What It's Like To Be (with) Him
Title: What It's Like To Be (with) Him
Author: saar_fantasy
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte
Rating: PG (with a touch of NC-17)
Warnings: buh? the POV maybe...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people used in this fic. The words and the plot are mine.
Summary: Sometimes you wonder what it's like to be Ryan Lochte
You don't get it...You don't get how he gets away with those interviews with a simple "Whoo! Team America, jeah!" and then the reporter would smile or even laugh full out and they'd just let him go.
You, on the other hand, have to deal with all the questions. You even have to watch yourself on how you answer because Bob and your mom would probably fight about who gets to kill you first if you'd ever mess up an interview.
He just uses his charm and it's fixed. The interviewer will buy whatever he says, even if it doesn't make any sense. When they ask him about you, he'll smile and shrug, telling them that he couldn't wish for a better rival. That he's sad to see you retire after London.
You're two completely different persons. He's the chill-laid back guy, while you're always focused, always on edge; you sometimes wonder how it would be like to be him.
Sometimes you wonder what it's like to be Ryan Lochte.
--++--
After your last race, nobody really knows how to treat you.
There's pats on the back from friends, team mates an about every other swimmer in the competition. There's your mother and your sisters, crying onto your shoulder. There's Bob, who actually looks like he's debating between slapping you and kissing you, but just settles on an awkward hug and a friendly pat on the back instead.
There are the interviews, with, of course, the question if you didn't change your mind about your retirement. You haven't, and you're not planning on having any regrets either.
Then there's Ryan... Ryan; who practically jumps into your arms, yelling ecstatically, "You did it man!", then says more quietly, "This is it...I'm glad I've got to experience this all with you."
You are fucking glad too.
--++--
"Let's go celebrate!"
It's Ryan, of course it is. You're tired, but he ends up dragging you along anyway. You end up watching hm, claiming the dancefloor like he always belonged there. Dancing until the last man has left the floor, then keeps on going on his own.
Ryan has different sides to himself: there's goofball Ryan, party-animal Ryan, there's affectionate Ryan -what? you and him hug quite a lot. No biggie-. Then there's focused Ryan, which not many people get to see, except when you're watching him race or train in the pool.
It's like he has different personalities, but in the end, it's just Ryan. Ryan is Ryan. It's as simple as that. He just knows how to make the switch between different emotions when he has to.
That's something you struggle with sometimes...
--++--
You've seen the change in Ryan in London, but after London he changes even more.
Shit hits the preverbial fan when word gets out that his brother got caught with drugs and then they drag up an old case of his dad too of course.
You are probably one of the few people who Ryan told about his dad, so it isn't a shocker to you. You know Ryan and his dad are cool. Still, you wish you could be there for him, only you don't know how.
You're skipping through the TV stations on the screen when you suddenly freeze on TMZ. They're at Ryan's place, practically jumping on him from the moment he steps out of his car.
You see how tense he is when one of them shoves a microphone under his nose. How different his smile is.
You want to smack that stupid new reporter guy around the head when he asks the most stupid question ever.
"What are you gonna do about your brother?"
If they think Ryan is gonna defy his own brother because of his 'status', they've got another thing coming.
"I'm not gonna do anything about it." you hear Ryan answer and you smile. "If anything, I'm gonna keep on supporting him in whatever he's gonna do next. Try and be a better big brother to him. That's all I want to do about it."
You watch him push his way through the crowd towards the house, because they keep following him with their cameras until he closes the door. Not slamming,you notice, just closing. It makes you even more proud of him and of his composure.
You pick up your iphone and send him a text; ' You tell 'em, bro!'
You know he got probably a gazillion texts from other people, but it's only a few seconds before you get a text back. It feels good to know you're the frst person he replies to.
'Thanks. I'm not gonna feed those vultures more meat.'
You blink, then laugh. Typical Ryan...always trying to keep things funny, even if he's feeling quite bad hmself.
Too bad for him that you can see right through him though...
--++--
It doesn't take long until they invade your personal property to ask you about the 'Lochte case'.
"Whatever Ryan does or doesn't do is his business." You answer them while trying to get to your front door. "I do know he's made the right decision," you continue, "Family are the most important part in your life, you should always keep on supporting them and that's what he does. He supports his family and I support him and that's that."
You close the door in all of their faces, then rest your forehead against the door and sigh.
You halfly expect a text to come in from Ryan, but nothing comes. No text, no phonecall. Nothing.
You can't help but wonder if you said something wrong.
--++--
Then a few days later, you pull your car back up your driveway, only to notice there's already another, slightly familiar car, there. It's a rental car, but you know there's only one person you know who would rent that type of car.
You jump out of the passenger's seat and then you see him, sitting on the front step of your door. You can't help your lips from quirking up when he looks up at you and grins.
God, he's still as beautiful as he used to be. Maybe even more so. The Floridian sun has done him good.
You walk up to him and pull him into a one armed bro-like hug, which doesn't look so bro-like anymore when he wraps his arms around your neck and presses his nose into the crook of your neck.
You chuckle, a little awkwardly, then push him away a little so you can open the door. Herman and Stella are immediately there to greet you, getting even more enthusiastic when they see you've brought a guest with you.
You walk through to your living room, Ryan trails quietly behind you. Then you realize that he hasn't said a word, which is very uncharacteristic for Ryan.
You slump down on your couch and Ryan sits down next to you, you can practically feel how tense his muscles are, even when there's still some space between you. You turn to him with a quizical look.
"'S up dude?" you ask him, trying for casual, casual always works with him. "Why are you here?"
He doesn't look at you when he shrugs. "Just came to say thanks."
You're on the verge of asking "thanks for what?", but then you know.
"Sure, man." you answer with a smile. "I've got your back, you've got mine, right?"
It's not really a question but Ryan still nods. The silence is getting to you, so you decide to break it again, trying with light teasing.
"So, you came all the way over here just to say thanks?"
"Not exactly."
You frown, "Then why? Not that I don't like having you here, but-"
You're suddenly cut off by a pair of lips on top of yours and you let out a surprised sound at the back of your throat, which he seems to find both amusing and encouraging, because he's pressing harder, trying to coax your lips to open.
You let him in, mostly out of curiosity , then you moan when his tongue caresses yours. It feels like hours until he finally pulls away, but you can't help feeling a little disappointed. Damn the need of air.
He smiles at you, you can tell it's a real Ryan Lochte smile this time, and you smile back automatically.
"You came here to kiss me?" you ask and he laughs.
"Amongst other things," he answers, then shrugs. "I just thought that...now that you're 'retired' and all that-"
Now it's your time to shut him up with a kiss, but it's basically to make your own mind shut up as well. You're just thinking; 'why would he pick me?' Look at him...he can get anyone he wants by just batting his eyelashes at them and yet he's here. Kissing you. Wanting you.
"Bedroom," you pant against his lips when he's straddling your thighs and you can feel his erection against your stomach. "Now."
You're giggling like two school girls as you both stumble up the stairs, stealing kisses from each other every chance you get.
--++--
It's when you're inside of him, thrusting deeper every time because he's encouraging you with every noise he makes, that you can finally let go of something.
You don't have to know what it's like to be him; because now you can feel what it's like to be with him instead.
Author: saar_fantasy
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte
Rating: PG (with a touch of NC-17)
Warnings: buh? the POV maybe...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people used in this fic. The words and the plot are mine.
Summary: Sometimes you wonder what it's like to be Ryan Lochte
You don't get it...You don't get how he gets away with those interviews with a simple "Whoo! Team America, jeah!" and then the reporter would smile or even laugh full out and they'd just let him go.
You, on the other hand, have to deal with all the questions. You even have to watch yourself on how you answer because Bob and your mom would probably fight about who gets to kill you first if you'd ever mess up an interview.
He just uses his charm and it's fixed. The interviewer will buy whatever he says, even if it doesn't make any sense. When they ask him about you, he'll smile and shrug, telling them that he couldn't wish for a better rival. That he's sad to see you retire after London.
You're two completely different persons. He's the chill-laid back guy, while you're always focused, always on edge; you sometimes wonder how it would be like to be him.
Sometimes you wonder what it's like to be Ryan Lochte.
--++--
After your last race, nobody really knows how to treat you.
There's pats on the back from friends, team mates an about every other swimmer in the competition. There's your mother and your sisters, crying onto your shoulder. There's Bob, who actually looks like he's debating between slapping you and kissing you, but just settles on an awkward hug and a friendly pat on the back instead.
There are the interviews, with, of course, the question if you didn't change your mind about your retirement. You haven't, and you're not planning on having any regrets either.
Then there's Ryan... Ryan; who practically jumps into your arms, yelling ecstatically, "You did it man!", then says more quietly, "This is it...I'm glad I've got to experience this all with you."
You are fucking glad too.
--++--
"Let's go celebrate!"
It's Ryan, of course it is. You're tired, but he ends up dragging you along anyway. You end up watching hm, claiming the dancefloor like he always belonged there. Dancing until the last man has left the floor, then keeps on going on his own.
Ryan has different sides to himself: there's goofball Ryan, party-animal Ryan, there's affectionate Ryan -what? you and him hug quite a lot. No biggie-. Then there's focused Ryan, which not many people get to see, except when you're watching him race or train in the pool.
It's like he has different personalities, but in the end, it's just Ryan. Ryan is Ryan. It's as simple as that. He just knows how to make the switch between different emotions when he has to.
That's something you struggle with sometimes...
--++--
You've seen the change in Ryan in London, but after London he changes even more.
Shit hits the preverbial fan when word gets out that his brother got caught with drugs and then they drag up an old case of his dad too of course.
You are probably one of the few people who Ryan told about his dad, so it isn't a shocker to you. You know Ryan and his dad are cool. Still, you wish you could be there for him, only you don't know how.
You're skipping through the TV stations on the screen when you suddenly freeze on TMZ. They're at Ryan's place, practically jumping on him from the moment he steps out of his car.
You see how tense he is when one of them shoves a microphone under his nose. How different his smile is.
You want to smack that stupid new reporter guy around the head when he asks the most stupid question ever.
"What are you gonna do about your brother?"
If they think Ryan is gonna defy his own brother because of his 'status', they've got another thing coming.
"I'm not gonna do anything about it." you hear Ryan answer and you smile. "If anything, I'm gonna keep on supporting him in whatever he's gonna do next. Try and be a better big brother to him. That's all I want to do about it."
You watch him push his way through the crowd towards the house, because they keep following him with their cameras until he closes the door. Not slamming,you notice, just closing. It makes you even more proud of him and of his composure.
You pick up your iphone and send him a text; ' You tell 'em, bro!'
You know he got probably a gazillion texts from other people, but it's only a few seconds before you get a text back. It feels good to know you're the frst person he replies to.
'Thanks. I'm not gonna feed those vultures more meat.'
You blink, then laugh. Typical Ryan...always trying to keep things funny, even if he's feeling quite bad hmself.
Too bad for him that you can see right through him though...
--++--
It doesn't take long until they invade your personal property to ask you about the 'Lochte case'.
"Whatever Ryan does or doesn't do is his business." You answer them while trying to get to your front door. "I do know he's made the right decision," you continue, "Family are the most important part in your life, you should always keep on supporting them and that's what he does. He supports his family and I support him and that's that."
You close the door in all of their faces, then rest your forehead against the door and sigh.
You halfly expect a text to come in from Ryan, but nothing comes. No text, no phonecall. Nothing.
You can't help but wonder if you said something wrong.
--++--
Then a few days later, you pull your car back up your driveway, only to notice there's already another, slightly familiar car, there. It's a rental car, but you know there's only one person you know who would rent that type of car.
You jump out of the passenger's seat and then you see him, sitting on the front step of your door. You can't help your lips from quirking up when he looks up at you and grins.
God, he's still as beautiful as he used to be. Maybe even more so. The Floridian sun has done him good.
You walk up to him and pull him into a one armed bro-like hug, which doesn't look so bro-like anymore when he wraps his arms around your neck and presses his nose into the crook of your neck.
You chuckle, a little awkwardly, then push him away a little so you can open the door. Herman and Stella are immediately there to greet you, getting even more enthusiastic when they see you've brought a guest with you.
You walk through to your living room, Ryan trails quietly behind you. Then you realize that he hasn't said a word, which is very uncharacteristic for Ryan.
You slump down on your couch and Ryan sits down next to you, you can practically feel how tense his muscles are, even when there's still some space between you. You turn to him with a quizical look.
"'S up dude?" you ask him, trying for casual, casual always works with him. "Why are you here?"
He doesn't look at you when he shrugs. "Just came to say thanks."
You're on the verge of asking "thanks for what?", but then you know.
"Sure, man." you answer with a smile. "I've got your back, you've got mine, right?"
It's not really a question but Ryan still nods. The silence is getting to you, so you decide to break it again, trying with light teasing.
"So, you came all the way over here just to say thanks?"
"Not exactly."
You frown, "Then why? Not that I don't like having you here, but-"
You're suddenly cut off by a pair of lips on top of yours and you let out a surprised sound at the back of your throat, which he seems to find both amusing and encouraging, because he's pressing harder, trying to coax your lips to open.
You let him in, mostly out of curiosity , then you moan when his tongue caresses yours. It feels like hours until he finally pulls away, but you can't help feeling a little disappointed. Damn the need of air.
He smiles at you, you can tell it's a real Ryan Lochte smile this time, and you smile back automatically.
"You came here to kiss me?" you ask and he laughs.
"Amongst other things," he answers, then shrugs. "I just thought that...now that you're 'retired' and all that-"
Now it's your time to shut him up with a kiss, but it's basically to make your own mind shut up as well. You're just thinking; 'why would he pick me?' Look at him...he can get anyone he wants by just batting his eyelashes at them and yet he's here. Kissing you. Wanting you.
"Bedroom," you pant against his lips when he's straddling your thighs and you can feel his erection against your stomach. "Now."
You're giggling like two school girls as you both stumble up the stairs, stealing kisses from each other every chance you get.
--++--
It's when you're inside of him, thrusting deeper every time because he's encouraging you with every noise he makes, that you can finally let go of something.
You don't have to know what it's like to be him; because now you can feel what it's like to be with him instead.