Dive : Chapter 49
Title: Dive : Chapter 49
Pairing: MPhelps/RLochte;
Fandom: RPF
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: In which Michael has an idea.
Notes: 1356 words! I know the chapters have been short, but I want to keep a little bit of suspense so it doesn't seem like everything happened all at once.
Wednesday starts off with Michael picking up his phone. He calls Ryan while he's still picking out his clothes for early morning practice, and he's relieved when the line picks up.
"Hey."
Michael tugs Ryan t shirt on one-handed, holding the phone away from his ear for just a second, "Hey. We need to talk."
"That's never good." Ryan says, and he sounds amused.
"Can you give me a ride to practice?"
Ryan yawns, and Michael can hear the sound of his closet or bathroom door opening, "Jeah. Gimme ten minutes."
It actually takes him around fifteen, and Michael is sitting out on the front steps when he pulls up, the hood of his jacket flipped up to shade his eyes from the early morning sun.
The weather is cool, and when he opens the door and climbs into the passenger seat he's relieved to feel the heat blasting. He means to be tactful, maybe even subtle, but instead he looks right at Ryan and blurts it out.
"You can't go to New York!"
They blink at each other for a moment, and Ryan certainly looks a little surprised by the sudden subject starter.
"If you go to New York we'll probably never see each other again," Michael sputters out, "And you'll just be doing exactly what your dad wants."
Ryan toys with the other keys dangling out the ignition, ". . . What can I do?"
"We can think of something!" Michael bites the inside of his cheek, "Please stay with me. I know that sounds selfish but. . . I love you. I want you to stay."
Ryan smiles slowly, "What am I supposed to do all day while you're winning gold medals, huh?"
Michael pushes his hood back off his hair, "Draw. Smoke weed. Do whatever the fuck you want."
Ryan's smile is wonderful, but it fades fast, ". . .What about my dad?"
Michael's expression certainly goes bitter, "Fuck your dad."
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple. Fuck your dad."
Ryan shakes his head, eases his foot off the brake, "Alright."
Michael sighs and drops his duffel bag onto the floorboard. Lifting his legs, he bends them at the knee and props his feet on the dash, "Seriously, Ry. Look what you did to Kyle. I bet we could come up with something just as good for your dad."
Ryan glances at him, betraying his interest.
"I mean, look at you, Ry." Michael hangs his arms down between his knees and frowns at his shoes, "He's never gonna stop beating you up."
"He-"
"Just listen for a minute. What about your brothers? You think he won't start in on them once you go to college? And you can't stay around forever. So it's gonna happen no matter what. Unless he's gone."
"We can't kill my dad, Michael." Ryan snaps.
"Hey, I never said he had to die," Michael pauses and shrugs, "Even though I'd love the chance to do his ass in for good."
"Michael," Ryan says warningly.
"I'm just kidding," He lies, "But think about it. We could get him."
"We can't. He's a fucking lawyer."
Michael pauses, thinking for just a moment, "Well, what kind of evidence could we get that he can't argue his way out of?"
"I don't know," Ryan snaps, and he seems agitated, "Look, can we talk about this later?"
"But Ryan-"
"Just drop it, okay?"
Michael sighs and turns his face to the window, but he reluctantly lets the subject drop. They spend the remainder of the ride in silence, and Ryan cuts on the radio in an attempt to mask it. It doesn't help much though, and Michael is in a mood by the time they pull up outside the swimming center.
Ryan rolls down his window and Michael walks around, duffel over one shoulder, but he's still frowning.
"Have a good day," Ryan tries, and he reaches out to tug on one string of Michael's hoodie.
Michael glowers at him in a brooding silence, and his eyes say it all.
"Mikey, c'mon. Not now, okay?"
"Then when? When you're getting on the plane?"
"I won't go to New York."
Michael steps away, "Yes you will. You're a coward." It's not true, but it feels good to be hurtful, "And you know what, it'd be different if you wanted to. But you really want me to just sit here and watch your dad push you around and be happy about it?" He shakes his head, "You act like you don't know me better than that."
Ryan sighs, "I know you're a stubborn asshole."
Michael nods, "Exactly. So gimme my way. Or I'll never shut up."
"It's not-"
"Don't say it's not that easy. Because it could be SO easy, Ry." He's struck with sudden inspiration, "A video camera in the living room and you pushing his buttons. That's all it would take."
Ryan bites his lip.
"He'd go to jail. You know he fucking would, Ry!" Michael grins, stepping back up to lean into the open window, "He can't argue his way around a video."
Ryan hesitates.
"I'll help you. Shit, I'll hide in the fucking closet and film it myself!"
"No!" Ryan says, a little too loud. Then he takes a breath, "No. We'll hide the camera on the mantle or something."
Michael bites his cheek, "So that's a yes?"
"I didn't say that."
"C'mon, Ry! Think about your broth-"
"Hey." Ryan snaps, "Don't pretend you care so much about my fucking brothers."
"Don't pretend you don't." Michael shoots back.
Ryan turns his face away for a moment, shakes his head, "God, you're such a fucking dick."
"You love it," Michael rests his forearm on the window frame, lets his hand drop so that it can catch onto Ryan's, "Just think about it. About what it could be like."
Ryan's expression is tight, and his voice is quieter, "You don't understand. . ." He squeezes his eyes tight, ". . . I do. All the time." He keeps his eyes closed, but he holds Michael's hand tighter, "It's just hard, Michael, it's hard to face him."
"I'll help you. I'll be there."
Ryan shakes his head, "No. I don't want you there."
"I don't care." Michael glances back at the doors to the pool, then opens the driver door, "Scootch."
Ryan shifts over as much as he can, and Michael just barely manages to squeeze in next to him. The door would never close but it doesn't need to. Wrapping his arms around Ryan, he bows his head and rests his nose on the side of Ryan's neck.
"You're always the strong one. Y'know. . . I could be the strong one for once. Maybe."
Ryan bites his lip.
"It's a good idea. I know you know it. We could do it."
Ryan finally sighs, and it's like tide breaking on rocks. All the tension leaves the truck, and he opens his eyes and leans against Michael in a very tired way.
"You're right. It's a good idea. Just give me some time to think about it, okay? I'll see you this afternoon, we can talk then."
Michael kisses the side of his neck, "I love you, Ry."
"I know." Ryan leans against him even more, "I'm glad you're my best friend."
Michael smiles, and his chest feels warm with the knowledge that Ryan cares for him so much.
"Swim good today, okay? Bob says you've been slacking."
Michael flushes, "I have not!"
Ryan grins, and the moment is finally stress-free, "Okay. Whatever. I saw you, dude."
Michael blushes an even deeper shade of red, "Well you didn't call me and I was worried."
"Naw, you just suck."
"Well. . . you swallow!" Michael sticks his tongue out and slides out of the seat, trying to make a speedy getaway.
"Hey!" Ryan grabs the back of his jacket, pulls him back. Wrapping one arm around Michael's neck, he rubs his knuckles across the top of his head, "Asshole!"
Michael just laughs, "Lemme go!"
Ryan releases him, but he manages to plant a well-aimed slap to Michael's ass as he walks away.
"I love you too, by the way."
Michael glances back over his shoulder to wave. The toe of his sneaker hits the bottom step and he trips over his own feet, just barely managing to catch his balance, and when he looks back again Ryan is laughing.
Michael flips him the bird and continues up the stairs, but his mood is considerably better despite it.
For the first time, he thinks he might actually get to see Steven Lochte get what he deserves.
Pairing: MPhelps/RLochte;
Fandom: RPF
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: In which Michael has an idea.
Notes: 1356 words! I know the chapters have been short, but I want to keep a little bit of suspense so it doesn't seem like everything happened all at once.
Wednesday starts off with Michael picking up his phone. He calls Ryan while he's still picking out his clothes for early morning practice, and he's relieved when the line picks up.
"Hey."
Michael tugs Ryan t shirt on one-handed, holding the phone away from his ear for just a second, "Hey. We need to talk."
"That's never good." Ryan says, and he sounds amused.
"Can you give me a ride to practice?"
Ryan yawns, and Michael can hear the sound of his closet or bathroom door opening, "Jeah. Gimme ten minutes."
It actually takes him around fifteen, and Michael is sitting out on the front steps when he pulls up, the hood of his jacket flipped up to shade his eyes from the early morning sun.
The weather is cool, and when he opens the door and climbs into the passenger seat he's relieved to feel the heat blasting. He means to be tactful, maybe even subtle, but instead he looks right at Ryan and blurts it out.
"You can't go to New York!"
They blink at each other for a moment, and Ryan certainly looks a little surprised by the sudden subject starter.
"If you go to New York we'll probably never see each other again," Michael sputters out, "And you'll just be doing exactly what your dad wants."
Ryan toys with the other keys dangling out the ignition, ". . . What can I do?"
"We can think of something!" Michael bites the inside of his cheek, "Please stay with me. I know that sounds selfish but. . . I love you. I want you to stay."
Ryan smiles slowly, "What am I supposed to do all day while you're winning gold medals, huh?"
Michael pushes his hood back off his hair, "Draw. Smoke weed. Do whatever the fuck you want."
Ryan's smile is wonderful, but it fades fast, ". . .What about my dad?"
Michael's expression certainly goes bitter, "Fuck your dad."
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple. Fuck your dad."
Ryan shakes his head, eases his foot off the brake, "Alright."
Michael sighs and drops his duffel bag onto the floorboard. Lifting his legs, he bends them at the knee and props his feet on the dash, "Seriously, Ry. Look what you did to Kyle. I bet we could come up with something just as good for your dad."
Ryan glances at him, betraying his interest.
"I mean, look at you, Ry." Michael hangs his arms down between his knees and frowns at his shoes, "He's never gonna stop beating you up."
"He-"
"Just listen for a minute. What about your brothers? You think he won't start in on them once you go to college? And you can't stay around forever. So it's gonna happen no matter what. Unless he's gone."
"We can't kill my dad, Michael." Ryan snaps.
"Hey, I never said he had to die," Michael pauses and shrugs, "Even though I'd love the chance to do his ass in for good."
"Michael," Ryan says warningly.
"I'm just kidding," He lies, "But think about it. We could get him."
"We can't. He's a fucking lawyer."
Michael pauses, thinking for just a moment, "Well, what kind of evidence could we get that he can't argue his way out of?"
"I don't know," Ryan snaps, and he seems agitated, "Look, can we talk about this later?"
"But Ryan-"
"Just drop it, okay?"
Michael sighs and turns his face to the window, but he reluctantly lets the subject drop. They spend the remainder of the ride in silence, and Ryan cuts on the radio in an attempt to mask it. It doesn't help much though, and Michael is in a mood by the time they pull up outside the swimming center.
Ryan rolls down his window and Michael walks around, duffel over one shoulder, but he's still frowning.
"Have a good day," Ryan tries, and he reaches out to tug on one string of Michael's hoodie.
Michael glowers at him in a brooding silence, and his eyes say it all.
"Mikey, c'mon. Not now, okay?"
"Then when? When you're getting on the plane?"
"I won't go to New York."
Michael steps away, "Yes you will. You're a coward." It's not true, but it feels good to be hurtful, "And you know what, it'd be different if you wanted to. But you really want me to just sit here and watch your dad push you around and be happy about it?" He shakes his head, "You act like you don't know me better than that."
Ryan sighs, "I know you're a stubborn asshole."
Michael nods, "Exactly. So gimme my way. Or I'll never shut up."
"It's not-"
"Don't say it's not that easy. Because it could be SO easy, Ry." He's struck with sudden inspiration, "A video camera in the living room and you pushing his buttons. That's all it would take."
Ryan bites his lip.
"He'd go to jail. You know he fucking would, Ry!" Michael grins, stepping back up to lean into the open window, "He can't argue his way around a video."
Ryan hesitates.
"I'll help you. Shit, I'll hide in the fucking closet and film it myself!"
"No!" Ryan says, a little too loud. Then he takes a breath, "No. We'll hide the camera on the mantle or something."
Michael bites his cheek, "So that's a yes?"
"I didn't say that."
"C'mon, Ry! Think about your broth-"
"Hey." Ryan snaps, "Don't pretend you care so much about my fucking brothers."
"Don't pretend you don't." Michael shoots back.
Ryan turns his face away for a moment, shakes his head, "God, you're such a fucking dick."
"You love it," Michael rests his forearm on the window frame, lets his hand drop so that it can catch onto Ryan's, "Just think about it. About what it could be like."
Ryan's expression is tight, and his voice is quieter, "You don't understand. . ." He squeezes his eyes tight, ". . . I do. All the time." He keeps his eyes closed, but he holds Michael's hand tighter, "It's just hard, Michael, it's hard to face him."
"I'll help you. I'll be there."
Ryan shakes his head, "No. I don't want you there."
"I don't care." Michael glances back at the doors to the pool, then opens the driver door, "Scootch."
Ryan shifts over as much as he can, and Michael just barely manages to squeeze in next to him. The door would never close but it doesn't need to. Wrapping his arms around Ryan, he bows his head and rests his nose on the side of Ryan's neck.
"You're always the strong one. Y'know. . . I could be the strong one for once. Maybe."
Ryan bites his lip.
"It's a good idea. I know you know it. We could do it."
Ryan finally sighs, and it's like tide breaking on rocks. All the tension leaves the truck, and he opens his eyes and leans against Michael in a very tired way.
"You're right. It's a good idea. Just give me some time to think about it, okay? I'll see you this afternoon, we can talk then."
Michael kisses the side of his neck, "I love you, Ry."
"I know." Ryan leans against him even more, "I'm glad you're my best friend."
Michael smiles, and his chest feels warm with the knowledge that Ryan cares for him so much.
"Swim good today, okay? Bob says you've been slacking."
Michael flushes, "I have not!"
Ryan grins, and the moment is finally stress-free, "Okay. Whatever. I saw you, dude."
Michael blushes an even deeper shade of red, "Well you didn't call me and I was worried."
"Naw, you just suck."
"Well. . . you swallow!" Michael sticks his tongue out and slides out of the seat, trying to make a speedy getaway.
"Hey!" Ryan grabs the back of his jacket, pulls him back. Wrapping one arm around Michael's neck, he rubs his knuckles across the top of his head, "Asshole!"
Michael just laughs, "Lemme go!"
Ryan releases him, but he manages to plant a well-aimed slap to Michael's ass as he walks away.
"I love you too, by the way."
Michael glances back over his shoulder to wave. The toe of his sneaker hits the bottom step and he trips over his own feet, just barely managing to catch his balance, and when he looks back again Ryan is laughing.
Michael flips him the bird and continues up the stairs, but his mood is considerably better despite it.
For the first time, he thinks he might actually get to see Steven Lochte get what he deserves.