FIC: Nothing More Than Strangers (Part 10)
OK, so before you all keel over in shock - she's updating! For the second time in less than a month! - this is unashamedly filler. But I'm fine with that if you are. ^_^
Previous Chapters: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
Title: Nothing More Than Strangers (Part 10)
Rating: mild R for language (maybe)
Pairing: Ryan/Colin
Summary: He carefully reaches out to rest the heel of one hand against the small of Ryan's back; the taller man buries his face into his pillow again. He holds his breath as Colin pushes up his shirt, and the other man hesitates for a long moment before actually touching his bare skin.
"Colin," he says, suddenly, and everyone looks over at him, slightly startled. He holds out a hand, expectantly, and Colin pauses, before clutching his M&Ms to his chest.
"No!" he protests, and Ryan wiggles his fingers.
"Come on," he coaxes. "Just one."
Colin narrows his eyes slowly. "Fine," he says, shortly; he peers into the bag.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asks, amused.
"Trying to find a colour I don't like," he mutters back, poking the tiny chocolates.
"They all taste the same," he groans, and Colin looks up, his eyebrows raised.
"You want one or not?" he tries to threaten, and Ryan snorts.
"Oooh," he murmurs, his head bobbing, and Colin glares at him again.
"Here," he says, shortly, tossing a brown one at him; Ryan's mouth opens in mock indignation. ("One?" Greg snickers, almost to himself).
"Wha-" he grabs the lone M&M off Greg's bedspread and pegs it back at the Canadian, left handed; Colin throws his hands in the air, shooting Brad an exasperated look, and Brad shrugs.
He stares at Colin until the older man sighs. "Fine," he relents; he leans towards Ryan and Greg, one foot balancing between the two beds and drops the chocolate into Ryan's expectant palm. "Happy?"
Ryan smirks at him.
"Yeah," he snorts.
He'd pretended to yawn, exaggeratedly, before checking his watch. "Hey, is that the time?" he'd asked no-one in particular. "Man. I should get going soon."
Drew had checked his, automatically. "It's not even midnight," he'd protested, amused, and Ryan had shrugged.
"Big day," he'd explained, faking another yawn, and Drew had snorted, and taken another sip of his beer.
"Yeah."
"Well, I'll see you all - next week?" he'd asked, semi-rhetorically, his eyes flitting around the table, lingering on Colin a beat too long.
"How are you getting home?" his friend had piped up with, as casually as he could.
"I'm right to drive," he'd smirked, and Colin had laughed, half-heartedly.
"Yeah. No. I'll drive you," he'd offered, and Ryan had shrugged.
"If that makes you feel better."
Colin had stood, then, and Ryan had carefully followed; Colin had smiled, shaking his head, and Ryan had tried to scowl at him. "Shut up."
"We'll see you later," Colin had said to the others, still smiling, as he grabbed Ryan's elbow. Ryan had batted at his hand in mock irritation.
"I'm not that drunk!" he'd insisted, and Colin had patted his forearm with his other hand.
"Of course you're not. Now where are your keys?"
Wayne had laughed into his drink, then, and Chip had silently watched them, amused.
"They're here," he'd replied, witheringly, fishing them out of his pocket, and Colin had grabbed them off him.
"Great. Let's go," he'd said, unenthusiastically, and Ryan had pretended to scowl at him.
"I don't remember forcing you to-"
"Let's go," he'd said, more loudly, and even Ryan had snickered.
He'd let Colin tug him towards the exit; before the bar door had even properly closed behind them, he'd pushed Colin up against the wall outside.
Colin had looked up at him, amused. "Smooth," he'd murmured to the shorter man, who'd smiled sheepishly.
"I tried," he'd protested, and Ryan had ducked his head, his nose lightly brushing Colin's forehead.
"I know."
Colin hadn't replied; they'd been able to see his breath, and Ryan had pressed closer to him.
"It's cold."
"I know," Colin had parroted, only slightly mockingly.
"Let's go," he'd said, quietly, pulling back, and Colin had looked up at him, smiling slightly.
"OK."
"I'm beat," he announces, flatly, getting to his feet - and Greg looks up at him, amused. "Don't let us keep you up," he smirks, and Ryan screws his face up at him.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he mutters, normally, and Greg checks his watch.
"Later today," he amends, seriously - like somebody actually cares - and Ryan blinks slowly at him.
"Yeah," he drawls, before glancing over at Colin.
Colin tears his gaze away from the screen long enough to say, quietly, "I have my key."
Colin had cautiously cracked open the door, as little as he could, and slipped inside (he'd been working late, and the lights had long been off by the time he'd arrived back at the apartment). He'd undressed quietly without turning on a light, and he'd climbed - after a brief hesitation - into the other bed.
Ryan had rolled his head to the side. "Are we fighting or something?" he'd asked, in mock confusion, and Colin had paused.
"I was trying not to wake you," he'd replied, with a smile Ryan could almost hear.
"Well, I'm awake," he'd mumbled, before adding, a little more gently, "Come here," as his eyes had slipped shut.
Colin had.
He'd added, without opening his eyes, "Oh, hang on. You didn't brush your teeth." He'd clicked his tongue with mock remorse. "Back you get."
Colin had laughed, in spite of himself. "Too tired," he'd muttered, without opening his mouth, and Ryan had reached out for him, in the darkness.
"Sorry for waking you," Colin had murmured, against Ryan's neck, and Ryan had smoothed Colin's hair down before softly kissing his temple.
"You didn't," he'd replied, honestly.
Colin slowly pushes open the door (an hour and forty eight minutes after Ryan first lay down) and locks it quietly behind him. He carefully makes his way over to his bed in the dark - and Ryan listens to the rustling and unzipping of his friend's clothes as, he imagines, Colin tugs off everything but his boxers.
He waits, and listens as Colin pulls back his doona and climbs into bed; when he's sure Colin's lying down, he lifts his head slightly and says, clearly, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to avoid me."
There's a pause, before Colin - sprung - replies, "I was interested in - whatever it was we were watching. I mean, I can't remember what it was, but it was ... interesting."
He laughs then, genuinely, for a second, before - ignoring him - adding, "Which is going to be pretty hard to do, you know. Given the size of the room and all... but I can pretend to still be asleep when you get up, if you want."
Colin doesn't reply, and Ryan smirks, a little grimly, rolling back over. "Night, Colin."
"Night Ry."
"I don't want to go to sleep."
"How old are you? Two?"
"Not as old as you, grandpa."
"You. Are so. Rude."
"And you? Love me all the more for it."
"I do not."
"You so do."
"Go to sleep."
"... you suck."
"See? Two! I'm telling you."
"Ugh," he mutters. "Shiiiiit."
"Ryan?" Colin mumbles, sleepily. "You 'K?" he asks, lifting his head momentarily.
"Uh," he pauses, panting slightly, "huh."
"OK," his friend replies, disbelievingly.
"Just my back," Ryan explains, a surprising amount of pure loathing just under the surface of his voice.
"Oh ..." Colin bites his lip, hesitating only slightly before asking, "you want a hand?"
"No, it's OK," Ryan replies, automatically.
"It's no trouble," he insists, following the script they'd silently written decades before, almost verbatim. "I was awake, anyway," he half lies, and Ryan snorts. "Sure you were, Colin."
"Well I was dozing."
He sits up in his bed, squinting as he reaches out to flick the bedside lamp on, and Ryan swears under his breath. "Sorry," he apologises, quietly, as he moves over to Ryan's bed.
"I'm alright," Ryan lies, a little desperately, and Colin pauses.
"Ryan, it's no big deal," he says, sounding a little blasé, and Ryan sighs. "I've always done it," he points out, and Ryan doesn't reply.
He carefully reaches out to rest the heel of one hand against the small of Ryan's back; the taller man buries his face into his pillow again. He holds his breath as Colin pushes up his shirt, and the other man hesitates for a long moment before actually touching his bare skin. "You're warm," he murmurs, surprised - and he cranes his neck in time to see the face Colin makes to himself.
Amused, he drops his head back onto the pillow, and Colin touches him a little less warily.
He sighs into the pillow.
Colin rubs his back slowly - almost like he did before, except it's different, and he hates it, because while he'd imagined that Colin would be hesitant about touching him now, he's actually uncomfortable.
And he's only got himself to blame for that.
"So," Colin says, breaking the silence, and he waits - but apparently, that's all Colin has, and he snorts into the pillow. "So," he repeats, and Colin simply continues to rub. "Are you having fun yet?" his friend finally asks, and Ryan asks, immediately, "What?"
Colin replies, just as quickly, the words almost falling out of his mouth, "The tour. Are you having fun yet?" and Ryan pauses - a flip answer on the tip of his tongue. "It isn't as bad as I was expecting," he grudgingly allows - mostly because he can't see Colin, and it's bizarrely easier to talk into the pillow to him.
Colin doesn't reply immediately.
He'd carefully pushed Ryan's shirt up until it bunched around his shoulders; he'd gently rubbed his friend's bare back, and Ryan had buried his face in the pillow and sighed.
With growing confidence, he'd rubbed a little more firmly, and Ryan had groaned, exaggeratedly, things like, "Oh, GOD, yeah!" and Colin had only smiled.
"Thanks," he'd mumbled, turning his head to the side, signaling the end of the massage. Colin had rested his hands lightly on the small of Ryan's back and leant down to kiss the corner of his mouth, softly. Ryan had smiled when Colin had pulled away, and Colin had stroked his back gently with his thumbs.
"Thanks," he mutters, lifting his head and looking back at Colin for a moment. His back still throbs a little, but he's willing to put up with that if it means an end to the sheer fucking awkwardness of Colin touching him again.
Colin pats his back, reassuringly. "'s OK," he murmurs.
Ryan rolls onto his side, the front of his thighs nudging Colin's back, and Colin studies him for a moment. "Well, night," he says, quietly, and Colin jerks slightly.
"Yeah. Night," he says, just as softly.
Previous Chapters: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
Title: Nothing More Than Strangers (Part 10)
Rating: mild R for language (maybe)
Pairing: Ryan/Colin
Summary: He carefully reaches out to rest the heel of one hand against the small of Ryan's back; the taller man buries his face into his pillow again. He holds his breath as Colin pushes up his shirt, and the other man hesitates for a long moment before actually touching his bare skin.
"Colin," he says, suddenly, and everyone looks over at him, slightly startled. He holds out a hand, expectantly, and Colin pauses, before clutching his M&Ms to his chest.
"No!" he protests, and Ryan wiggles his fingers.
"Come on," he coaxes. "Just one."
Colin narrows his eyes slowly. "Fine," he says, shortly; he peers into the bag.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asks, amused.
"Trying to find a colour I don't like," he mutters back, poking the tiny chocolates.
"They all taste the same," he groans, and Colin looks up, his eyebrows raised.
"You want one or not?" he tries to threaten, and Ryan snorts.
"Oooh," he murmurs, his head bobbing, and Colin glares at him again.
"Here," he says, shortly, tossing a brown one at him; Ryan's mouth opens in mock indignation. ("One?" Greg snickers, almost to himself).
"Wha-" he grabs the lone M&M off Greg's bedspread and pegs it back at the Canadian, left handed; Colin throws his hands in the air, shooting Brad an exasperated look, and Brad shrugs.
He stares at Colin until the older man sighs. "Fine," he relents; he leans towards Ryan and Greg, one foot balancing between the two beds and drops the chocolate into Ryan's expectant palm. "Happy?"
Ryan smirks at him.
"Yeah," he snorts.
He'd pretended to yawn, exaggeratedly, before checking his watch. "Hey, is that the time?" he'd asked no-one in particular. "Man. I should get going soon."
Drew had checked his, automatically. "It's not even midnight," he'd protested, amused, and Ryan had shrugged.
"Big day," he'd explained, faking another yawn, and Drew had snorted, and taken another sip of his beer.
"Yeah."
"Well, I'll see you all - next week?" he'd asked, semi-rhetorically, his eyes flitting around the table, lingering on Colin a beat too long.
"How are you getting home?" his friend had piped up with, as casually as he could.
"I'm right to drive," he'd smirked, and Colin had laughed, half-heartedly.
"Yeah. No. I'll drive you," he'd offered, and Ryan had shrugged.
"If that makes you feel better."
Colin had stood, then, and Ryan had carefully followed; Colin had smiled, shaking his head, and Ryan had tried to scowl at him. "Shut up."
"We'll see you later," Colin had said to the others, still smiling, as he grabbed Ryan's elbow. Ryan had batted at his hand in mock irritation.
"I'm not that drunk!" he'd insisted, and Colin had patted his forearm with his other hand.
"Of course you're not. Now where are your keys?"
Wayne had laughed into his drink, then, and Chip had silently watched them, amused.
"They're here," he'd replied, witheringly, fishing them out of his pocket, and Colin had grabbed them off him.
"Great. Let's go," he'd said, unenthusiastically, and Ryan had pretended to scowl at him.
"I don't remember forcing you to-"
"Let's go," he'd said, more loudly, and even Ryan had snickered.
He'd let Colin tug him towards the exit; before the bar door had even properly closed behind them, he'd pushed Colin up against the wall outside.
Colin had looked up at him, amused. "Smooth," he'd murmured to the shorter man, who'd smiled sheepishly.
"I tried," he'd protested, and Ryan had ducked his head, his nose lightly brushing Colin's forehead.
"I know."
Colin hadn't replied; they'd been able to see his breath, and Ryan had pressed closer to him.
"It's cold."
"I know," Colin had parroted, only slightly mockingly.
"Let's go," he'd said, quietly, pulling back, and Colin had looked up at him, smiling slightly.
"OK."
"I'm beat," he announces, flatly, getting to his feet - and Greg looks up at him, amused. "Don't let us keep you up," he smirks, and Ryan screws his face up at him.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he mutters, normally, and Greg checks his watch.
"Later today," he amends, seriously - like somebody actually cares - and Ryan blinks slowly at him.
"Yeah," he drawls, before glancing over at Colin.
Colin tears his gaze away from the screen long enough to say, quietly, "I have my key."
Colin had cautiously cracked open the door, as little as he could, and slipped inside (he'd been working late, and the lights had long been off by the time he'd arrived back at the apartment). He'd undressed quietly without turning on a light, and he'd climbed - after a brief hesitation - into the other bed.
Ryan had rolled his head to the side. "Are we fighting or something?" he'd asked, in mock confusion, and Colin had paused.
"I was trying not to wake you," he'd replied, with a smile Ryan could almost hear.
"Well, I'm awake," he'd mumbled, before adding, a little more gently, "Come here," as his eyes had slipped shut.
Colin had.
He'd added, without opening his eyes, "Oh, hang on. You didn't brush your teeth." He'd clicked his tongue with mock remorse. "Back you get."
Colin had laughed, in spite of himself. "Too tired," he'd muttered, without opening his mouth, and Ryan had reached out for him, in the darkness.
"Sorry for waking you," Colin had murmured, against Ryan's neck, and Ryan had smoothed Colin's hair down before softly kissing his temple.
"You didn't," he'd replied, honestly.
Colin slowly pushes open the door (an hour and forty eight minutes after Ryan first lay down) and locks it quietly behind him. He carefully makes his way over to his bed in the dark - and Ryan listens to the rustling and unzipping of his friend's clothes as, he imagines, Colin tugs off everything but his boxers.
He waits, and listens as Colin pulls back his doona and climbs into bed; when he's sure Colin's lying down, he lifts his head slightly and says, clearly, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to avoid me."
There's a pause, before Colin - sprung - replies, "I was interested in - whatever it was we were watching. I mean, I can't remember what it was, but it was ... interesting."
He laughs then, genuinely, for a second, before - ignoring him - adding, "Which is going to be pretty hard to do, you know. Given the size of the room and all... but I can pretend to still be asleep when you get up, if you want."
Colin doesn't reply, and Ryan smirks, a little grimly, rolling back over. "Night, Colin."
"Night Ry."
"I don't want to go to sleep."
"How old are you? Two?"
"Not as old as you, grandpa."
"You. Are so. Rude."
"And you? Love me all the more for it."
"I do not."
"You so do."
"Go to sleep."
"... you suck."
"See? Two! I'm telling you."
"Ugh," he mutters. "Shiiiiit."
"Ryan?" Colin mumbles, sleepily. "You 'K?" he asks, lifting his head momentarily.
"Uh," he pauses, panting slightly, "huh."
"OK," his friend replies, disbelievingly.
"Just my back," Ryan explains, a surprising amount of pure loathing just under the surface of his voice.
"Oh ..." Colin bites his lip, hesitating only slightly before asking, "you want a hand?"
"No, it's OK," Ryan replies, automatically.
"It's no trouble," he insists, following the script they'd silently written decades before, almost verbatim. "I was awake, anyway," he half lies, and Ryan snorts. "Sure you were, Colin."
"Well I was dozing."
He sits up in his bed, squinting as he reaches out to flick the bedside lamp on, and Ryan swears under his breath. "Sorry," he apologises, quietly, as he moves over to Ryan's bed.
"I'm alright," Ryan lies, a little desperately, and Colin pauses.
"Ryan, it's no big deal," he says, sounding a little blasé, and Ryan sighs. "I've always done it," he points out, and Ryan doesn't reply.
He carefully reaches out to rest the heel of one hand against the small of Ryan's back; the taller man buries his face into his pillow again. He holds his breath as Colin pushes up his shirt, and the other man hesitates for a long moment before actually touching his bare skin. "You're warm," he murmurs, surprised - and he cranes his neck in time to see the face Colin makes to himself.
Amused, he drops his head back onto the pillow, and Colin touches him a little less warily.
He sighs into the pillow.
Colin rubs his back slowly - almost like he did before, except it's different, and he hates it, because while he'd imagined that Colin would be hesitant about touching him now, he's actually uncomfortable.
And he's only got himself to blame for that.
"So," Colin says, breaking the silence, and he waits - but apparently, that's all Colin has, and he snorts into the pillow. "So," he repeats, and Colin simply continues to rub. "Are you having fun yet?" his friend finally asks, and Ryan asks, immediately, "What?"
Colin replies, just as quickly, the words almost falling out of his mouth, "The tour. Are you having fun yet?" and Ryan pauses - a flip answer on the tip of his tongue. "It isn't as bad as I was expecting," he grudgingly allows - mostly because he can't see Colin, and it's bizarrely easier to talk into the pillow to him.
Colin doesn't reply immediately.
He'd carefully pushed Ryan's shirt up until it bunched around his shoulders; he'd gently rubbed his friend's bare back, and Ryan had buried his face in the pillow and sighed.
With growing confidence, he'd rubbed a little more firmly, and Ryan had groaned, exaggeratedly, things like, "Oh, GOD, yeah!" and Colin had only smiled.
"Thanks," he'd mumbled, turning his head to the side, signaling the end of the massage. Colin had rested his hands lightly on the small of Ryan's back and leant down to kiss the corner of his mouth, softly. Ryan had smiled when Colin had pulled away, and Colin had stroked his back gently with his thumbs.
"Thanks," he mutters, lifting his head and looking back at Colin for a moment. His back still throbs a little, but he's willing to put up with that if it means an end to the sheer fucking awkwardness of Colin touching him again.
Colin pats his back, reassuringly. "'s OK," he murmurs.
Ryan rolls onto his side, the front of his thighs nudging Colin's back, and Colin studies him for a moment. "Well, night," he says, quietly, and Colin jerks slightly.
"Yeah. Night," he says, just as softly.