New fic! - Everything You Want 1/5
Title: Everything You Want
Chapter: 1/5
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway
Genre: Slash
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan, past Greg/Ryan, unrequited Brad/Wayne
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AUish, in that neither Brad or Ryan are (or ever have been) married. Other than that, the RL timeline is basically the same.
Based on a song ZK sent to me by Vertical Horizon called 'Everything You Want'. I got addicted to it halfway through the first playing, and ideas for this fic formed very quickly.
-----
Five days.
That had been the deal.
Five days at his command. Five days to be won over. Five days to fall in love.
Day One
Ryan had gone to Brad's apartment and knocked three times at exactly ten o' clock, as instructed. Brad had been waiting for him and started to open the door on the second knock.
"Morning," Ryan said nervously with a slanted smile.
Brad almost laughed, "No need to be so coy, Ry. I'm not gonna hurt you, you know that."
"I know," Ryan said sincerely.
Brad stepped to one side, "Come on in."
Ryan shrugged off his coat as he entered Brad's living room. It was as he'd pictured it: a large, squishy green couch was the central focus of the room with a large TV opposing it; the walls alternated between a mellow orange and a dark green; the floorboards - teak, Ryan guessed - were shiny and clean; the room was largely sparse and uncluttered apart from a computer desk at the back by the window which had a literal mountain of papers on it. Another, smaller desk was against the opposite wall. It was home to a collection of various photo frames. From where he was, Ryan couldn't see many of the faces in the pictures; he assumed they were mostly friends and family, but he was pretty sure he could see one of Brad with his arm around Wayne's shoulders, which didn't surprise him at all, and one of Drew and Chip at some restaurant they'd all gone to a while back, feeding each other a strawberry dessert. He giggled at the memory, but stopped himself. He didn't know just how much Brad was supposed to be in charge of this week, and he didn't feel like testing it.
"It's okay," Brad said, as though he'd read Ryan's mind, "I'll only be controlling what we do and when we do it. But I'd like things to progress as naturally as possible."
He took Ryan's coat, hung it up and gestured for Ryan to sit on the couch. He did so.
"You have a great place," Ryan said.
"Thanks. It's not to everyone's taste, but..."
"I like it. Maybe a little bolder than what I'd usually go for, but yeah, I like it a lot."
"Are we still talking about the apartment?" Brad asked, then laughed into his chest, "Sorry, couldn't help it...I'm a little nervous, too."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. What did Brad have to be nervous of? He was in control, here. He was the master, the strong one, the one with the upper hand.
"So, what do you usually go for?"
Ryan hesitated, "Do you mean decor, or...?"
Brad laughed again, "Anything you want, man. It's our first proper talk, it's only fair you choose the first area of conversation."
Ryan tapped his finger on his knee in thought, "Well, my house is a little different to this. It's in blues and pales with..."
They talked about everything and nothing for three hours, and Ryan began to relax. He didn't know what he'd been expecting from Brad, but for some reason casual conversation hadn't crossed his mind. Bondage, whips and chains, yes. Talking about Brad's dog, no. Not that he was complaining.
"I'll be back in a minute," said Ryan, after telling Brad about how he'd broken his watch.
"Where are you going?" Brad asked.
Ryan pointed down the hall, "The bathroom?"
"Uh, I'm supposed to be in charge of things, here," Brad said sternly. Ryan froze for a moment, paralysed with a sudden fear. Brad's mouth twitched then cracked into a grin, "I'm kidding!"
When he came back from the bathroom, Brad was wearing a black leather jacket and had in his hands a set of keys and Ryan's coat.
"Hungry?" Brad asked, holding Ryan's coat out for him. Ryan nodded and took his coat. He'd sort of hoped they would stay at Brad's for lunch; he was strangely comfortable there, and going outside knowing that his actions were being dictated by someone else was a prospect that scared him.
"Oh, just gimme one second," Brad said, dashing over to the hall and disappearing around the corner. He reappeared a few moments later, stuffing something into his pocket, "Okay, let's go."
-----
They left the building and walked three or four blocks until they reached an Italian place called Bibiana's. Brad held the door open and Ryan entered. The warm smell of cheese, bread, tomatoes and basil instantly washed over him. They were seated near the back of the restaurant next to a large, ferny plant and a brightly coloured abstract painting that scared the hell out of Ryan. He took a deep breath that chased away the claustrophobia that had started to set in. His coat had already been draped on the back of his seat, but he was still hot so he undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt, acutely aware that Brad was watching intently.
"Do you...come here a lot?" Ryan asked, forcing Brad to look at his eyes rather than his partially-exposed chest, and to use his tongue to talk rather than to lick his lips.
"Not as much as I'd like," Brad said, "Whenever I stayed with my mom in Chicago, she'd take me to a similar Italian place, Vinicio's. There was nothing like that near my dad's place in New Mexico, so it became something I associated with Mom. When I moved to LA, I found Bibiana's and something about it reminded me of those times, reminded me of Mom."
Ryan smiled, "That's lovely."
Brad looked down at the table, embarrassed, "Sappy, sorry..."
"It's not sappy," Ryan said gently, "Everyone has something that reminds them of a happy time."
"What's yours?" Brad said, looking back up.
"Huh?"
"What's your something that reminds you of a happy time?"
Ryan tapped the table with his finger nervously. He wasn't sure he wanted to reveal this. But Brad was in charge, and if he wanted to hear it, Ryan had to say it.
"There's, uh...a dog park not far from here, about fifteen minutes walk. I used to take my ex there," he didn't mention a name; it was too painful for him, and he was sure Brad knew who he meant, "We'd walk around and spill our hearts out to each other. Play fetch with his dog. Feed the ducks. Scare passing children by making out in front of them."
Brad choked on his water slightly.
Ryan laughed and raised his eyebrows, "That surprises you?"
Brad paused for a moment, "Thinking about it, no, not at all."
They both chuckled for a while, before Ryan became solemn again. It had been a long time since he'd reminisced about that time of his life. An amalgam of emotions washed over him; euphoria, sadness, pain, love, fear. He bit his tongue so as not to cry. To his relief, the waiter joined them shortly to take their orders, providing a welcome distraction.
When their meals arrived, their conversation picked up where they'd left it at Brad's apartment and continued long after they had left and hailed a cab to take them into the heart of LA.
-----
"Okay, stop here," Brad said to the driver, handing him a few notes, "Thanks."
They got out and Ryan looked up to see a huge Macy's sign (surrounded by about seven Starbucks signs).
"What are we going to do here?"
"Duh - shop."
"For what?"
Brad smiled cheekily, "Something pretty."
Ryan was led into the store and dragged around as an indecisive Brad held up shirt after shirt after shirt to his torso. His feet were throbbing so much by the time Brad finally picked out his favourites that he had to lean heavily on the checkout while Brad paid.
Brad remained sprightly as ever as they left and tried to get another cab.
"Did you really have to make me do that?" Ryan asked.
"Of course," Brad replied, "I'm no good at buying for other people unless they're there to tell me what they like-"
Ryan grabbed the crook of Brad's arm, "What!?"
Brad looked at him, "What?"
Ryan pointed at the shopping bags, "They're all for me!?"
"Yeah...?"
"Brad! You spent over two hundred dollars!"
"So what?" he cracked another cheeky grin, "You can't tell me Greg never spent a little-"
"DON'T!" Ryan barked, "DON'T mention him!"
Brad recoiled a little, but his shock was masked under a veil of sarcasm, "Hey, I'm in charge...and I'm sorry."
Ryan let go of Brad's arm and looked at the ground, his clenched fists shaking. Brad hailed a cab and they got in. Neither of them said a word until they got back to Brad's place.
-----
"What do you want me to do now?" Ryan asked in a low tone.
"Wait there," Brad muttered back as he shrugged off his jacket and swiped Ryan's coat from his hands to hang it up. Ryan watched him take the shopping bags down the hall where he disappeared around a corner. Ryan took the oppurtunity to cry. This was - and had been from the word go - utterly surreal; but the oddest part was that having Brad dictate his movements was less weird than thinking about Greg for the first time in years.
He wiped away the tears and took a couple of shaky but calming breaths as Brad's footsteps became audible.
"You can go home tonight," Brad said matter-of-factly, "But for the rest of the week, you'll be staying here. Back here ten am, knock three times, okay?"
Ryan nodded, "Sure."
Brad turned and walked back down the hall. Ryan stood still for a moment, not quite sure if he should be waiting for something or if he should just go. The sound of a shower running signified that Brad wouldn't be back any time soon, so Ryan grabbed his coat and let himself out of the apartment.
He leaned on the door, closed his eyes and exhaled.
One down, four to go.
-----
Link to chapter 2
.x.Sess.x.
Chapter: 1/5
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway
Genre: Slash
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan, past Greg/Ryan, unrequited Brad/Wayne
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AUish, in that neither Brad or Ryan are (or ever have been) married. Other than that, the RL timeline is basically the same.
Based on a song ZK sent to me by Vertical Horizon called 'Everything You Want'. I got addicted to it halfway through the first playing, and ideas for this fic formed very quickly.
-----
Five days.
That had been the deal.
Five days at his command. Five days to be won over. Five days to fall in love.
Day One
Ryan had gone to Brad's apartment and knocked three times at exactly ten o' clock, as instructed. Brad had been waiting for him and started to open the door on the second knock.
"Morning," Ryan said nervously with a slanted smile.
Brad almost laughed, "No need to be so coy, Ry. I'm not gonna hurt you, you know that."
"I know," Ryan said sincerely.
Brad stepped to one side, "Come on in."
Ryan shrugged off his coat as he entered Brad's living room. It was as he'd pictured it: a large, squishy green couch was the central focus of the room with a large TV opposing it; the walls alternated between a mellow orange and a dark green; the floorboards - teak, Ryan guessed - were shiny and clean; the room was largely sparse and uncluttered apart from a computer desk at the back by the window which had a literal mountain of papers on it. Another, smaller desk was against the opposite wall. It was home to a collection of various photo frames. From where he was, Ryan couldn't see many of the faces in the pictures; he assumed they were mostly friends and family, but he was pretty sure he could see one of Brad with his arm around Wayne's shoulders, which didn't surprise him at all, and one of Drew and Chip at some restaurant they'd all gone to a while back, feeding each other a strawberry dessert. He giggled at the memory, but stopped himself. He didn't know just how much Brad was supposed to be in charge of this week, and he didn't feel like testing it.
"It's okay," Brad said, as though he'd read Ryan's mind, "I'll only be controlling what we do and when we do it. But I'd like things to progress as naturally as possible."
He took Ryan's coat, hung it up and gestured for Ryan to sit on the couch. He did so.
"You have a great place," Ryan said.
"Thanks. It's not to everyone's taste, but..."
"I like it. Maybe a little bolder than what I'd usually go for, but yeah, I like it a lot."
"Are we still talking about the apartment?" Brad asked, then laughed into his chest, "Sorry, couldn't help it...I'm a little nervous, too."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. What did Brad have to be nervous of? He was in control, here. He was the master, the strong one, the one with the upper hand.
"So, what do you usually go for?"
Ryan hesitated, "Do you mean decor, or...?"
Brad laughed again, "Anything you want, man. It's our first proper talk, it's only fair you choose the first area of conversation."
Ryan tapped his finger on his knee in thought, "Well, my house is a little different to this. It's in blues and pales with..."
They talked about everything and nothing for three hours, and Ryan began to relax. He didn't know what he'd been expecting from Brad, but for some reason casual conversation hadn't crossed his mind. Bondage, whips and chains, yes. Talking about Brad's dog, no. Not that he was complaining.
"I'll be back in a minute," said Ryan, after telling Brad about how he'd broken his watch.
"Where are you going?" Brad asked.
Ryan pointed down the hall, "The bathroom?"
"Uh, I'm supposed to be in charge of things, here," Brad said sternly. Ryan froze for a moment, paralysed with a sudden fear. Brad's mouth twitched then cracked into a grin, "I'm kidding!"
When he came back from the bathroom, Brad was wearing a black leather jacket and had in his hands a set of keys and Ryan's coat.
"Hungry?" Brad asked, holding Ryan's coat out for him. Ryan nodded and took his coat. He'd sort of hoped they would stay at Brad's for lunch; he was strangely comfortable there, and going outside knowing that his actions were being dictated by someone else was a prospect that scared him.
"Oh, just gimme one second," Brad said, dashing over to the hall and disappearing around the corner. He reappeared a few moments later, stuffing something into his pocket, "Okay, let's go."
-----
They left the building and walked three or four blocks until they reached an Italian place called Bibiana's. Brad held the door open and Ryan entered. The warm smell of cheese, bread, tomatoes and basil instantly washed over him. They were seated near the back of the restaurant next to a large, ferny plant and a brightly coloured abstract painting that scared the hell out of Ryan. He took a deep breath that chased away the claustrophobia that had started to set in. His coat had already been draped on the back of his seat, but he was still hot so he undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt, acutely aware that Brad was watching intently.
"Do you...come here a lot?" Ryan asked, forcing Brad to look at his eyes rather than his partially-exposed chest, and to use his tongue to talk rather than to lick his lips.
"Not as much as I'd like," Brad said, "Whenever I stayed with my mom in Chicago, she'd take me to a similar Italian place, Vinicio's. There was nothing like that near my dad's place in New Mexico, so it became something I associated with Mom. When I moved to LA, I found Bibiana's and something about it reminded me of those times, reminded me of Mom."
Ryan smiled, "That's lovely."
Brad looked down at the table, embarrassed, "Sappy, sorry..."
"It's not sappy," Ryan said gently, "Everyone has something that reminds them of a happy time."
"What's yours?" Brad said, looking back up.
"Huh?"
"What's your something that reminds you of a happy time?"
Ryan tapped the table with his finger nervously. He wasn't sure he wanted to reveal this. But Brad was in charge, and if he wanted to hear it, Ryan had to say it.
"There's, uh...a dog park not far from here, about fifteen minutes walk. I used to take my ex there," he didn't mention a name; it was too painful for him, and he was sure Brad knew who he meant, "We'd walk around and spill our hearts out to each other. Play fetch with his dog. Feed the ducks. Scare passing children by making out in front of them."
Brad choked on his water slightly.
Ryan laughed and raised his eyebrows, "That surprises you?"
Brad paused for a moment, "Thinking about it, no, not at all."
They both chuckled for a while, before Ryan became solemn again. It had been a long time since he'd reminisced about that time of his life. An amalgam of emotions washed over him; euphoria, sadness, pain, love, fear. He bit his tongue so as not to cry. To his relief, the waiter joined them shortly to take their orders, providing a welcome distraction.
When their meals arrived, their conversation picked up where they'd left it at Brad's apartment and continued long after they had left and hailed a cab to take them into the heart of LA.
-----
"Okay, stop here," Brad said to the driver, handing him a few notes, "Thanks."
They got out and Ryan looked up to see a huge Macy's sign (surrounded by about seven Starbucks signs).
"What are we going to do here?"
"Duh - shop."
"For what?"
Brad smiled cheekily, "Something pretty."
Ryan was led into the store and dragged around as an indecisive Brad held up shirt after shirt after shirt to his torso. His feet were throbbing so much by the time Brad finally picked out his favourites that he had to lean heavily on the checkout while Brad paid.
Brad remained sprightly as ever as they left and tried to get another cab.
"Did you really have to make me do that?" Ryan asked.
"Of course," Brad replied, "I'm no good at buying for other people unless they're there to tell me what they like-"
Ryan grabbed the crook of Brad's arm, "What!?"
Brad looked at him, "What?"
Ryan pointed at the shopping bags, "They're all for me!?"
"Yeah...?"
"Brad! You spent over two hundred dollars!"
"So what?" he cracked another cheeky grin, "You can't tell me Greg never spent a little-"
"DON'T!" Ryan barked, "DON'T mention him!"
Brad recoiled a little, but his shock was masked under a veil of sarcasm, "Hey, I'm in charge...and I'm sorry."
Ryan let go of Brad's arm and looked at the ground, his clenched fists shaking. Brad hailed a cab and they got in. Neither of them said a word until they got back to Brad's place.
-----
"What do you want me to do now?" Ryan asked in a low tone.
"Wait there," Brad muttered back as he shrugged off his jacket and swiped Ryan's coat from his hands to hang it up. Ryan watched him take the shopping bags down the hall where he disappeared around a corner. Ryan took the oppurtunity to cry. This was - and had been from the word go - utterly surreal; but the oddest part was that having Brad dictate his movements was less weird than thinking about Greg for the first time in years.
He wiped away the tears and took a couple of shaky but calming breaths as Brad's footsteps became audible.
"You can go home tonight," Brad said matter-of-factly, "But for the rest of the week, you'll be staying here. Back here ten am, knock three times, okay?"
Ryan nodded, "Sure."
Brad turned and walked back down the hall. Ryan stood still for a moment, not quite sure if he should be waiting for something or if he should just go. The sound of a shower running signified that Brad wouldn't be back any time soon, so Ryan grabbed his coat and let himself out of the apartment.
He leaned on the door, closed his eyes and exhaled.
One down, four to go.
-----
Link to chapter 2
.x.Sess.x.