Gift for hilaryscribbles
Title: Chord Progression
Author: sathinks
For: hilaryscribbles
Pairing: Chad/Ryan
Summary: Ryan plays the piano. Sometimes he does it when other people can see.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: The story is mine but the characters are not. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Author's Notes: Thanks to the mod for the invitation to join, and to my sounding board for her willing ear.
Ryan had moved from playing his scales to playing the Schubert his piano teacher wanted him to perfect this week. Normally, he'd do this at home on the baby grand his mom had bought him for his twelfth birthday, but since Sharpay had decided to chair the spring formal committee, Ryan was stuck at school until she finished. He was engrossed in the piece--while "Piano Sonata in A Minor" wasn't his favorite, it was challenging enough that Ryan had to concentrate in order to keep from making a misstep.
He didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the footsteps on the floor, didn't hear the dull thud of a basketball hitting the ground until Chad sat carefully next to him and Ryan looked up, surprised.
"I didn't know you played," Chad said, looking at him fondly.
"Yeah," Ryan said, thrown off just a little. "Ever since I was a kid. I try to keep up with it regularly--it helps with performance schools if you're well-rounded."
"Cool," Chad said. His hair was just a little wet, and a drop slipped from a loose curl onto Ryan's skin. Ryan watched as Chad thumbed it away, flustered. Chad always left him feeling this way--a little too uncomfortable in his own skin, a little more open than Ryan really wanted to be with a basketball player who didn't even know he existed until last summer.
"You should play something for me," Chad stage-whispered, his leg pressing against Ryan's, sending a hot shiver through Ryan's body. "Like, something fun."
"What kind of fun?" Ryan stage-whispered back, tugging briefly on his hat before putting his fingers to the keys.
Chad's eyes were sparkling when Ryan met his friendly stare. "I don't know. Play me something you like to play."
Ryan thought about it for a second, then smiled. This song was something he knew backwards and forwards, something he'd played countless times. Chad laughed, but he didn't seem to recognize "I Get a Kick Out of You;" he bounced in his seat next to Ryan while Ryan whipped through a verse and the chorus, ending in a flourish.
"What was that? Sinatra?" Chad asked curiously.
Ryan shrugged. "It's an old standard," he said. "There's this guy, Mr. Steinman, who really loves forties singles, and when there's a private event sometimes I'll play for him. I learned a lot of oldies that way," he shrugged.
"That's cool," Chad said. "So, like, where do my fingers go?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You've never touched a piano before?"
Chad snorted. "I think all the kids in my family had some kind of ball shoved in their hands before they could even think of anything else. None of my sisters ever played, and I never took music lessons, so--nope. Never played."
"Okay," Ryan said, hesitating slightly before taking Chad's hand in his. He carefully positioned Chad's fingers over the keys from middle C outward. "This is pretty much the centre of the keyboard," Ryan said, pressing Chad's finger down with one of his own to get the warm, resounding note. It was slightly flat--he'd have to get Mr. Finklebuss, the music teacher, to get it retuned. "It's called C, and you work up the alphabet from there." He pushed each of Chad's fingers in turned, marking off D, E, F, and G. "And then there's the sharps and flats," Ryan said, moving Chad's fingers to the black keys. They went through those too, and then back up the scale with the sharps and flats too.
"Huh," Chad said, and when Ryan looked up Chad wasn't looking at his fingers where they rested on the keyboard; he was looking at Ryan. Ryan quickly shot his gaze back down, and took Chad's hand again to position it into C major. "If you press down on all these keys at the same time, you get a chord," he said, pushing Chad's fingers down to show him. The chord was quiet and a little shaky, but it sounded clear.
"Cool," Chad murmured, pressing down again and again to get the same noise. "I'm playing the piano," he said, his mouth quirked up in a smile.
"You are," Ryan replied, fitting his hands over the keys on either side of Chad's hands. "Okay, so press down on that every four beats, okay? We'll go slow, just count off 'one-two-three-four', okay?" He felt Chad nod next to him, Chad's hair brushing against the side of his face, and Ryan picked out a light melody, a watered-down bit of Gershwin that had haunted him all through elementary school. They went slowly, Chad sometimes missing his chord by a late second, but it was fun, rough and unpracticed. When they finished, Chad was laughing, and Ryan couldn't help but smile back.
"Maybe you could teach me some more," Chad said, letting his hand fall to rest against Ryan's on the piano bench.
"Yeah, maybe," Ryan echoed, his heart beating in his ears. Just as he opened his mouth to say something about free time this weekend, the door to the piano room crashed open and Sharpay stomped in, her mouth set in an unhappy line and the fearsome clink of her heels making an angry staccato across the floor. "Ryan," she snapped, "I need you to go tell these imbeciles that we are *not* doing a hula theme for the spring formal. I refuse to wear a grass skirt when I already have my Ferragamo stilettos picked out!"
Ryan and Chad jumped apart, and Ryan didn't know why he felt so guilty when he'd only had his hand on Chad's for the briefest of moments. Sharpay's eyes sharpened and she said, "What were you doing in here? Why do you have this, this--*basketball player* in the music room?"
"I was just leaving," Chad said smoothly, sliding off the bench and grabbing his bag. Just as he hit the door under Sharpay's frown, he turned and caught Ryan's eyes. "You're gonna teach me, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan said. "How's this weekend?"
Chad's answering smile made Ryan tighten his hand on the squeaky vinyl of the bench involuntarily. "This weekend is perfect. I'll call you later." He swiped his ball from the floor and bounced it out of the room, as Sharpay watched with her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"But Ryan," she said, "He has so much *hair*!"
"I know," Ryan said, turning to look at her with the smallest of grins. "I like it a lot."
Author: sathinks
For: hilaryscribbles
Pairing: Chad/Ryan
Summary: Ryan plays the piano. Sometimes he does it when other people can see.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: The story is mine but the characters are not. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Author's Notes: Thanks to the mod for the invitation to join, and to my sounding board for her willing ear.
Ryan had moved from playing his scales to playing the Schubert his piano teacher wanted him to perfect this week. Normally, he'd do this at home on the baby grand his mom had bought him for his twelfth birthday, but since Sharpay had decided to chair the spring formal committee, Ryan was stuck at school until she finished. He was engrossed in the piece--while "Piano Sonata in A Minor" wasn't his favorite, it was challenging enough that Ryan had to concentrate in order to keep from making a misstep.
He didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the footsteps on the floor, didn't hear the dull thud of a basketball hitting the ground until Chad sat carefully next to him and Ryan looked up, surprised.
"I didn't know you played," Chad said, looking at him fondly.
"Yeah," Ryan said, thrown off just a little. "Ever since I was a kid. I try to keep up with it regularly--it helps with performance schools if you're well-rounded."
"Cool," Chad said. His hair was just a little wet, and a drop slipped from a loose curl onto Ryan's skin. Ryan watched as Chad thumbed it away, flustered. Chad always left him feeling this way--a little too uncomfortable in his own skin, a little more open than Ryan really wanted to be with a basketball player who didn't even know he existed until last summer.
"You should play something for me," Chad stage-whispered, his leg pressing against Ryan's, sending a hot shiver through Ryan's body. "Like, something fun."
"What kind of fun?" Ryan stage-whispered back, tugging briefly on his hat before putting his fingers to the keys.
Chad's eyes were sparkling when Ryan met his friendly stare. "I don't know. Play me something you like to play."
Ryan thought about it for a second, then smiled. This song was something he knew backwards and forwards, something he'd played countless times. Chad laughed, but he didn't seem to recognize "I Get a Kick Out of You;" he bounced in his seat next to Ryan while Ryan whipped through a verse and the chorus, ending in a flourish.
"What was that? Sinatra?" Chad asked curiously.
Ryan shrugged. "It's an old standard," he said. "There's this guy, Mr. Steinman, who really loves forties singles, and when there's a private event sometimes I'll play for him. I learned a lot of oldies that way," he shrugged.
"That's cool," Chad said. "So, like, where do my fingers go?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You've never touched a piano before?"
Chad snorted. "I think all the kids in my family had some kind of ball shoved in their hands before they could even think of anything else. None of my sisters ever played, and I never took music lessons, so--nope. Never played."
"Okay," Ryan said, hesitating slightly before taking Chad's hand in his. He carefully positioned Chad's fingers over the keys from middle C outward. "This is pretty much the centre of the keyboard," Ryan said, pressing Chad's finger down with one of his own to get the warm, resounding note. It was slightly flat--he'd have to get Mr. Finklebuss, the music teacher, to get it retuned. "It's called C, and you work up the alphabet from there." He pushed each of Chad's fingers in turned, marking off D, E, F, and G. "And then there's the sharps and flats," Ryan said, moving Chad's fingers to the black keys. They went through those too, and then back up the scale with the sharps and flats too.
"Huh," Chad said, and when Ryan looked up Chad wasn't looking at his fingers where they rested on the keyboard; he was looking at Ryan. Ryan quickly shot his gaze back down, and took Chad's hand again to position it into C major. "If you press down on all these keys at the same time, you get a chord," he said, pushing Chad's fingers down to show him. The chord was quiet and a little shaky, but it sounded clear.
"Cool," Chad murmured, pressing down again and again to get the same noise. "I'm playing the piano," he said, his mouth quirked up in a smile.
"You are," Ryan replied, fitting his hands over the keys on either side of Chad's hands. "Okay, so press down on that every four beats, okay? We'll go slow, just count off 'one-two-three-four', okay?" He felt Chad nod next to him, Chad's hair brushing against the side of his face, and Ryan picked out a light melody, a watered-down bit of Gershwin that had haunted him all through elementary school. They went slowly, Chad sometimes missing his chord by a late second, but it was fun, rough and unpracticed. When they finished, Chad was laughing, and Ryan couldn't help but smile back.
"Maybe you could teach me some more," Chad said, letting his hand fall to rest against Ryan's on the piano bench.
"Yeah, maybe," Ryan echoed, his heart beating in his ears. Just as he opened his mouth to say something about free time this weekend, the door to the piano room crashed open and Sharpay stomped in, her mouth set in an unhappy line and the fearsome clink of her heels making an angry staccato across the floor. "Ryan," she snapped, "I need you to go tell these imbeciles that we are *not* doing a hula theme for the spring formal. I refuse to wear a grass skirt when I already have my Ferragamo stilettos picked out!"
Ryan and Chad jumped apart, and Ryan didn't know why he felt so guilty when he'd only had his hand on Chad's for the briefest of moments. Sharpay's eyes sharpened and she said, "What were you doing in here? Why do you have this, this--*basketball player* in the music room?"
"I was just leaving," Chad said smoothly, sliding off the bench and grabbing his bag. Just as he hit the door under Sharpay's frown, he turned and caught Ryan's eyes. "You're gonna teach me, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan said. "How's this weekend?"
Chad's answering smile made Ryan tighten his hand on the squeaky vinyl of the bench involuntarily. "This weekend is perfect. I'll call you later." He swiped his ball from the floor and bounced it out of the room, as Sharpay watched with her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"But Ryan," she said, "He has so much *hair*!"
"I know," Ryan said, turning to look at her with the smallest of grins. "I like it a lot."