their reputation in tact. Only that Michael and Ryan are both part of the same social group and there wasn’t really a reputation either of them had to worry about. They seemed to be friends, like people expected them to be. And yet, it still seemed to be something they both wanted to keep hidden.
With the tension from the previous day gone, Michael eased more into the photoshoot. He swam a few lazy laps with Brendan Hansen, listened to him as he excitedly talked about his baby girl and the joys of new fatherhood. To Michael, it seemed like tales from an alternate universe. He didn’t feel remotely old or ready enough to even think about starting a family and yet there were people he knew and sort of grew up with who already had families. They were roughly the same age so how come they were ready and he wasn’t?
That day, Michael left earlier than Ryan and got back on the plane to Baltimore. For the whole day, he had thought about talking to Ryan, asking him how he felt since he actually was the closest to him age-wise, if the whole starting-a-family-deal was just as foreign to Ryan as it was to him. But Ryan didn’t pick up the phone when Michael first called and then Michael got wrapped up in his family and suddenly, another week had passed.
“Dude, we gotta work on the talking to each other thing.” Ryan said when Michael finally had the guts to call him.
“I know, sorry. But things got like … I don’t know.”
“I think ‘crazy’ is the word you’re looking for Phelps. Jesus, and they say I’m the stupid one.”
“That’s the thing though, nothing got crazy. It’s like, I have that so much. Time passes and it feels like I never got anything done I wanted to do. But when you ask me what got in the way, I can’t say what it is. Days turn into weeks and I seriously don’t know what I’ve done in that time.”
“Sounds like you need some good ol kick in the ass by master Bowman.”
“Comeback? Bob’s gonna laugh in my face. And like, I’m gonna get those looks.”
“What looks?”
“The whole ‘I knew it’ looks. You have that fucking thing down to a T, by the way.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. Like, remember when we found out Brendan said he was gonna come back for London? You got that really smug grin on your face. And, like, no offense, but if I’m the one who ever puts that shit-eating smug on your face, I’m gonna jump off a cliff.”
Ryan laughed. “I can read people, MP. Can’t help it. I’ve still got a bet going on Aaron coming back.”
“You’ll lose that. No way Aaron’s coming back, man.”
“Shall I place a bet on you?”
Michael didn’t answer, but he could practically hear how wide Ryan’s grin got through the phone.
“I swear, if you say anything right now.” Michael threatened.
“I mean, are you for real?” And just like that, in the blink of an eye, Ryan’s tone had gone from playful to serious.
“I don’t know, dude. Like, nothing’s set in stone yet. I’m just throwing it around in my head.”
“Since when?”
“LA.”
“You seemed okay in LA.”
“I was. But like, I talked to Brendan a bit on the second day and it got me thinking.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing, really. But he kept talking about his baby girl and everything and I just thought that it’s so cool that he has something like that, you know? I mean, maybe I should be thinking about that as well? Like, having a family and all that. But to me that part of my life seems like years away.”
“Dude, I know. It’s like, Brendan is two years older than me. Kris was his age when Zay was born. And like, I don’t even have a girl, you know. Like, if I wanna get on this baby-thing, I’d kinda have to start, like, right now. Find a girl, settle down, make sure she’s right, start a family. It’s like that biological clock ticking thing. And just … dude, no. Like, the other day I watched Devon throw up after he had a banana and soda and thought it was awesome. I am nowhere near having a kid.”
“But you have swimming. Like, aside from watching your brother puke, which is gross, by the way, you can say that you’re too busy to start a family, because of training. But I don’t have that.”
“Coming out of retirement just to not settle down? That sure is one way to avoid awkward questions at family dinners.”
“I’m bored. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Like, a week ago you said to me that I should do what feels right. You gotta practise what you preach, MP. Do you wanna come back because it feels right? Because if it is, I’ve got your back, dude. Like 100%, all in, you can count on me. But if you’re just coming back to run away from reality, I won’t hesitate to call you out on it and make your life miserable.”
“It’s really just an idea. I haven’t actually said it out loud until now.”
“Not even to your mom? Or coach Bob?”
“Nope. They’d just get freaky intense right away. I need some perspective first.”
“I’m here for that.” Ryan assured him. “Hey, how about you come hang down here a bit? I mean, right now it sucks, because we’re still filming, but like, once I’m done and the show started and everything. Come down, MP. I’m gonna be training for Worlds so you’ll get all the perspective you need. And I promise I won’t bet on your return to swimming.”
“Yeah, that sounds … sounds good. But like, it may take a while. I got stuff to do.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m sure there’s something.”
“Like, I know you don’t wanna hear that right now, but dude, don’t run away from real life. It’s nice out there. Don’t keep yourself busy just to not see it.”
“Yeah.”
“Go out there and have fun, okay? Do what feels right.”
“Okay.”
“Talk to you soon, yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
Of course Michael didn’t talk to Ryan for another few weeks. Ryan had tried. He called a few times, but either Michael didn’t even pick up or he had some lame excuse why he couldn’t talk. Ryan got the hint soon enough and stopped trying. Even their Instagram-Twitter-communication stopped. It made Michael feel uneasy because, even if he didn’t want to admit it, it was weird to not see Ryan sort of live Michael’s life in a different yet similar way. But at the same time, not hearing or seeing anything from Ryan was a relief because the last thing Michael needed was the way Ryan was getting into his head.
Things sort of quieted down for a while. Michael threw himself into his golf game, Ryan wrapped up his show. Michael went back into his previous cycle of weeks of visits to different places that all blended into one. There was one girl he hung out with on what was a pretty regular basis. He shot a commercial in Vegas and partied inbetween like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Then the promo for Ryan’s show began and as much as Michael had avoided seeing him before, now he seemed to see him everywhere. They even aired one of Ryan’s promo-clips during his show which Michael was sure had surely been Ryan’s idea, making sure that Michael knew he still existed.
One day, Michael came home from a walk with the dogs and found Jeff lounging on the couch in front of the TV. He snorted when he noticed what his roommate was watching.
“Ellen? Are you too lazy to get up and turn on the XBox? No batteries in the remote?”
“Ryan’s gonna be on.”
Michael stared at him for a few moments.
Jeff shrugged. “I talked to Gene like two days ago. He told me. I thought I’d watch.”
“Did you turn into a chick? Do I have to get you checked for balls? Also, when the fuck did you start talking to Gene?”
“Like three years ago?”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“We’re not tight or anything, but his supposedly best friend was hanging out with my supposedly best friend so we just sorta started talking every once in a while.”
“How come you never said anything?”
“Do I need your permission to talk to people now?”
“No, just … whatever, forget it. So we’re watching this now, yeah?” He pointed at the TV.
“I’m watching it. You can stay or not. Besides, Matthew Perry is hilarious.”
So Michael flopped down on the couch and lifted Herman up into his lap, paying more attention to the dog than the TV. He only perked up when he heard Ryan’s name being mentioned and looked at the TV just as Ryan was walking into the studio, smiling coyly and giving a wave to a crowd of cheering middle-aged women.
Ryan looked good. Less tired and worn out than the last time Michael saw him. He exchanged pleasantries with Ellen and Matthew Perry and seemed a lot less awkward than he usually was when he had to do an interview. Ryan was notoriously bad at those, like the fact that he wasn’t on a pool deck completely erased his ability to think. It had always been Ryan’s problem. He was quick-witted and charming, but as soon as someone pointed a camera at him and asked him a question, almost all of that was lost and he turned into a stuttering idiot. On several occasions Michael had suggested for Ryan to sit down with Michael and his PR-Team for a crash course, but Ryan had always refused, preferring to be as real as he could be, even if that meant stuttering or mis-pronouncing words so much that they became entirely new words or saying things he probably shouldn’t be saying in front of a camera. In the end it made Ryan who he was, but even after all these years Michael couldn’t help wincing slightly at Ryan’s slip-ups.
Michael sort of dazed through the interview and didn’t really pay attention, but listened up when he heard his own name being mentioned when the conversation got to the topic of the Olympics in Rio.
“Now, is Michael Phelps gonna be there or not?”
Michael felt like all colour drained from his face as he stared at the TV and he swore his heart rate picked up as well. It wasn’t so much the question, because people were asking him if he would ever come back to swimming on a weekly basis. It was the fact that the question had been aimed at Ryan which worried him, considering the things Ryan knew and the fact that he just tended to speak before his brain could tell him not to.
“Well, he says he’s told everyone that he’s done swimming. He’s done with the sport.” Ryan was saying, a tiny hint of a grin on his face, like the one Michael had mentioned during their phonecall. The grin he didn’t want to put on Ryan’s face. “I don’t believe him.”
Michael felt himself tense up and he cursed himself for confiding in Ryan Lochte, of all people. Because instead of just saying that he’s not Michael Phelps and therefore can’t say anything about what Michael decides to do or not do, Ryan had to sit there and grin his smug ‘I know something you don’t’-grin and say that.
“So you think, because I was just gonna say, does it make you feel better that he won’t be there or would you be happy that he … because he’s your competition, right?”
Ryan had laughed at that, for whatever reason. What Ellen was saying was that Ryan could only win if Michael wasn’t there. Which was just wrong on all possible levels. For years, Michael had listened to so many people say that Ryan would never be able to get out of Michael’s shadow and no matter how often Michael denied it - or even lost to him - it still somehow remained a fact and Michael never understood how Ryan could be so chill about it that he actually laughed.
“Yeah. I mean, he’s one of them. Yes. But I mean, there’s so many young guys out there, they’re finding new ways to become great and there’s young kids out that have beaten me, have beaten Michael. So I can’t always focus all my energy just on Michael, I have to focus on everyone.”
Michael was stunned because that was actually a good answer. Like, even Peter would have approved of that.
“I think he’s gonna come back though.”
… and then Ryan ruined it. Seven words and Michael was ready to throw his TV out of the window.
“Really?” Ellen asked.
“Yeah.”
And there it was again. The grin. And this time, not just a hint of it. This time, even if you didn’t know Ryan, you could tell he knew something, but wasn’t going to say what it was. And it did't take a genius to know what it was.
Once the interview was over, Michael was off the couch, startling both Herman and Jeff in the process. Without a word he left the room while scrolling through the contacts in his phone.
“Wouldya look at that, Michael Phelps has discovered the iPhone.” Ryan said sarcastically as he was picking up the phone after a few rings.
“What the fuck has gotten into you, dude?”
Ryan paused for a moment. “Is there some context to this?”
“You told your little bitch of an assistant about my … idea.”
“Dude, I didn’t say a word to Gene, what the fuck is your problem?”
“So you think it’s a coincidence that I come home to seeing my roommate watching you on fucking Ellen DeGeneres because your so-called assistant told him you’re on the show. Of course just when you decide to tell Ellen that I’m thinking about coming out of retirement.”
“Um, yeah?”
Michael snorts.
“Listen Mike, I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but if you tell me something that’s meant to stay between us, that’s where it fucking stays. I didn’t say a word to anyone, okay? I had no idea Gene even still talked to Jeff so I sure as fuck had no idea about Gene telling him that I was on the show. Like, I don’t know how you handle things with Jeff, but Gene can talk to whoever he wants about whatever he wants. And really man, before you call me up to yell at me next time, you better fucking listen because I didn’t fucking rat you out on TV. She asked me a question and I answered it and told her what I thought and not what I know. You’re the paranoid freak who sees a conspiracy behind the whole thing.” Ryan took a deep breath, obviously agitated. “Why are you so angry, dude? Like, I’ve done nothing to you. If anything, I should be pissed off because you keep shutting yourself off whenever I tell you something you don’t like.”
“I don’t have time to talk right now, Ryan.”
Ryan laughed bitterly. “Of course you don’t. You have time to yell at me and accuse me of things I didn’t do, but god forbid you talk to me.” He took a breath again. “You know what, dude? Whatever. I’m done doing this. If you wanna call me when you get off that high horse of yours, then do it, but I’m not gonna waste my time getting yelled at, okay?”
Michael didn’t say anything.
“Bye, Michael.”
The line went dead immediately, without even so much as a second to give Michael a chance to respond. Not that he knew what he should say. He knew Ryan was right. Every word of his had hit the bullseye. But Michael had this build-in mixture of being horribly stubborn on top of his relatively immense pride so even though he knew Ryan was right, Michael would never tell him, especially not when they were fighting. It was an attitude problem and Ryan knew that. Him and Michael had known each other for a long time. They had more fights than anyone else Michael knew. And most of those fights had been Michael’s fault. Michael and Ryan were polar opposites in many ways and when they clashed, it could get heated. And Ryan was usually the first one to back off, because he hated being mad at anyone, whereas Michael held grudges like he was the Godfather. They had never properly made up after their fights though. Usually one of them - again, Ryan most of the time - would get fed up with the situation and just started talking again, making it seem like nothing had happened.
Something told Michael that this wouldn’t the case this time around. That this time, Ryan was going to be the Godfather.
Michael walked back out into the living room. Jeff was still lounging on the couch, but had changed the channel.
“Got it out of your system?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Cause like, you guys have issues, dude. Both of you. Honestly, you should just get it over with, have some angry sex and go back to this Kirk and Spock shit you guys had going a few years back. You were less annoying then.”
“What?” Michael stared at him.
“What are you not getting? The angry sex or the Kirk and Spock shit?”
“Both.”
“You and Ryan are the most co-dependent people I have ever met in my life, man. When I met you it was like you and Ryan were two halves of the same person. It’s like you’re the brain and he’s the instincts. You think before he acts. That’s why you two function the way you do and that’s also why you guys fight the way you do. And ever since you two stopped talking to each other the tension built up, because you both have no other way of release. That’s why Gene and I started talking more again, because we both knew that you guys do mean well and you probably don’t even realise what you’re doing, but I replace Ryan in your life the same way Gene replaces you in Ryan’s. But you need each other, Mike. Which brings me to the angry sex. Because by now that is probably the only thing that will ever make the tension between you and Ryan go away and lets you guys go back to normal. And to be honest, I hope that happens sooner than later because you are sort of insufferable at the moment.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m getting laid, thank you very much.”
“It’s not you getting laid that’s the problem. The problem is that you’re not getting laid by Ryan.”
“Dude, you need to stop watching this daytime TV shit. Ryan and I aren’t-“
Jeff didn’t let him finish. “You and Ryan are, Mike. I don’t know if Ryan knows or if he’s as much of an oblivious shit as you are, but you two are and you always have been. There’s nothing bad about it, it just is that way. What you two have been through in all those years was a unique thing, it’s just natural to become close in the process and develop feelings for each other that you simply can’t develop for anyone else who wasn’t there.”
“I’m not in love with Ryan.” Michael defended himself, but even to his own ears it sounded like a half-hearted attempt of denying the obvious. Jeff seemed to get to the same result, because instead of answering, he just looked at Michael with raised eyebrows.
Michael sighed. “Dude, you suck.”
Jeff smiled softly. “Not on purpose.”
Michael flopped back down on the couch, Herman immediately seeking him out again. “I fucked it up this time though. Ryan’s done.”
Jeff rolled his eyes and sorted. “Ryan’s never going to be done. You seriously have done whatever possible to piss that guy off and somehow, you guys still find something to fight about. He says he’s done, Mike. But he isn’t. You just need to get over your pride and apologise. And like, I don’t know what you have done this time and I don’t wanna know either, but you owe him an apology. Actually, you probably owe him about twenty apologies.”
“I know. But how?”
“Something tells me it would be enough to just call him and say it.”
“No, but that’s like … that’s too easy.”
“Seriously Mike, I don’t know. You know the guy better than I do, you figure it out.”
And for the next few weeks, that was what Michael did. The more he thought about what Jeff had said to him, the more he had to admit that his roommate had been right. The way Michael had felt about Ryan had always been different, he knew that. But now he was finally able to put a finger on that certain way of different and once he figured it out, it was like he was seeing clearly for the first time in his life.
He talked to this girl he somehow started dating. She was nice and much different from the girls he usually ended up with, so he actually felt bad when he had to let her down. He told her he liked her, which wasn’t a lie, but that he felt that he may not be as committed to their whole relationship in the same way she was and he hoped that things between them wouldn’t be too awkward since they knew the same people. She smiled at him, told him no hard feelings and said she appreciated his honesty.
Then Michael talked to his mom. He sat on her couch and let her take care of him and in the end, he told her he was gonna go back to Mexico and stay for a while and that he’d have to miss hers and Whitney’s birthdays but that he needed to be away to see through a few things. Debbie looked at him fondly, squeezed his hand and told him to take all the soul-searching time he needed and that she hoped he would get to the result that he was hoping for in the end.
And then Michael and Jeff took off to Mexico. Michael had contemplated going alone, but he knew that would eventually result in him coming back home after a week without having figured anything out. Sometimes, Michael couldn’t see the things right in front of his face and he needed someone to shove him at them and over the years, Jeff had taken on that role and turned out to be really good at it.
For the first few days, they played a lot of golf. Michael had gotten a lot better thanks to Hank, but Jeff still sucked, so Michael took it upon himself to show him a few things and give him pointers so Jeff wouldn’t embarrass himself and Michael completely.
They had been in Mexico for a week when Jeff addressed the issue of Ryan for the first time.
“So, not that I don’t appreciate a little getaway, but dude, you can’t run away forever. You gotta deal with Ryan.”
Michael sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “You’re starting to sound like him, do you know that?”
“Only proves that he’s apparently not as dumb as this TV show makes him seem.”
Michael eyes darkened as he looked at Jeff. “Dude, don’t.”
“What? I know he’s not stupid. But like, his show isn’t doing him any favours, is all I’m saying. I’m surprised he just lets it happen. Like, if this was you being shown that way, Peter would have an on-the-spot heart attack. Not even kidding.”
“Yeah, that’s just … I don’t know, he doesn’t care. He knows exactly what people think about him. And like, it’s almost like haters fuel him. I never figured out why he does it, but instead of getting pissed off, he just takes it even further.”
Jeff paused for a moment. “It’s a good way to deal, actually. You can’t get pissed off at every asshole, you know. You should ask him how he does it.”
“You’re subtle.”
“By which you mean I’m right. Did you come up with a plan to get him to speak to you again?”
Michael shook his head. “Everything seems not really enough. And like, he keeps tweeting about his show and all that and I can’t really work with that.”
Jeff looked confused.
“There’s thing that we do. Or at least I think that we’re doing it. When we didn’t speak after London, we sorta communicated through Twitter or Instagram without actually talking to each other.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t even know if he realised he was doing it, but we sorta started posting the same things? And I just figured that was our way of talking to each other even if we weren’t. Like, I post a photo of hanging out with Herman and he posts a photo of hanging out with Carter, that sort of thing.”
“What’s that supposed to tell you though?”
“That he’s doing okay. He knows I’m doing fine when Herman is around and I know he’s doing fine when Carter is around.”
“Why won’t you guys just talk to each other?”
“Because it’s not that easy.”
“Clearly, since we had to get all the way to Mexico because you apparently can’t even think straight when you’re in the same country as him.”
Michael didn’t respond.
The next morning, they were back out on the course with the sun burning down on them without mercy. Michael felt like re-applying sunscreen every two minutes because he was sweating it off that fast and him and Jeff and the guys they were hanging out with had already taken off their shirts a few minutes after arriving on the course.
“Dude, you should totally still be swimming. It would make days like today a whole lot easier to get through.” Jeff said as he lined up for his shot. “I swear, these shorts are sticking to my legs already.”
“So take them off.” hollered one of the other guys and Jeff just grinned while focussing on his shot.
Michael nearly dropped his club when an idea struck him. He waited for Jeff to complete his shot. Once he had and got out of the way for the next guy, Michael handed Jeff his phone.
“Take pictures.” he said, offering no further explanations, untying the strings that kept his shorts up.
“Mike … what are you doing?” Jeff said, averting his eyes as Michael’s shorts fell to the ground and he stepped out of them like it was no big deal to walk around the golf course in underwear.
“Talking to Ryan.” was all that Michael said.
Michael would never admit it out loud, but once he posted a collage of pictures of himself doing stupid shit on the golf course in underwear, he checked his phone every five minutes, checking if maybe Ryan had ‘liked’ the picture of favourited the tweet he sent or maybe even texted. And Michael knew that was just him hoping for the easy way out, that things would be easier if it was Ryan who started talking first. And yet, he still felt a pang to his chest when he went to bed much later and there was no sign of Ryan even so much as seeing the photos.
Michael also managed to catch the first episode of Ryan’s show and when that had finished, he had felt closer to calling him than he had been in weeks, just to tell him how horrible it was. Nothing about the show seemed remotely real and even though Ryan was surprisingly himself, his surroundings were so sickeningly staged that it made even Ryan seem like a caricature of himself in the process.
But the radio silence remained until Michael and Jeff left Mexico almost a month later and Michael was none the wiser about what to do to apologise to Ryan in a way he deserved. But soon the next chance presented itself when Michael was scheduled to be at a golf tournament in Jacksonville. As soon as Michael arrived there, he felt nervous, almost as if being in the same state as Ryan was forcing him to take action. He figured that maybe Ryan didn’t know Michael was close so he once again took a few pictures of things he knew Ryan would recognise and posted them online, but was once more met with no sign of life from Ryan.
Michael was close to actually rent a car and drive over to Gainesville, just to calm his nerves and make this nagging feeling of inaction go away. He figured he could just drive down, knock on Ryan’s door, maybe dodge a punch from Devon and then things would just somehow work out like they always did between them. But it was just then that he saw Ryan had posted a photo on Twitter. A photo of a pool. A pool in Charlotte. Michael almost yelled in frustration. So now he was here and he was so close to finally apologise to Ryan, only for Ryan to not be in Florida.
Michael went home for mother’s day, mostly to do a lot of grovelling to his mother and Whitney for missing their birthdays only to do nothing in Mexico. He took the family bowling and paid for dinner and buried Taylor and Connor underneath new toys and clothes. And yet, he still felt like all he ever did was constantly let everyone down only because he had to be stubborn and get his own way.
When he got back from the mother’s day festivities, Jeff was again sitting on the couch and as soon as Michael walked in, he muttered a rushed goodbye into his phone and put it on the coffee table, like he had somehow been caught in the act, leaving Michael immediately suspicious.
“Who was that?” he asked, not even hiding the accusing tone.
“No one.”
Michael just looked at him.
“Gene.” Jeff muttered.
“One” Michael said, “How can you play poker when you can’t even bluff? Two, why the fuck are you still talking to Gene?”
“Because he is about as fed up with Ryan as I am with you. You two are acting like children, do you know that? Watching you two pine for each other was entertaining for about a month, by now it’s exhausting. Get your shit together.”
“I’m not fucking pining.”
“Now who sucks at bluffing?” Jeff got up to leave the room. “By the way, Ryan’s back home in Florida now, he’s going to Canada in two weeks and from there straight to Cali. I love you like a brother Mike, but I swear to god I will beat to you death with your golf clubs if you don’t get your ass to Florida within the next two weeks.”
Jeff then left Michael alone and instead of sitting down on the couch, Michael kept standing in the middle of the room, his eyes glancing over to his suitcase, still standing in the corner of the room, not even unpacked yet.
A few hours later Michael was standing outside the door of Ryan’s house, knocking.
Michael couldn’t even properly remember how he got to Gainesville. But there was a lecture from Jeff and his suitcase somewhere in his memory and somehow he must have stroked out because now he was here and he had no idea what to do or what to say once that door eventually opened and Ryan was standing in front of him for the first time in months.
That thought got postponed however when the door opened and Devon was standing in front of him, staring at him in surprise.
“Um, hi Devon.”
“Thank fuck.” Devon muttered, then turned around, yelling towards the inside of the house. “Ry, it’s for you, I’m out!” He turned back around to Michael. “If you end up throwing shit, try not to break too much.” he said, before squeezing past him on the way out of the house.
“What?” Michael looked at his retreating back, but got no answer. Instead he heard footsteps approaching and when he turned back around to the door, he saw Ryan come around the corner from the hallway.
In the split second of Ryan still being out of sight and appearing in his eyeline, Michael felt like he was having a full-blown panic attack. He contemplated running after Devon or hiding in the bushes, but Ryan was officially too close and would notice so staying put was Michael’s only chance.
Ryan stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Michael. He didn’t even make it to the door completely. And then there were just standing there. Staring at each other, neither of them saying a word for a few moments.
It was eventually Michael who started speaking.
“I’m sorry.” he said, hoping to sound confident enough. “I know there’s like a million more things I should be saying, but that’s all I got for now.”
Ryan seemed to consider Michael’s words for a moment before turning back around and heading back into the house. “Close the door behind you.” he called back over his shoulder.
Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stepped into the house, closing the door. He left his suitcase standing by the door and followed Ryan into the house. He found Ryan sitting on the couch in the living room, looking back at him expectantly. Michael sat down on the other end of the couch, staring down at his hands.
“For what?” Ryan said after a few beats of silence hanging thick in the air between them.
Michael looked over at him. “Huh?”
“You said you’re sorry. For what?”
“Everything?”
“Specific.” Ryan muttered sarcastically.
“But I mean it. I am sorry. For everything.”
“No Mike. That’s not gonna do it. You pull the same shit over and over again and I usually just forgive you because not talking to you sucks. But you coming here and saying that you’re sorry for everything is just not gonna cut it this time.”
Michael could already feel himself getting agitated. How Ryan always managed to make him lose it so quickly still surprised him. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to fucking mean it. What good does it do if you tell me you’re sorry and we’re starting with the same shit tomorrow or whenever you decide to not trust me anymore?”
“I do trust you.”
“You do? So did I dream you throwing a tantrum at me because you thought I had blurted out one of your secrets on national TV? Like, I take a lot of your shit, Mike. I know you and your moods well enough. But when you accused me of telling anyone about something that is between you and me, that fucking sucked, dude. You know me, Mike. You know I’d never do that. But you promptly forgot about it because me being the bad guy agreed to some fucked-up idea you had in your head.”
Michael started chewing on his bottom lip and looked back down at his hands, suddenly feeling very much like a 10-year-old who was in for a lecture from his mother.
“Also, you need to fucking accept other people’s opinions, dude. You chose to retire. You can no longer shut people up by jumping into the pool and proving them wrong. So newsflash, every so often people will tell you something you don’t wanna hear and you can’t always run away from it to freaking Mexico and get wasted on the golf course. You’re twenty-seven years old, Mike. You eventually need to start dealing with your shit.”
Michael was just about to say something in his defense, but Ryan’s comment hit him like a punch to the face. “So you did see them.”
“See what?”
“The pictures.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Of course I saw them. Like, even when I try to not see your face everywhere, I still do. For some reason, Gene seems to have jumped ship to Team Phelps.”
“Yeah, Jeff is probably wearing a Team Lochte t-shirt to bed.”
“Clever guy.”
“Don’t tell him that, he’s not gonna stop gloating otherwise.” Michael paused. “I really am sorry.” Michael then said in earnest. “I honestly don’t know what it is about you, but you sort of intensify everything, you know. I go twice as hard when you push me, but I also take it twice as bad when you criticise me. So when I saw you on Ellen and you said those things, it was just, I don’t know. It got to me more than it would if anyone else had said it.”
“MP, no matter if you told me about your idea or not, I would’ve said the same thing. I will always say the same thing when someone asks me whether or not you’re coming back.”
“Yeah?”
“Dude, of course. Our lives are just connected in that way and if I’m honest, it sucks not having you out there anymore. So like, of course I want you to come back.”
“I don’t know, Ryan. I mean, I do want to, in a way. But I don’t want people to go all crazy over it. Like, if I could just come back, swim my races and leave again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“I think you only have yourself to blame for that not happening.”
“Yeah.” Michael sighed. “Fuck my life, huh?”
Ryan chuckled. “Guess so.”
They let silence settle over them once again, but it seemed much easier now with the air clear of tension.
Ryan leaned back against the couch, looking over at Michael. “Apology accepted, by the way.” He reached his arm out, waiting for Michael to bump fists with him.
“Thank you.” Michael tapped his fist against Ryan’s.
Ryan pulled his hand back, but scooted closer towards the other end of the couch, closer to Michael.
“I talked to my mom the other day. About us fighting. She laughed at me.”
“Yeah?”
Ryan nodded. “She said we’re worse than she and Dad were when they were married. Like, before it got to the evil fighting. She said we fight in a way where we can’t get enough of it. That’s why we’re doing it all the time.”
“At least she didn’t say that we need to have angry sex.”
“Who said that?”
“Jeff. He said we need to have angry sex, because that’s the only way we can save our co-dependent relationship and go back to our Kirk and Spock shit. His exact words.”
“Kirk and who?”
“Spock. Star Trek, you idiot.”
“Right.” Ryan paused. “My mom said something else.”
“Yeah? What was it?”
“She said that if we just admitted to ourselves and to each other that we’re in love with each other, we’d stop fighting so much. Like fighting is the only outlet for our ‘feelings’.” He made airquotes around the word.
“Jeff says the same thing.”
“So there must be something to it then.”
“When there’s smoke, there’s usually fire, right?”
Ryan grinned. “I think we’ve established that there definitely is fire.”
Ryan then scooted even closer to Michael, until their thighs were firmly pressed against each other. Michael just sat rooted on the spot, feeling almost paralysed as Ryan slowly snaked his arm around his torso and manoeuvred his leg across Michael’s lap, moving further until he was properly straddling Michael’s lap.
“For the record.” Ryan said, his face getting closer and closer to Michael’s. “You still piss me off.”
“Not nearly half as much as you piss me off.”
Michael had barely finished his sentence when Ryan kissed him. He moved impossibly closer to Michael, pressing against him in all the right places, kissing him like it was the last thing he’d ever do in his life. Michael kissed back just as passionately, digging his fingers into Ryan’s hips, holding him close and he actually felt the pent-up irritation and the month-long tension disappearing between the both of them.
It seemed like Ryan didn’t wanna disconnect from Michael’s lips to speak so when he did, it came out in a mumbled mess against his lips.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Ryan said before kissing Michael again. “I don’t think there’s any angry sex happening right now, because I’m far from angry at this whole thing going on.” To prove his point, he was grinding against Michael, making sure he felt how hard Ryan already was. “But there are some other things I would really like to do to you, preferably within the next two minutes. But I’d much rather do them to you in my bedroom.”
Michael just nodded. “Yeah.” He loosened his grip on Ryan, but nearly whimpered when Ryan slid off his lap and headed for the stairs, taking three at a time on the way up.
“Dude, when I said I’m not angry, that wasn’t a challenge for you to make me. Get your ass up here!” came Ryan’s voice just seconds later and Michael practically jumped off the couch and sprinted up the stairs.
When Michael reached Ryan’s room, all that registered with him was Carter dashing past him before the door slammed shut and Michael found himself with his back pressed against it, Ryan pinning him to the wood by holding onto his hips and attacking his lips again. Without so much as breaking their kiss, he started yanking Michael’s belt undone before letting his blue shorts drop to the floor. He palmed Michael through his underwear which made Michael break their kiss and let his head bump against the door behind him.
“You’re gonna give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that.”
“I’ll risk it if you keep doing that.” Michael thrust his hips forward, seeking contact.
“I did have something else in mind.” Ryan started nipping along Michael’s jawline.
“As long as you keep your hand on my dick, I don’t care.”
Michael could feel Ryan smile against his skin. “It’s not gonna be my hand.”
Michael was just about to ask what exactly it was that Ryan had in mind, when Ryan sunk down onto his knees in front of Michael, looking up at him with a nearly devilish smirk and a glint in his eyes. This time, Michael did whimper and his head made contact with the door again.
“I take it you agree with my idea for once?”
Michael just nodded and swallowed as he felt Ryan breathing heavily against his cock, even with the underwear inbetween.
“Good.”
Ryan then slipped his fingers into the waistband of Michael’s underwear and pulled it down, letting it slide down to his ankles. He gripped the hem of Michael’s t-shirt and moved it up his chest, sucking hard on Michael’s hipbones once he had access. Michael took the t-shirt from Ryan and pulled it over his head before leaning back against the door again, just as Ryan licked along his cock for the first time.
Michael groaned and gripped onto strands of Ryan’s hair as Ryan continued to work his tongue around Michael. He licked up and down a few times, deliberately stopped before he got near the head, driving Michael to the edge of sanity. He started to buck his hips, but Ryan kept him firmly pinned to the door as his tongue continued to work Michael.
Ryan kept up his little game of driving Michael crazy for a few more torturous moments. And just as Michael was about to yank Ryan back by the hair and tell him to just take his dick into his evil mouth or else, Ryan did just that, as if he could read Michael’s mind. He circled the head with just the tip of his tongue for a few teasing seconds before he wrapped his lips around Michael’s cock and started to suck him down. He started out painfully slow, but it didn’t take long for Ryan to bob his head around Michael’s dick faster and faster, almost deep-throating Michael pretty much right away.
Michael kept hitting his head against the door with every time the head of his dick his the back of Ryan’s throat. He started to feel a dull pain from it, but it seemed to be the only way he could deal with the shots of pleasure going through his body and he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it, headache be damned.
Ryan continued to work Michael and if his groans were any indication, he enjoyed it about as much as Michael did. When Michael risked a look down, he noticed a pretty impressive tent forming at the front of Ryan’s shorts and the thought that it was him that caused it nearly tipped him over the edge.
He reached for Ryan’s wrist and squeezed, hoping to get his attention. “Ryan, I’m gonna-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because as if Ryan could feel how close Michael was, he suddenly sucked even harder and Michael’s brain completely flat-lined as he came hard down Ryan’s throat and as he felt Ryan swallowing around him, he almost wished he could come right again just from the feeling alone.
Ryan slowly licked up and down Michael’s cock a few more times for good measure before letting it slip out of his mouth. He leaned back and just smiled up at Michael.
“Shit.” Michael said between panting hard. “If this was the non-angry version, I don’t think I’m gonna survive the intensity of the angry version.”
Ryan chuckled and got back up, staying close to Michael. He brought his hand up to the back of Michael’s head and tenderly touched him. “You’re okay? You hit yourself pretty hard a few times.”
“I’ll survive.” Michael assured them and then leaned forward, capturing Ryan’s lips with his.
They kissed slowly and nowhere near as heated as before and Ryan happily gasped against Michael’s mouth as their tongues moved against one another. Michael then pushed himself away from the door and stepped out of the clothes pooling by his feet before guiding Ryan over to his bed, only breaking contact when Ryan fell down onto the mattress. He moved back on the bed until he was fully laying down and scrambled to get his t-shirt off as Michael followed him, moving up his body until he was close enough to kiss again.
“Those shorts need to go.” he muttered, glancing down.
“Make them.” Ryan challenged.
Michael knelt up and unbuttoned Ryan’s shorts, pulling them down as soon as Ryan lifted his hips off the bed. He looked up and down Ryan’s body as he was laying underneath him in nothing but his white briefs that were already stained a little by precome.
“This looks so much better than on TV.” Michael mused and reached out to lightly touch Ryan. Ryan’s hands shot up to Michael’s thighs and he held on tightly as Michael continued to slowly run his fingers over Ryan’s cock that was still covered by his underwear. Ryan let out shuddery breaths and, as much as he wanted to watch, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Michael continued running just the tips of his fingers along Ryan’s dick and Ryan kept bucking up against him, desperately seeking out more of Michael’s touch. Soon, Michael pulled down Ryan’s briefs and tugged them off before wrapping his hand around Ryan, watching in awe as Ryan arched his back and bucked into Michael’s hand.
Michael leaned forward and supported his weight on his outstretched arm as his hand kept working Ryan at a slow pace, his eyes fixed on Ryan’s face, taking in every tiny detail as he reacted to Michael’s hand on him, watching as Ryan practically melted away under his touch.
“You’re so hot, Ryan.” Michael whispered and when Ryan opened his eyes, Michael was right there and he looked at him like he’d never seen anything else in his life and Ryan craned his neck to kiss Michael again.
They kept kissing and Michael sped up his hand around Ryan and the resulting moans disappeared somewhere between their locked lips. Michael started twisting his wrist lightly on every downstroke and Ryan’s moans got louder with each time until he broke their kiss and came, calling out Michael’s name.
Michael kept watching Ryan as he rode out his orgasm before letting go of his dick and wiping his hand on Ryan’s sheets before he flopped down next to him, lazily throwing his leg across Ryan’s. He pressed short kisses against Ryan’s shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his body as he tried getting his breathing under control again.
“This definitely beats being angry at each other.” Michael said against Ryan’s shoulder and moved even closer to Ryan.
Ryan turned to look at Michael and smiled at him. “How about we try to not be angry at each other for a while? See how that works out.”
“I like that idea. And like, at least I know how I can shut you up in case you do piss me off.”
Ryan snorted. “Please, I’ll have you incoherent before you can get me out of my pants.”
“You think you’re that good?”
“Dude, I know I’m that good. You have the bump on your head to prove I’m that good.”
Michael laughed lightly against Ryan’s skin. He felt his eyes getting heavy. “I like how you get to my head.” he mumbled sleepily. “You make everything better. Even the bumps.”
Ryan smiled. “Likewise, MP.” and then just laid there, listening as Michael fell asleep against him.
Pairing: Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10,458
Summary: Absolutely no one could get into your head like Ryan Lochte could.
Disclaimer: Doubt it
Author's Note: More than half of this was written before the MP-reunion rumours appeared and the rest just fell into place afterwards
Ryan Lochte was a champion in many ways. And not just in the pool. He had an impeccable talent for always saying something that made you smile fondly and roll your eyes at him at the same time. He was kind and generous and always had a smile ready, even for the people that didn’t deserve it. You could leave him in front of a clothing rack a mile long and it would take him a record time to somehow find the two items that would clash the most and make an outfit out of them, shoes included.
But Ryan also had one talent that no one really knew he possessed, especially considering him being labelled as ‘the dumb one’ on a pretty much daily basis.
Absolutely no one could get into your head like Ryan Lochte could.
**
Life after London was a rollercoaster for Michael. Suddenly, he had all this time, but he didn’t know what to effectively do with it. So he ended up doing a million things at once. A game of golf in Scotland turned into a poker tournament in Canada and ended up in a party in Vegas followed by a different party on the Bahamas and some more golf in Mexico. Somehow inbetween all that, the Ravens won the Superbowl which seemed to chew up a whole week that Michael has trouble remembering. There were a few different girls at many different locations but, just like the rest, they all sort of blended into one after a while.
But somehow, that one thing that always stood out was Ryan. With their lives being taken into two different directions, it had been tough - impossible, actually - to stay in touch. It didn’t help that Michael was naturally too lazy to do anything and Ryan was a social bee (Michael had called him a social butterfly once, which didn’t go over well. “Butterflies are so fucking girly, man. Call me something else.”) who was constantly buzzing from one thing to the other. So in the course of actions, they had just sort of stopped talking to each other.
Them not talking didn’t mean they didn’t communicate though. Michael couldn’t tell when or how it happened, but he knew for sure that it was Ryan who had started it, because Ryan had figured out the art of getting into Michael’s head better than anyone else. At first Michael had thought it was a coincidence, but soon he noticed that Ryan seemed to somehow copy him, no matter what he did. If Michael tweeted about golf, so would Ryan. If Michael put a photo of Herman online, soon after there would be a photo of Carter. The winter had been harsh and long and even though Michael didn’t really get cold easily, he started wearing a beanie, first out of convenience, later out of habit. And when he saw a photo of Ryan wearing a beanie, he noticed the pattern. Because Ryan had to be crazier than usual to wear a beanie on a night out in Florida.
So Michael’s overall conclusion was that this was Ryan’s way of telling him he was okay. He couldn’t talk to Michael in person because they had officially crossed the line where a phone call would be awkward instead of casual. So when Ryan did the same things as Michael, it was his way of saying “You’re okay doing what you do. I’m okay doing what I do by doing the same things as you.”
Suddenly, it was six months later and Michael was still caught in a whirlwind of all and nothing when his phone reminded him of a trip to LA, the word ‘Speedo’ flashing at him feeling almost like a slap across the face. He had agreed to do the photoshoot months ago, before things had been weird, when he himself thought things couldn’t actually become weird. He had deliberately chosen to be at the shoot at the same time as Ryan, because when you have to do the same thing thousands of times, having Ryan next to you was just better, because he made each of those thousand times fun, unintentionally making Michael a lot less irritated than he’d normally be. But now, the thought of being around Ryan wasn’t as pleasant anymore. He knew that, even if he somehow managed to avoid him, someone would force them back together, because they were MichaelAndRyan and it seemed unnatural for them to be apart, if the constant questions of “So, have you heard from Ryan, how is he?” within the past six months had been any indicator. For a while - a 20 minute lasting while - Michael had even thought about backing out of the shoot entirely, but he could pretty much hear his mother admonishing him for it in the back of his head (“Don’t be immature, Michael Fred!”) so in the end, he tossed a few things into his bag and went to LA.
When Michael arrived at the location of the photoshoot, he was left with no time to think about what he’d do or say when Ryan showed up. Ryan was already there, talking to the photographer, stretching a little. To anyone else he looked no different than usual, but Michael could tell he was tired, weeks and months of people pulling at him from all sides having taken their toll on Ryan’s always upbeat nature.
Ryan spotted him pretty much immediately and gave him a short wave and a smile, but stayed firmly wrapped up in his conversation, pointing at the blocks and the windows and gesturing around with his hands, seemingly trying to get some point across to the photographer. Ryan had a naturally good eye for detail, something that Michael was lacking entirely. Another reason why it helped to have Ryan around for photoshoots - he knew what would look good in the end.
Michael was still standing around at the edge of the pool when Ryan came over and stood next to him in silence for a moment, both of them looking at the water ahead of them.
“Nice tan.” Ryan commented.
Michael looked down his body, as if he was just now seeing the tanlines left by t-shirts and shorts instead of speedos.
“Yeah, I don’t think a speedo is the right thing to wear around the golf course.”
“Would sure as hell make it interesting though.”
Michael pulled a face. “Not when you see the people I see around the course sometimes.”
“True.” Ryan then finally looked over at Michael, studying his face from the side. “So. Is this gonna be weird?”
Michael looked back at him. “What?”
“This whole thing. Like, they’re planning some shots with just us two.”
“It’s fine. We’re grown ups, right? It’s just a few pictures.” For some reason, Michael’s voice sounded colder and more distant than he intended to.
Ryan nodded. “Yeah.”
So they did the photoshoot. Jumping off the blocks, underwaters and short videos of them swimming different strokes. Nothing out of the ordinary. During a break, one of the social media people from Speedo wanted a photo of Michael and Ryan to put on Instagram. Both Michael and Ryan hung onto the lane line, not touching on purpose. They smiled awkwardly and once the photo was taken, moved apart even further.
They didn’t really talk for the rest of the day, but sort of ran into each other in the locker room afterwards. They both had to laugh at the familiar situation and somehow, that made the whole thing seem easier.
“Dude, I think we can safely say that we suck at this pretend friends thing.” Ryan said around a smile.
“Horribly, actually.” Michael agreed.
“So do we stop pretending or do we stop being friends?”
“Are we still friends?”
“As far as I’m concerned, yeah. I mean, I guess it’s just different now?
Michael nodded. “It is.”
“You’re okay though, right?”
Michael thought for a moment. “I am, yeah. I mean, everything is sort of unplanned and I’m just going with it. Takes some getting used to. But it’s nice to just hop on a plane and go someplace without having to worry how far it’s gonna set you back in your training, you know. It’s like … I’m making my own decisions now? Like, before there was always Bob and Peter and my mom I took into consideration, what they would say if I skipped training. But now it’s just … it’s just me. It’s liberating.”
“Yeah well, you look …”
Michael smiled. “Out of shape, you can say it.”
“I was gonna say ‘content’, but hey, if you wanna call it ‘out of shape’, let’s roll with that. No pun intended.”
Michael laughed. “You look good though.”
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t really, but thanks.” He sighed, his face taking on a serious expression.
“You okay?”
Ryan shook his head again. “Again, not really.”
“Your show?”
“Yep.”
“Not what you expected?”
“Yes and no, kind of? I mean, they don’t show me shit, so I’m just guessing I’m gonna be the sex idiot again. And like, I’m okay with that, let everyone think what they want, you know. It’s too late to change the way people see me now, the damage has been done. People who mind don’t matter and people who matter don’t mind. But like, for something that is basically spun behind my back, they ask a lot of me. I feel like this is the first time in fucking months that there isn’t a camera in my face. And like, Devon fucking hates it. Kristin thinks it’s dumb. Mom’s only doing it because I’m doing it. Everything else is just kind of make-believe. I’m glad I’m not paying for that shit.”
“So tell them to make some changes. You’re an athlete, Ryan. Like, there’s not just the Olympics you need to worry about. You need to be on point all year round, not just every four years.”
“Dude, no need to tell me that. But like, I’m fucked. For now at least. I can only make changes for the next season.”
Michael’s eyes got huge. “You wanna do a second season?”
“See, that’s the thing. It’s actually fun to do the show. I see my mom a lot more than normally. And the babies. And I’m getting paid for it, so like, joke’s on them in a way. And like, now I know what needs to be changed and stuff so I could like, make things right the second time around.”
Michael nodded solemnly. “I get that, I guess. You just … you gotta do what feels right. Like, I know it sounds so stupid, but that’s just it.”
“Let’s get deep, MP.” Ryan said, the smile back on his face and in his voice.
“I’m still here tomorrow. Let’s hang out.” And Michael meant it.
Ryan pulled a face. “Honestly? I would love to. But I’m like, totally tied up. No sleep til Gainesville. Or well, plane to Gainesville, probably.” He checked his phone and winced a little. “Actually, I gotta take off like, five minutes ago.”
Michael pushed Ryan towards the exit. “Go, dude. I’ll still be here tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry though. Like, really. Not just for now. How shit went down and all, you know.”
Michael shrugged. “It’s okay. We need to get used to things. See if we can still stand each other without competition hanging in the air and clouding our judgement.”
Ryan smiled. “I can stand you, MP.” And then he waved and was out the door.
Later that evening, Michael got a text from Ryan. It was a photo of what appeared to be part of a menu at a restaurant and Ryan couldn’t decide what he wanted to eat. They were still texting back and forth hours later until, at some point, Ryan didn’t reply anymore and Michael just assumed he had fallen asleep.
The next day wasn’t really that different. Michael and Ryan maintained some sort of distance towards each other. They shot a glance here and there, but it seemed that they were in some sort of unspoken agreement to not immediately hang onto each other again, allowing one another to adapt and mostly making sure that no one got wind of them reconnecting and turning it into a bigger thing than it was. It seemed oddly like one of those cheesy 80s movies where the popular kid hangs out with the nerd, but keeps it a secret to keep their reputation in tact. Only that Michael and Ryan are both part of the same social group and there wasn’t really a reputation either of them had to worry about. They seemed to be friends, like people expected them to be. And yet, it still seemed to be something they both wanted to keep hidden.
With the tension from the previous day gone, Michael eased more into the photoshoot. He swam a few lazy laps with Brendan Hansen, listened to him as he excitedly talked about his baby girl and the joys of new fatherhood. To Michael, it seemed like tales from an alternate universe. He didn’t feel remotely old or ready enough to even think about starting a family and yet there were people he knew and sort of grew up with who already had families. They were roughly the same age so how come they were ready and he wasn’t?
That day, Michael left earlier than Ryan and got back on the plane to Baltimore. For the whole day, he had thought about talking to Ryan, asking him how he felt since he actually was the closest to him age-wise, if the whole starting-a-family-deal was just as foreign to Ryan as it was to him. But Ryan didn’t pick up the phone when Michael first called and then Michael got wrapped up in his family and suddenly, another week had passed.
“Dude, we gotta work on the talking to each other thing.” Ryan said when Michael finally had the guts to call him.
“I know, sorry. But things got like … I don’t know.”
“I think ‘crazy’ is the word you’re looking for Phelps. Jesus, and they say I’m the stupid one.”
“That’s the thing though, nothing got crazy. It’s like, I have that so much. Time passes and it feels like I never got anything done I wanted to do. But when you ask me what got in the way, I can’t say what it is. Days turn into weeks and I seriously don’t know what I’ve done in that time.”
“Sounds like you need some good ol kick in the ass by master Bowman.”
“Comeback? Bob’s gonna laugh in my face. And like, I’m gonna get those looks.”
“What looks?”
“The whole ‘I knew it’ looks. You have that fucking thing down to a T, by the way.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. Like, remember when we found out Brendan said he was gonna come back for London? You got that really smug grin on your face. And, like, no offense, but if I’m the one who ever puts that shit-eating smug on your face, I’m gonna jump off a cliff.”
Ryan laughed. “I can read people, MP. Can’t help it. I’ve still got a bet going on Aaron coming back.”
“You’ll lose that. No way Aaron’s coming back, man.”
“Shall I place a bet on you?”
Michael didn’t answer, but he could practically hear how wide Ryan’s grin got through the phone.
“I swear, if you say anything right now.” Michael threatened.
“I mean, are you for real?” And just like that, in the blink of an eye, Ryan’s tone had gone from playful to serious.
“I don’t know, dude. Like, nothing’s set in stone yet. I’m just throwing it around in my head.”
“Since when?”
“LA.”
“You seemed okay in LA.”
“I was. But like, I talked to Brendan a bit on the second day and it got me thinking.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing, really. But he kept talking about his baby girl and everything and I just thought that it’s so cool that he has something like that, you know? I mean, maybe I should be thinking about that as well? Like, having a family and all that. But to me that part of my life seems like years away.”
“Dude, I know. It’s like, Brendan is two years older than me. Kris was his age when Zay was born. And like, I don’t even have a girl, you know. Like, if I wanna get on this baby-thing, I’d kinda have to start, like, right now. Find a girl, settle down, make sure she’s right, start a family. It’s like that biological clock ticking thing. And just … dude, no. Like, the other day I watched Devon throw up after he had a banana and soda and thought it was awesome. I am nowhere near having a kid.”
“But you have swimming. Like, aside from watching your brother puke, which is gross, by the way, you can say that you’re too busy to start a family, because of training. But I don’t have that.”
“Coming out of retirement just to not settle down? That sure is one way to avoid awkward questions at family dinners.”
“I’m bored. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Like, a week ago you said to me that I should do what feels right. You gotta practise what you preach, MP. Do you wanna come back because it feels right? Because if it is, I’ve got your back, dude. Like 100%, all in, you can count on me. But if you’re just coming back to run away from reality, I won’t hesitate to call you out on it and make your life miserable.”
“It’s really just an idea. I haven’t actually said it out loud until now.”
“Not even to your mom? Or coach Bob?”
“Nope. They’d just get freaky intense right away. I need some perspective first.”
“I’m here for that.” Ryan assured him. “Hey, how about you come hang down here a bit? I mean, right now it sucks, because we’re still filming, but like, once I’m done and the show started and everything. Come down, MP. I’m gonna be training for Worlds so you’ll get all the perspective you need. And I promise I won’t bet on your return to swimming.”
“Yeah, that sounds … sounds good. But like, it may take a while. I got stuff to do.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m sure there’s something.”
“Like, I know you don’t wanna hear that right now, but dude, don’t run away from real life. It’s nice out there. Don’t keep yourself busy just to not see it.”
“Yeah.”
“Go out there and have fun, okay? Do what feels right.”
“Okay.”
“Talk to you soon, yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
Of course Michael didn’t talk to Ryan for another few weeks. Ryan had tried. He called a few times, but either Michael didn’t even pick up or he had some lame excuse why he couldn’t talk. Ryan got the hint soon enough and stopped trying. Even their Instagram-Twitter-communication stopped. It made Michael feel uneasy because, even if he didn’t want to admit it, it was weird to not see Ryan sort of live Michael’s life in a different yet similar way. But at the same time, not hearing or seeing anything from Ryan was a relief because the last thing Michael needed was the way Ryan was getting into his head.
Things sort of quieted down for a while. Michael threw himself into his golf game, Ryan wrapped up his show. Michael went back into his previous cycle of weeks of visits to different places that all blended into one. There was one girl he hung out with on what was a pretty regular basis. He shot a commercial in Vegas and partied inbetween like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Then the promo for Ryan’s show began and as much as Michael had avoided seeing him before, now he seemed to see him everywhere. They even aired one of Ryan’s promo-clips during his show which Michael was sure had surely been Ryan’s idea, making sure that Michael knew he still existed.
One day, Michael came home from a walk with the dogs and found Jeff lounging on the couch in front of the TV. He snorted when he noticed what his roommate was watching.
“Ellen? Are you too lazy to get up and turn on the XBox? No batteries in the remote?”
“Ryan’s gonna be on.”
Michael stared at him for a few moments.
Jeff shrugged. “I talked to Gene like two days ago. He told me. I thought I’d watch.”
“Did you turn into a chick? Do I have to get you checked for balls? Also, when the fuck did you start talking to Gene?”
“Like three years ago?”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“We’re not tight or anything, but his supposedly best friend was hanging out with my supposedly best friend so we just sorta started talking every once in a while.”
“How come you never said anything?”
“Do I need your permission to talk to people now?”
“No, just … whatever, forget it. So we’re watching this now, yeah?” He pointed at the TV.
“I’m watching it. You can stay or not. Besides, Matthew Perry is hilarious.”
So Michael flopped down on the couch and lifted Herman up into his lap, paying more attention to the dog than the TV. He only perked up when he heard Ryan’s name being mentioned and looked at the TV just as Ryan was walking into the studio, smiling coyly and giving a wave to a crowd of cheering middle-aged women.
Ryan looked good. Less tired and worn out than the last time Michael saw him. He exchanged pleasantries with Ellen and Matthew Perry and seemed a lot less awkward than he usually was when he had to do an interview. Ryan was notoriously bad at those, like the fact that he wasn’t on a pool deck completely erased his ability to think. It had always been Ryan’s problem. He was quick-witted and charming, but as soon as someone pointed a camera at him and asked him a question, almost all of that was lost and he turned into a stuttering idiot. On several occasions Michael had suggested for Ryan to sit down with Michael and his PR-Team for a crash course, but Ryan had always refused, preferring to be as real as he could be, even if that meant stuttering or mis-pronouncing words so much that they became entirely new words or saying things he probably shouldn’t be saying in front of a camera. In the end it made Ryan who he was, but even after all these years Michael couldn’t help wincing slightly at Ryan’s slip-ups.
Michael sort of dazed through the interview and didn’t really pay attention, but listened up when he heard his own name being mentioned when the conversation got to the topic of the Olympics in Rio.
“Now, is Michael Phelps gonna be there or not?”
Michael felt like all colour drained from his face as he stared at the TV and he swore his heart rate picked up as well. It wasn’t so much the question, because people were asking him if he would ever come back to swimming on a weekly basis. It was the fact that the question had been aimed at Ryan which worried him, considering the things Ryan knew and the fact that he just tended to speak before his brain could tell him not to.
“Well, he says he’s told everyone that he’s done swimming. He’s done with the sport.” Ryan was saying, a tiny hint of a grin on his face, like the one Michael had mentioned during their phonecall. The grin he didn’t want to put on Ryan’s face. “I don’t believe him.”
Michael felt himself tense up and he cursed himself for confiding in Ryan Lochte, of all people. Because instead of just saying that he’s not Michael Phelps and therefore can’t say anything about what Michael decides to do or not do, Ryan had to sit there and grin his smug ‘I know something you don’t’-grin and say that.
“So you think, because I was just gonna say, does it make you feel better that he won’t be there or would you be happy that he … because he’s your competition, right?”
Ryan had laughed at that, for whatever reason. What Ellen was saying was that Ryan could only win if Michael wasn’t there. Which was just wrong on all possible levels. For years, Michael had listened to so many people say that Ryan would never be able to get out of Michael’s shadow and no matter how often Michael denied it - or even lost to him - it still somehow remained a fact and Michael never understood how Ryan could be so chill about it that he actually laughed.
“Yeah. I mean, he’s one of them. Yes. But I mean, there’s so many young guys out there, they’re finding new ways to become great and there’s young kids out that have beaten me, have beaten Michael. So I can’t always focus all my energy just on Michael, I have to focus on everyone.”
Michael was stunned because that was actually a good answer. Like, even Peter would have approved of that.
“I think he’s gonna come back though.”
… and then Ryan ruined it. Seven words and Michael was ready to throw his TV out of the window.
“Really?” Ellen asked.
“Yeah.”
And there it was again. The grin. And this time, not just a hint of it. This time, even if you didn’t know Ryan, you could tell he knew something, but wasn’t going to say what it was. And it did't take a genius to know what it was.
Once the interview was over, Michael was off the couch, startling both Herman and Jeff in the process. Without a word he left the room while scrolling through the contacts in his phone.
“Wouldya look at that, Michael Phelps has discovered the iPhone.” Ryan said sarcastically as he was picking up the phone after a few rings.
“What the fuck has gotten into you, dude?”
Ryan paused for a moment. “Is there some context to this?”
“You told your little bitch of an assistant about my … idea.”
“Dude, I didn’t say a word to Gene, what the fuck is your problem?”
“So you think it’s a coincidence that I come home to seeing my roommate watching you on fucking Ellen DeGeneres because your so-called assistant told him you’re on the show. Of course just when you decide to tell Ellen that I’m thinking about coming out of retirement.”
“Um, yeah?”
Michael snorts.
“Listen Mike, I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but if you tell me something that’s meant to stay between us, that’s where it fucking stays. I didn’t say a word to anyone, okay? I had no idea Gene even still talked to Jeff so I sure as fuck had no idea about Gene telling him that I was on the show. Like, I don’t know how you handle things with Jeff, but Gene can talk to whoever he wants about whatever he wants. And really man, before you call me up to yell at me next time, you better fucking listen because I didn’t fucking rat you out on TV. She asked me a question and I answered it and told her what I thought and not what I know. You’re the paranoid freak who sees a conspiracy behind the whole thing.” Ryan took a deep breath, obviously agitated. “Why are you so angry, dude? Like, I’ve done nothing to you. If anything, I should be pissed off because you keep shutting yourself off whenever I tell you something you don’t like.”
“I don’t have time to talk right now, Ryan.”
Ryan laughed bitterly. “Of course you don’t. You have time to yell at me and accuse me of things I didn’t do, but god forbid you talk to me.” He took a breath again. “You know what, dude? Whatever. I’m done doing this. If you wanna call me when you get off that high horse of yours, then do it, but I’m not gonna waste my time getting yelled at, okay?”
Michael didn’t say anything.
“Bye, Michael.”
The line went dead immediately, without even so much as a second to give Michael a chance to respond. Not that he knew what he should say. He knew Ryan was right. Every word of his had hit the bullseye. But Michael had this build-in mixture of being horribly stubborn on top of his relatively immense pride so even though he knew Ryan was right, Michael would never tell him, especially not when they were fighting. It was an attitude problem and Ryan knew that. Him and Michael had known each other for a long time. They had more fights than anyone else Michael knew. And most of those fights had been Michael’s fault. Michael and Ryan were polar opposites in many ways and when they clashed, it could get heated. And Ryan was usually the first one to back off, because he hated being mad at anyone, whereas Michael held grudges like he was the Godfather. They had never properly made up after their fights though. Usually one of them - again, Ryan most of the time - would get fed up with the situation and just started talking again, making it seem like nothing had happened.
Something told Michael that this wouldn’t the case this time around. That this time, Ryan was going to be the Godfather.
Michael walked back out into the living room. Jeff was still lounging on the couch, but had changed the channel.
“Got it out of your system?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Cause like, you guys have issues, dude. Both of you. Honestly, you should just get it over with, have some angry sex and go back to this Kirk and Spock shit you guys had going a few years back. You were less annoying then.”
“What?” Michael stared at him.
“What are you not getting? The angry sex or the Kirk and Spock shit?”
“Both.”
“You and Ryan are the most co-dependent people I have ever met in my life, man. When I met you it was like you and Ryan were two halves of the same person. It’s like you’re the brain and he’s the instincts. You think before he acts. That’s why you two function the way you do and that’s also why you guys fight the way you do. And ever since you two stopped talking to each other the tension built up, because you both have no other way of release. That’s why Gene and I started talking more again, because we both knew that you guys do mean well and you probably don’t even realise what you’re doing, but I replace Ryan in your life the same way Gene replaces you in Ryan’s. But you need each other, Mike. Which brings me to the angry sex. Because by now that is probably the only thing that will ever make the tension between you and Ryan go away and lets you guys go back to normal. And to be honest, I hope that happens sooner than later because you are sort of insufferable at the moment.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m getting laid, thank you very much.”
“It’s not you getting laid that’s the problem. The problem is that you’re not getting laid by Ryan.”
“Dude, you need to stop watching this daytime TV shit. Ryan and I aren’t-“
Jeff didn’t let him finish. “You and Ryan are, Mike. I don’t know if Ryan knows or if he’s as much of an oblivious shit as you are, but you two are and you always have been. There’s nothing bad about it, it just is that way. What you two have been through in all those years was a unique thing, it’s just natural to become close in the process and develop feelings for each other that you simply can’t develop for anyone else who wasn’t there.”
“I’m not in love with Ryan.” Michael defended himself, but even to his own ears it sounded like a half-hearted attempt of denying the obvious. Jeff seemed to get to the same result, because instead of answering, he just looked at Michael with raised eyebrows.
Michael sighed. “Dude, you suck.”
Jeff smiled softly. “Not on purpose.”
Michael flopped back down on the couch, Herman immediately seeking him out again. “I fucked it up this time though. Ryan’s done.”
Jeff rolled his eyes and sorted. “Ryan’s never going to be done. You seriously have done whatever possible to piss that guy off and somehow, you guys still find something to fight about. He says he’s done, Mike. But he isn’t. You just need to get over your pride and apologise. And like, I don’t know what you have done this time and I don’t wanna know either, but you owe him an apology. Actually, you probably owe him about twenty apologies.”
“I know. But how?”
“Something tells me it would be enough to just call him and say it.”
“No, but that’s like … that’s too easy.”
“Seriously Mike, I don’t know. You know the guy better than I do, you figure it out.”
And for the next few weeks, that was what Michael did. The more he thought about what Jeff had said to him, the more he had to admit that his roommate had been right. The way Michael had felt about Ryan had always been different, he knew that. But now he was finally able to put a finger on that certain way of different and once he figured it out, it was like he was seeing clearly for the first time in his life.
He talked to this girl he somehow started dating. She was nice and much different from the girls he usually ended up with, so he actually felt bad when he had to let her down. He told her he liked her, which wasn’t a lie, but that he felt that he may not be as committed to their whole relationship in the same way she was and he hoped that things between them wouldn’t be too awkward since they knew the same people. She smiled at him, told him no hard feelings and said she appreciated his honesty.
Then Michael talked to his mom. He sat on her couch and let her take care of him and in the end, he told her he was gonna go back to Mexico and stay for a while and that he’d have to miss hers and Whitney’s birthdays but that he needed to be away to see through a few things. Debbie looked at him fondly, squeezed his hand and told him to take all the soul-searching time he needed and that she hoped he would get to the result that he was hoping for in the end.
And then Michael and Jeff took off to Mexico. Michael had contemplated going alone, but he knew that would eventually result in him coming back home after a week without having figured anything out. Sometimes, Michael couldn’t see the things right in front of his face and he needed someone to shove him at them and over the years, Jeff had taken on that role and turned out to be really good at it.
For the first few days, they played a lot of golf. Michael had gotten a lot better thanks to Hank, but Jeff still sucked, so Michael took it upon himself to show him a few things and give him pointers so Jeff wouldn’t embarrass himself and Michael completely.
They had been in Mexico for a week when Jeff addressed the issue of Ryan for the first time.
“So, not that I don’t appreciate a little getaway, but dude, you can’t run away forever. You gotta deal with Ryan.”
Michael sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “You’re starting to sound like him, do you know that?”
“Only proves that he’s apparently not as dumb as this TV show makes him seem.”
Michael eyes darkened as he looked at Jeff. “Dude, don’t.”
“What? I know he’s not stupid. But like, his show isn’t doing him any favours, is all I’m saying. I’m surprised he just lets it happen. Like, if this was you being shown that way, Peter would have an on-the-spot heart attack. Not even kidding.”
“Yeah, that’s just … I don’t know, he doesn’t care. He knows exactly what people think about him. And like, it’s almost like haters fuel him. I never figured out why he does it, but instead of getting pissed off, he just takes it even further.”
Jeff paused for a moment. “It’s a good way to deal, actually. You can’t get pissed off at every asshole, you know. You should ask him how he does it.”
“You’re subtle.”
“By which you mean I’m right. Did you come up with a plan to get him to speak to you again?”
Michael shook his head. “Everything seems not really enough. And like, he keeps tweeting about his show and all that and I can’t really work with that.”
Jeff looked confused.
“There’s thing that we do. Or at least I think that we’re doing it. When we didn’t speak after London, we sorta communicated through Twitter or Instagram without actually talking to each other.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t even know if he realised he was doing it, but we sorta started posting the same things? And I just figured that was our way of talking to each other even if we weren’t. Like, I post a photo of hanging out with Herman and he posts a photo of hanging out with Carter, that sort of thing.”
“What’s that supposed to tell you though?”
“That he’s doing okay. He knows I’m doing fine when Herman is around and I know he’s doing fine when Carter is around.”
“Why won’t you guys just talk to each other?”
“Because it’s not that easy.”
“Clearly, since we had to get all the way to Mexico because you apparently can’t even think straight when you’re in the same country as him.”
Michael didn’t respond.
The next morning, they were back out on the course with the sun burning down on them without mercy. Michael felt like re-applying sunscreen every two minutes because he was sweating it off that fast and him and Jeff and the guys they were hanging out with had already taken off their shirts a few minutes after arriving on the course.
“Dude, you should totally still be swimming. It would make days like today a whole lot easier to get through.” Jeff said as he lined up for his shot. “I swear, these shorts are sticking to my legs already.”
“So take them off.” hollered one of the other guys and Jeff just grinned while focussing on his shot.
Michael nearly dropped his club when an idea struck him. He waited for Jeff to complete his shot. Once he had and got out of the way for the next guy, Michael handed Jeff his phone.
“Take pictures.” he said, offering no further explanations, untying the strings that kept his shorts up.
“Mike … what are you doing?” Jeff said, averting his eyes as Michael’s shorts fell to the ground and he stepped out of them like it was no big deal to walk around the golf course in underwear.
“Talking to Ryan.” was all that Michael said.
Michael would never admit it out loud, but once he posted a collage of pictures of himself doing stupid shit on the golf course in underwear, he checked his phone every five minutes, checking if maybe Ryan had ‘liked’ the picture of favourited the tweet he sent or maybe even texted. And Michael knew that was just him hoping for the easy way out, that things would be easier if it was Ryan who started talking first. And yet, he still felt a pang to his chest when he went to bed much later and there was no sign of Ryan even so much as seeing the photos.
Michael also managed to catch the first episode of Ryan’s show and when that had finished, he had felt closer to calling him than he had been in weeks, just to tell him how horrible it was. Nothing about the show seemed remotely real and even though Ryan was surprisingly himself, his surroundings were so sickeningly staged that it made even Ryan seem like a caricature of himself in the process.
But the radio silence remained until Michael and Jeff left Mexico almost a month later and Michael was none the wiser about what to do to apologise to Ryan in a way he deserved. But soon the next chance presented itself when Michael was scheduled to be at a golf tournament in Jacksonville. As soon as Michael arrived there, he felt nervous, almost as if being in the same state as Ryan was forcing him to take action. He figured that maybe Ryan didn’t know Michael was close so he once again took a few pictures of things he knew Ryan would recognise and posted them online, but was once more met with no sign of life from Ryan.
Michael was close to actually rent a car and drive over to Gainesville, just to calm his nerves and make this nagging feeling of inaction go away. He figured he could just drive down, knock on Ryan’s door, maybe dodge a punch from Devon and then things would just somehow work out like they always did between them. But it was just then that he saw Ryan had posted a photo on Twitter. A photo of a pool. A pool in Charlotte. Michael almost yelled in frustration. So now he was here and he was so close to finally apologise to Ryan, only for Ryan to not be in Florida.
Michael went home for mother’s day, mostly to do a lot of grovelling to his mother and Whitney for missing their birthdays only to do nothing in Mexico. He took the family bowling and paid for dinner and buried Taylor and Connor underneath new toys and clothes. And yet, he still felt like all he ever did was constantly let everyone down only because he had to be stubborn and get his own way.
When he got back from the mother’s day festivities, Jeff was again sitting on the couch and as soon as Michael walked in, he muttered a rushed goodbye into his phone and put it on the coffee table, like he had somehow been caught in the act, leaving Michael immediately suspicious.
“Who was that?” he asked, not even hiding the accusing tone.
“No one.”
Michael just looked at him.
“Gene.” Jeff muttered.
“One” Michael said, “How can you play poker when you can’t even bluff? Two, why the fuck are you still talking to Gene?”
“Because he is about as fed up with Ryan as I am with you. You two are acting like children, do you know that? Watching you two pine for each other was entertaining for about a month, by now it’s exhausting. Get your shit together.”
“I’m not fucking pining.”
“Now who sucks at bluffing?” Jeff got up to leave the room. “By the way, Ryan’s back home in Florida now, he’s going to Canada in two weeks and from there straight to Cali. I love you like a brother Mike, but I swear to god I will beat to you death with your golf clubs if you don’t get your ass to Florida within the next two weeks.”
Jeff then left Michael alone and instead of sitting down on the couch, Michael kept standing in the middle of the room, his eyes glancing over to his suitcase, still standing in the corner of the room, not even unpacked yet.
A few hours later Michael was standing outside the door of Ryan’s house, knocking.
Michael couldn’t even properly remember how he got to Gainesville. But there was a lecture from Jeff and his suitcase somewhere in his memory and somehow he must have stroked out because now he was here and he had no idea what to do or what to say once that door eventually opened and Ryan was standing in front of him for the first time in months.
That thought got postponed however when the door opened and Devon was standing in front of him, staring at him in surprise.
“Um, hi Devon.”
“Thank fuck.” Devon muttered, then turned around, yelling towards the inside of the house. “Ry, it’s for you, I’m out!” He turned back around to Michael. “If you end up throwing shit, try not to break too much.” he said, before squeezing past him on the way out of the house.
“What?” Michael looked at his retreating back, but got no answer. Instead he heard footsteps approaching and when he turned back around to the door, he saw Ryan come around the corner from the hallway.
In the split second of Ryan still being out of sight and appearing in his eyeline, Michael felt like he was having a full-blown panic attack. He contemplated running after Devon or hiding in the bushes, but Ryan was officially too close and would notice so staying put was Michael’s only chance.
Ryan stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Michael. He didn’t even make it to the door completely. And then there were just standing there. Staring at each other, neither of them saying a word for a few moments.
It was eventually Michael who started speaking.
“I’m sorry.” he said, hoping to sound confident enough. “I know there’s like a million more things I should be saying, but that’s all I got for now.”
Ryan seemed to consider Michael’s words for a moment before turning back around and heading back into the house. “Close the door behind you.” he called back over his shoulder.
Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stepped into the house, closing the door. He left his suitcase standing by the door and followed Ryan into the house. He found Ryan sitting on the couch in the living room, looking back at him expectantly. Michael sat down on the other end of the couch, staring down at his hands.
“For what?” Ryan said after a few beats of silence hanging thick in the air between them.
Michael looked over at him. “Huh?”
“You said you’re sorry. For what?”
“Everything?”
“Specific.” Ryan muttered sarcastically.
“But I mean it. I am sorry. For everything.”
“No Mike. That’s not gonna do it. You pull the same shit over and over again and I usually just forgive you because not talking to you sucks. But you coming here and saying that you’re sorry for everything is just not gonna cut it this time.”
Michael could already feel himself getting agitated. How Ryan always managed to make him lose it so quickly still surprised him. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to fucking mean it. What good does it do if you tell me you’re sorry and we’re starting with the same shit tomorrow or whenever you decide to not trust me anymore?”
“I do trust you.”
“You do? So did I dream you throwing a tantrum at me because you thought I had blurted out one of your secrets on national TV? Like, I take a lot of your shit, Mike. I know you and your moods well enough. But when you accused me of telling anyone about something that is between you and me, that fucking sucked, dude. You know me, Mike. You know I’d never do that. But you promptly forgot about it because me being the bad guy agreed to some fucked-up idea you had in your head.”
Michael started chewing on his bottom lip and looked back down at his hands, suddenly feeling very much like a 10-year-old who was in for a lecture from his mother.
“Also, you need to fucking accept other people’s opinions, dude. You chose to retire. You can no longer shut people up by jumping into the pool and proving them wrong. So newsflash, every so often people will tell you something you don’t wanna hear and you can’t always run away from it to freaking Mexico and get wasted on the golf course. You’re twenty-seven years old, Mike. You eventually need to start dealing with your shit.”
Michael was just about to say something in his defense, but Ryan’s comment hit him like a punch to the face. “So you did see them.”
“See what?”
“The pictures.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Of course I saw them. Like, even when I try to not see your face everywhere, I still do. For some reason, Gene seems to have jumped ship to Team Phelps.”
“Yeah, Jeff is probably wearing a Team Lochte t-shirt to bed.”
“Clever guy.”
“Don’t tell him that, he’s not gonna stop gloating otherwise.” Michael paused. “I really am sorry.” Michael then said in earnest. “I honestly don’t know what it is about you, but you sort of intensify everything, you know. I go twice as hard when you push me, but I also take it twice as bad when you criticise me. So when I saw you on Ellen and you said those things, it was just, I don’t know. It got to me more than it would if anyone else had said it.”
“MP, no matter if you told me about your idea or not, I would’ve said the same thing. I will always say the same thing when someone asks me whether or not you’re coming back.”
“Yeah?”
“Dude, of course. Our lives are just connected in that way and if I’m honest, it sucks not having you out there anymore. So like, of course I want you to come back.”
“I don’t know, Ryan. I mean, I do want to, in a way. But I don’t want people to go all crazy over it. Like, if I could just come back, swim my races and leave again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“I think you only have yourself to blame for that not happening.”
“Yeah.” Michael sighed. “Fuck my life, huh?”
Ryan chuckled. “Guess so.”
They let silence settle over them once again, but it seemed much easier now with the air clear of tension.
Ryan leaned back against the couch, looking over at Michael. “Apology accepted, by the way.” He reached his arm out, waiting for Michael to bump fists with him.
“Thank you.” Michael tapped his fist against Ryan’s.
Ryan pulled his hand back, but scooted closer towards the other end of the couch, closer to Michael.
“I talked to my mom the other day. About us fighting. She laughed at me.”
“Yeah?”
Ryan nodded. “She said we’re worse than she and Dad were when they were married. Like, before it got to the evil fighting. She said we fight in a way where we can’t get enough of it. That’s why we’re doing it all the time.”
“At least she didn’t say that we need to have angry sex.”
“Who said that?”
“Jeff. He said we need to have angry sex, because that’s the only way we can save our co-dependent relationship and go back to our Kirk and Spock shit. His exact words.”
“Kirk and who?”
“Spock. Star Trek, you idiot.”
“Right.” Ryan paused. “My mom said something else.”
“Yeah? What was it?”
“She said that if we just admitted to ourselves and to each other that we’re in love with each other, we’d stop fighting so much. Like fighting is the only outlet for our ‘feelings’.” He made airquotes around the word.
“Jeff says the same thing.”
“So there must be something to it then.”
“When there’s smoke, there’s usually fire, right?”
Ryan grinned. “I think we’ve established that there definitely is fire.”
Ryan then scooted even closer to Michael, until their thighs were firmly pressed against each other. Michael just sat rooted on the spot, feeling almost paralysed as Ryan slowly snaked his arm around his torso and manoeuvred his leg across Michael’s lap, moving further until he was properly straddling Michael’s lap.
“For the record.” Ryan said, his face getting closer and closer to Michael’s. “You still piss me off.”
“Not nearly half as much as you piss me off.”
Michael had barely finished his sentence when Ryan kissed him. He moved impossibly closer to Michael, pressing against him in all the right places, kissing him like it was the last thing he’d ever do in his life. Michael kissed back just as passionately, digging his fingers into Ryan’s hips, holding him close and he actually felt the pent-up irritation and the month-long tension disappearing between the both of them.
It seemed like Ryan didn’t wanna disconnect from Michael’s lips to speak so when he did, it came out in a mumbled mess against his lips.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Ryan said before kissing Michael again. “I don’t think there’s any angry sex happening right now, because I’m far from angry at this whole thing going on.” To prove his point, he was grinding against Michael, making sure he felt how hard Ryan already was. “But there are some other things I would really like to do to you, preferably within the next two minutes. But I’d much rather do them to you in my bedroom.”
Michael just nodded. “Yeah.” He loosened his grip on Ryan, but nearly whimpered when Ryan slid off his lap and headed for the stairs, taking three at a time on the way up.
“Dude, when I said I’m not angry, that wasn’t a challenge for you to make me. Get your ass up here!” came Ryan’s voice just seconds later and Michael practically jumped off the couch and sprinted up the stairs.
When Michael reached Ryan’s room, all that registered with him was Carter dashing past him before the door slammed shut and Michael found himself with his back pressed against it, Ryan pinning him to the wood by holding onto his hips and attacking his lips again. Without so much as breaking their kiss, he started yanking Michael’s belt undone before letting his blue shorts drop to the floor. He palmed Michael through his underwear which made Michael break their kiss and let his head bump against the door behind him.
“You’re gonna give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that.”
“I’ll risk it if you keep doing that.” Michael thrust his hips forward, seeking contact.
“I did have something else in mind.” Ryan started nipping along Michael’s jawline.
“As long as you keep your hand on my dick, I don’t care.”
Michael could feel Ryan smile against his skin. “It’s not gonna be my hand.”
Michael was just about to ask what exactly it was that Ryan had in mind, when Ryan sunk down onto his knees in front of Michael, looking up at him with a nearly devilish smirk and a glint in his eyes. This time, Michael did whimper and his head made contact with the door again.
“I take it you agree with my idea for once?”
Michael just nodded and swallowed as he felt Ryan breathing heavily against his cock, even with the underwear inbetween.
“Good.”
Ryan then slipped his fingers into the waistband of Michael’s underwear and pulled it down, letting it slide down to his ankles. He gripped the hem of Michael’s t-shirt and moved it up his chest, sucking hard on Michael’s hipbones once he had access. Michael took the t-shirt from Ryan and pulled it over his head before leaning back against the door again, just as Ryan licked along his cock for the first time.
Michael groaned and gripped onto strands of Ryan’s hair as Ryan continued to work his tongue around Michael. He licked up and down a few times, deliberately stopped before he got near the head, driving Michael to the edge of sanity. He started to buck his hips, but Ryan kept him firmly pinned to the door as his tongue continued to work Michael.
Ryan kept up his little game of driving Michael crazy for a few more torturous moments. And just as Michael was about to yank Ryan back by the hair and tell him to just take his dick into his evil mouth or else, Ryan did just that, as if he could read Michael’s mind. He circled the head with just the tip of his tongue for a few teasing seconds before he wrapped his lips around Michael’s cock and started to suck him down. He started out painfully slow, but it didn’t take long for Ryan to bob his head around Michael’s dick faster and faster, almost deep-throating Michael pretty much right away.
Michael kept hitting his head against the door with every time the head of his dick his the back of Ryan’s throat. He started to feel a dull pain from it, but it seemed to be the only way he could deal with the shots of pleasure going through his body and he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it, headache be damned.
Ryan continued to work Michael and if his groans were any indication, he enjoyed it about as much as Michael did. When Michael risked a look down, he noticed a pretty impressive tent forming at the front of Ryan’s shorts and the thought that it was him that caused it nearly tipped him over the edge.
He reached for Ryan’s wrist and squeezed, hoping to get his attention. “Ryan, I’m gonna-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because as if Ryan could feel how close Michael was, he suddenly sucked even harder and Michael’s brain completely flat-lined as he came hard down Ryan’s throat and as he felt Ryan swallowing around him, he almost wished he could come right again just from the feeling alone.
Ryan slowly licked up and down Michael’s cock a few more times for good measure before letting it slip out of his mouth. He leaned back and just smiled up at Michael.
“Shit.” Michael said between panting hard. “If this was the non-angry version, I don’t think I’m gonna survive the intensity of the angry version.”
Ryan chuckled and got back up, staying close to Michael. He brought his hand up to the back of Michael’s head and tenderly touched him. “You’re okay? You hit yourself pretty hard a few times.”
“I’ll survive.” Michael assured them and then leaned forward, capturing Ryan’s lips with his.
They kissed slowly and nowhere near as heated as before and Ryan happily gasped against Michael’s mouth as their tongues moved against one another. Michael then pushed himself away from the door and stepped out of the clothes pooling by his feet before guiding Ryan over to his bed, only breaking contact when Ryan fell down onto the mattress. He moved back on the bed until he was fully laying down and scrambled to get his t-shirt off as Michael followed him, moving up his body until he was close enough to kiss again.
“Those shorts need to go.” he muttered, glancing down.
“Make them.” Ryan challenged.
Michael knelt up and unbuttoned Ryan’s shorts, pulling them down as soon as Ryan lifted his hips off the bed. He looked up and down Ryan’s body as he was laying underneath him in nothing but his white briefs that were already stained a little by precome.
“This looks so much better than on TV.” Michael mused and reached out to lightly touch Ryan. Ryan’s hands shot up to Michael’s thighs and he held on tightly as Michael continued to slowly run his fingers over Ryan’s cock that was still covered by his underwear. Ryan let out shuddery breaths and, as much as he wanted to watch, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Michael continued running just the tips of his fingers along Ryan’s dick and Ryan kept bucking up against him, desperately seeking out more of Michael’s touch. Soon, Michael pulled down Ryan’s briefs and tugged them off before wrapping his hand around Ryan, watching in awe as Ryan arched his back and bucked into Michael’s hand.
Michael leaned forward and supported his weight on his outstretched arm as his hand kept working Ryan at a slow pace, his eyes fixed on Ryan’s face, taking in every tiny detail as he reacted to Michael’s hand on him, watching as Ryan practically melted away under his touch.
“You’re so hot, Ryan.” Michael whispered and when Ryan opened his eyes, Michael was right there and he looked at him like he’d never seen anything else in his life and Ryan craned his neck to kiss Michael again.
They kept kissing and Michael sped up his hand around Ryan and the resulting moans disappeared somewhere between their locked lips. Michael started twisting his wrist lightly on every downstroke and Ryan’s moans got louder with each time until he broke their kiss and came, calling out Michael’s name.
Michael kept watching Ryan as he rode out his orgasm before letting go of his dick and wiping his hand on Ryan’s sheets before he flopped down next to him, lazily throwing his leg across Ryan’s. He pressed short kisses against Ryan’s shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his body as he tried getting his breathing under control again.
“This definitely beats being angry at each other.” Michael said against Ryan’s shoulder and moved even closer to Ryan.
Ryan turned to look at Michael and smiled at him. “How about we try to not be angry at each other for a while? See how that works out.”
“I like that idea. And like, at least I know how I can shut you up in case you do piss me off.”
Ryan snorted. “Please, I’ll have you incoherent before you can get me out of my pants.”
“You think you’re that good?”
“Dude, I know I’m that good. You have the bump on your head to prove I’m that good.”
Michael laughed lightly against Ryan’s skin. He felt his eyes getting heavy. “I like how you get to my head.” he mumbled sleepily. “You make everything better. Even the bumps.”
Ryan smiled. “Likewise, MP.” and then just laid there, listening as Michael fell asleep against him.