Secret Summer Fic Exchange (2/2)
Secret Summer Fic Exchange part 2
For: Caelieth,
who asked for: "Ryan/Colin romancy type stuff or Clive/Greg, or Greg/Jeff, or a gen friendship ficcy."
Well... I tried. It got really long and rather serious, but I hope it wasn't too bad. Still a novice WLiiA writer...
Posted in two parts in my journal here and linked to on WL_Fanfiction because of said lengthy length.
I hope you like it, Caelieth. :)
The Scene
The studio seemed colder than usual. Ryan parked the motorcycle absently, now decidedly dusty and used-looking, with a carelessness he wouldn't have dreamed over yesterday. It just didn't seem important anymore.
He avoided the rest of the performers for as long as possible, showing up for coffee minutes before they were due to begin. Wayne and Brad were talking subdued in a corner, shooting Colin, who was gazing unfocused in the vague direction of a magazine, concerned looks. He was currently attempting to pour coffee into his mug with his donut. He picked up the still-empty cup up and took a drink without seeming to noticing. Ryan nearly smiled.
"Hey, Ryan," Wayne called, noticing him for the first time. Colin's hand tightened on his mug, which he shot an accusing look at as he realized there was no coffee in it.
Dan pushed the door open. "Show time, funny men! Move out!"
"A truly inspiring pep talk," Brad grinned, and they headed for the stage.
Colin wondered if the audience could tell something was off. Brad and Wayne obviously did, but did their best to cover and make up for it. Still, the laughs seemed more subdued than usual, and he knew his responses were sluggish. He and Ryan were both professionals, but they weren't clicking like usual, or even as well as when Ryan had still been distant and angry, and he knew they weren't hiding it very well. Drew seemed to be picking up on it too, hitting the buzzer earlier and more often, and once or twice shooting them looks that said clearly, "Snap out of it, you're falling."
And then they were playing Whose Line. "That's right," Drew said cheerfully to the camera, "we have a game called Whose Line here on Whose Line..."
Ryan and Colin took their suggestions and their places, not meeting each other's eyes.
"The scene is: Romeo and Juliet! On the balcony. Ryan is..." he paused, drawing out the suspense. Colin was already rolling his eyes. "Romeo! And Colin, of course, is Juliet."
"Of course? What do you mean 'of course'?" Colin mocked to soft audience tittering.
"...Juliet, you're on your balcony, calling out to your would-be lover below--" Colin and Ryan looked away from each other-- "as things begin to deviate from Shakespeare's classic script."
"'Deviate'?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah, you know," Drew tried to explain. "Go wrong. A great 'what if' scenario."
"Right," Ryan scoffed, shaking his head.
"Any time you're ready, wonder boy," Drew snarked.
Colin immediately assumed a dramatic pose, hands clasped over his heart. "Oh, Romeo! Here art we in romantic tête-à-tête hence things shall go horribly awry!" The audience laughed dutifully, recognizing the tried and true repeat-the-suggestion opening gag. "Wherefore art thou Romeo... Deny thy--" (sexuality) "--father and refuse thy--" (wfie) "--name..." (Get a grip, Colin...)
"Oh for God's sake speak English," Ryan snapped in mock anger. He dug in his pocket for a suggestion and added, "’And come give daddy a hug’!" Oh please don't...
Dutifully, Colin mimed climbing down a ladder. He pause mid-invisible rung, shaking one leg. "Ouch! Ouch, a thorn is caught in my ridiculously poofy and gilded skirts! This is why you're supposed to do all the climbing around!"
Ryan mimed helping Colin down, careful not to actually touch him. "That's just like you air-headed medieval women, always wanting the men to do everything!" he complained loudly.
"I do as a good girl should, just as my mother taught me!" Colin responded. "Well, except for seeing you illicitly." Something flickered in Ryan's face, and Colin regretted the line immediately. "Just like my mother always taught me," he repeated, trying to cover, reaching for a suggestion. "’All you need is love, sweet love! And a hard boiled egg!’"
"Well, you can have the egg," Ryan said, pretending to hand him one. Colin mimed waving away a disgusting smell and tossed it gingerly over his shoulder. "But as for love... how can I love someone from such a different family? That's what I came to tell you tonight, that I'm just not sure I can do this anymore!"
"What are you saying?" Colin cried.
Ryan nearly gaped at him. "...I thought it was fairly obvious, Juliet darling!"
Colin wondered when, exactly, they'd left the scene behind. That look in Ryan's eyes had nothing to do with the moment, or comedy. They were falling apart, the scene with them, and...
"Then perhaps you should translate into Old English," Colin suggested, thinking fast.
Ryan pulled out another suggestion. "’All your bases are now belong to me’!" he cried, and, with a sudden look of wildness in his eyes, rushed forward and grabbed Colin's butt with both hands, to whoops from the audience. "See! Just like that."
"Romeo--oh!" Colin jumped as if he'd been pinched. "You forward thing!" He pretended to blush and fan himself, reaching hurriedly for another suggestion. "’Kiss me, you fool’!" he read without thinking. Ohshit.
Ryan's eyes were dark, and Colin could not read them. Slowly, Ryan reached for his own suggestion, and Colin very nearly burst into relieved, completely inappropriate laughter when he heard, in deadpan tones, "But--'I'm just a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world'!"
Colin backed away hastily. "Whoa! That's a bit more serious than some in-law communication issues!"
"But I love you, my darling!" Ryan half-shouted dramatically, posing ridiculously. The audience was giggling, but Colin could see Ryan's eyes, and he prayed for the buzzer to sound. "What have you to say to that?"
Colin reached for his last suggestion, hoping for an easy way out. "’Grab your sponge and wipe me down’!" he called, raising one hand sky-high in a bad imitation of dramatic Shakespearean acting.
"Forsooth!" Ryan shouted, and, rushing forward, swept Colin up in his arms, holding his own final suggestion. "Surely, 'for it is I, ladies man, man's man, man about town’! And I am good at such things!" He gazed intently at Colin, eyes burning, face completely free of tension and simply open, waiting, and suddenly Colin realized exactly what he should have done when Ryan had him against that wall.
The buzzer sounded and they headed instantly for their seats, Colin's head spinning and Ryan's expression once more closed and guarded.
Ryan barely heard Drew announcing the next game, gazing out unseeingly at the audience. It was too late. It had always been too late, and now they even had no more time to talk. Except Colin obviously didn't want to talk, the way he'd just shut down during the scene... And he shouldn't have tried that. He'd lost control, been horribly unprofessional. Like a rookie.
Suddenly, viciously depressed, Ryan started composing Drew-bashing hoedown rhymes in his head. At least he might get some satisfaction out of the stupid game and this rotten day.
The Jacket
Several weeks later
Colin sat by the window watching it rain and pretending not to hear the phone not ringing. Ryan never phoned. He knew that, just as surely as he knew he couldn't call Ryan. But the silence was still impossibly outspoken. Do something, it urged. Don't leave it like this. It's not right. It's not true.
But what of the consequences of telling the truth?
He needed to get out of the house.
The busiest street he could find was full of shoppers hurrying from doorway to doorway, packages and over their heads, unsuccessfully dodging the rain. He pulled his hood up and let the water slide off him, enjoying the downpour in the true fashion of someone with nowhere to go and time on his hands.
That was when he saw the sign: Leather Goods. And directly below in the window display...
Perfect.
Colin strode inside past some wet, disgruntled shoppers, ready to make things right.
"How can I help you?" a sales associate asked, hurrying over with a big fake smile.
Colin cheerfully offered his own genuine one. "Just one thing. Do you deliver?"
One more week later
Ryan sat by the window watching it rain and pretending not to see the phone out the corner of his eye. He ought to get out of the house. Distract himself. Anything but continue this circular argument of nonexistent phone calls and blame. What was done was done, and he needed to... well... get a grip.
Colin always did know what he was talking about.
His thoughts turned to the motorcycle, buried in the very back of the shed, under as many piles of useless junk as he'd been able to find. He really ought to sell it or something...
The doorbell rang. He heard his wife answer, muted conversation. The door closed. He nearly headed for the sanctuary of his study when he heard her footsteps coming--he really didn't have the energy for conversation--but there wasn't time.
Surprisingly, she had a package. "It's for you," she said curiously. "Did you order something?"
Ryan just looked at her. "No."
"Well, here it is."
The box was rectangular, a few inches deep, and rain-splattered. Distractedly, Ryan wandered to his study, searching for scissors to break the thick tape.
Some brand name was emblazoned fancily along the box lid under the shipping cardboard. Cutting through some more tape, Ryan lifted it off, and pulled away the packing tissue.
He stared.
The soft black leather shone in the same entrancing way his motorcycle did. Ryan lifted it out of the box without a word, taking in the length of the arms and the narrowness of the waist. Whoever sent this knew Ryan's sizes better than he did himself.
'Whoever.' As if he needed to ask.
Unnoticed, Pat came up behind him. "That's... shiny."
Ryan flinched. "Hm? Oh. Yes."
She picked through the tissue in the box, pulling out a card. "Oh! Colin's going to be in town."
Ryan looked up sharply. "When?"
"Today, actually. He gets done shooting a commercial at six." She looked at the jacket thoughtfully. "Did he forget your birthday?"
"Yes." Ryan checked his watch. 4:30 p.m. Perfect. "Let me see the card?" Silently, she handed it over, and he noted the address before dropping it back in the box. "I'd better get going. I'll need to thank him."
Still staring at the jacket, he slowly headed for the door.
Pat watched him go with a puzzled expression on her face. Finally, she just rolled her eyes and picked up box to add to the trash. "Men," she said with a sigh.
"Sure you don't need a ride, Colin? Taxi called?"
"I'm fine, Ben, thanks," Colin replied warmly, adjusting his jacket hood to better keep out the light rain that was still falling. "My ride's on the way."
"Well, if you're sure..."
The smooth roar of a motorcycle engine drowned the rest of the offer, and suddenly Colin couldn't stop grinning.
There's one thing you can say for actors, he thought, watching the sable blur that was leather-jacketed, reflective-sunglassed Ryan speeding in on the motorcycle. They know how to make an entrance in style.
Ben glanced at Colin, amused. "Wouldn't have put you down for the biker-boyfriend type," he teased. Colin clapped him on the shoulder. "Ben, my friend," he said dramatically, "we live and learn."
Shaking his head, Ben turned and headed for his own car. "We live..." Colin repeated softly.
He approached Ryan slowly, almost shyly. Ryan pulled off his helmet, slid off his sunglasses, and faced Colin with just a hint of a smile, lips slightly parted. Almost... invitingly. He looked content. As if for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Colin stopped close enough to feel Ryan's warm breath on his face. "Nice ride," he said.
"Depends on the company," Ryan replied, a drop of rain trickling down his nose.
Colin leaned forward, breathing in Ryan's scent, meeting his eyes, their foreheads nearly touching. "Care for a suggestion?"
"Anything."
"Head for 8th and Coronado, then take Rolland."
"Helmet first, please."
Colin gladly traded his hood for the ridiculously bright helmet. Ryan ran a hand through his now rain-soaked hair, slicking it back, before putting his own back on. Colin straddled the bike and wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan's waist. "Look for the blue building," he added.
"Anything you say," Ryan answered softly, and they were off.
As they drove sedately across town, through stop and go traffic, the rain stopped, and a break in the clouds appeared overhead. The setting sun blazed played spectacular shades of deep purple across the still cloud-thick horizon. Eventually, the traffic thinned a bit, and they entered more residential districts. Rolland turned out to be a wide, tree-lined street that appeared to lead almost straight into the mountains.
The building was off by itself in a largely empty lot. It was also, as Colin had said, completely bright blue. It stood out well from its more traditionally colored neighbors. At Colin's direction, Ryan parked in the back, and Colin pulled out a key that unlocked a small side door.
"I know a guy who knows a guy," Colin explained, leading Ryan to a dimly lit stairwell. "Only certain rooms and floors are used, some rented out as apartments, some as offices. But the really spectacular thing," he added, pausing for breath, "is, as you might have guessed from our upwards climb... the roof."
With another key, Colin opened the door at the top of the last flight of steps, and led Ryan out into the dusk.
The view was staggering. The land fell away behind the building, revealing impressively tall trees all the way down and up the next rise, the foothills of some truly impressive mountains. The sun seemed pierced on the tips of the most distant ones, all deep scarlet and burnished orange, framed by deep grey and navy clouds.
"It's beautiful," Ryan said at last. He turned toward Colin, who was watching his reaction carefully, and added, "It's almost like you planned the rain this way."
"I got lucky," Colin said, smiling.
"But what if you hadn't?" Ryan wanted to know. "What would you have done?"
Colin tilted his head back slightly, eyes moving over Ryan's earnest face. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly.
Ryan leaned his head down ever so slightly, his lips barely forming the word. "Intimately."
Slowly, Colin raised his hands to Ryan's shoulders and, stepping forward, pushed him, gently, back into the wall. "Good," he whispered, his mouth only inches from Ryan's. "Because I don't know if I do."
Ryan rested his hands on Colin's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Colin. About before. It was... rash."
"No... necessary," Colin corrected.
Ryan swallowed. "You think so?"
"We're here, aren't we?"
"Where's 'here'?"
"...Here." Hardly daring to breathe, Colin crossed the last few inches of space between them and pressed his lips to Ryan's.
It was soft, and warm, and sweet, and there was a kind of desperation in the way their tongues met and Ryan nipped at Colin's bottom lip and Colin ran his hands through Ryan's wet hair, pulling them together, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, chest to chest, and Ryan's arms held Colin around his waist so tightly Colin was sure there would be fingerprints left in his sides, imprinting him, marking him as Ryan's for good.
Good.
Behind them, the sun slowly fell into the shadow of the mountains, and the drying motorcycle glistened in the dim glow of the streetlight below.
--End.
For: Caelieth,
who asked for: "Ryan/Colin romancy type stuff or Clive/Greg, or Greg/Jeff, or a gen friendship ficcy."
Well... I tried. It got really long and rather serious, but I hope it wasn't too bad. Still a novice WLiiA writer...
Posted in two parts in my journal here and linked to on WL_Fanfiction because of said lengthy length.
I hope you like it, Caelieth. :)
The Scene
The studio seemed colder than usual. Ryan parked the motorcycle absently, now decidedly dusty and used-looking, with a carelessness he wouldn't have dreamed over yesterday. It just didn't seem important anymore.
He avoided the rest of the performers for as long as possible, showing up for coffee minutes before they were due to begin. Wayne and Brad were talking subdued in a corner, shooting Colin, who was gazing unfocused in the vague direction of a magazine, concerned looks. He was currently attempting to pour coffee into his mug with his donut. He picked up the still-empty cup up and took a drink without seeming to noticing. Ryan nearly smiled.
"Hey, Ryan," Wayne called, noticing him for the first time. Colin's hand tightened on his mug, which he shot an accusing look at as he realized there was no coffee in it.
Dan pushed the door open. "Show time, funny men! Move out!"
"A truly inspiring pep talk," Brad grinned, and they headed for the stage.
Colin wondered if the audience could tell something was off. Brad and Wayne obviously did, but did their best to cover and make up for it. Still, the laughs seemed more subdued than usual, and he knew his responses were sluggish. He and Ryan were both professionals, but they weren't clicking like usual, or even as well as when Ryan had still been distant and angry, and he knew they weren't hiding it very well. Drew seemed to be picking up on it too, hitting the buzzer earlier and more often, and once or twice shooting them looks that said clearly, "Snap out of it, you're falling."
And then they were playing Whose Line. "That's right," Drew said cheerfully to the camera, "we have a game called Whose Line here on Whose Line..."
Ryan and Colin took their suggestions and their places, not meeting each other's eyes.
"The scene is: Romeo and Juliet! On the balcony. Ryan is..." he paused, drawing out the suspense. Colin was already rolling his eyes. "Romeo! And Colin, of course, is Juliet."
"Of course? What do you mean 'of course'?" Colin mocked to soft audience tittering.
"...Juliet, you're on your balcony, calling out to your would-be lover below--" Colin and Ryan looked away from each other-- "as things begin to deviate from Shakespeare's classic script."
"'Deviate'?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah, you know," Drew tried to explain. "Go wrong. A great 'what if' scenario."
"Right," Ryan scoffed, shaking his head.
"Any time you're ready, wonder boy," Drew snarked.
Colin immediately assumed a dramatic pose, hands clasped over his heart. "Oh, Romeo! Here art we in romantic tête-à-tête hence things shall go horribly awry!" The audience laughed dutifully, recognizing the tried and true repeat-the-suggestion opening gag. "Wherefore art thou Romeo... Deny thy--" (sexuality) "--father and refuse thy--" (wfie) "--name..." (Get a grip, Colin...)
"Oh for God's sake speak English," Ryan snapped in mock anger. He dug in his pocket for a suggestion and added, "’And come give daddy a hug’!" Oh please don't...
Dutifully, Colin mimed climbing down a ladder. He pause mid-invisible rung, shaking one leg. "Ouch! Ouch, a thorn is caught in my ridiculously poofy and gilded skirts! This is why you're supposed to do all the climbing around!"
Ryan mimed helping Colin down, careful not to actually touch him. "That's just like you air-headed medieval women, always wanting the men to do everything!" he complained loudly.
"I do as a good girl should, just as my mother taught me!" Colin responded. "Well, except for seeing you illicitly." Something flickered in Ryan's face, and Colin regretted the line immediately. "Just like my mother always taught me," he repeated, trying to cover, reaching for a suggestion. "’All you need is love, sweet love! And a hard boiled egg!’"
"Well, you can have the egg," Ryan said, pretending to hand him one. Colin mimed waving away a disgusting smell and tossed it gingerly over his shoulder. "But as for love... how can I love someone from such a different family? That's what I came to tell you tonight, that I'm just not sure I can do this anymore!"
"What are you saying?" Colin cried.
Ryan nearly gaped at him. "...I thought it was fairly obvious, Juliet darling!"
Colin wondered when, exactly, they'd left the scene behind. That look in Ryan's eyes had nothing to do with the moment, or comedy. They were falling apart, the scene with them, and...
"Then perhaps you should translate into Old English," Colin suggested, thinking fast.
Ryan pulled out another suggestion. "’All your bases are now belong to me’!" he cried, and, with a sudden look of wildness in his eyes, rushed forward and grabbed Colin's butt with both hands, to whoops from the audience. "See! Just like that."
"Romeo--oh!" Colin jumped as if he'd been pinched. "You forward thing!" He pretended to blush and fan himself, reaching hurriedly for another suggestion. "’Kiss me, you fool’!" he read without thinking. Ohshit.
Ryan's eyes were dark, and Colin could not read them. Slowly, Ryan reached for his own suggestion, and Colin very nearly burst into relieved, completely inappropriate laughter when he heard, in deadpan tones, "But--'I'm just a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world'!"
Colin backed away hastily. "Whoa! That's a bit more serious than some in-law communication issues!"
"But I love you, my darling!" Ryan half-shouted dramatically, posing ridiculously. The audience was giggling, but Colin could see Ryan's eyes, and he prayed for the buzzer to sound. "What have you to say to that?"
Colin reached for his last suggestion, hoping for an easy way out. "’Grab your sponge and wipe me down’!" he called, raising one hand sky-high in a bad imitation of dramatic Shakespearean acting.
"Forsooth!" Ryan shouted, and, rushing forward, swept Colin up in his arms, holding his own final suggestion. "Surely, 'for it is I, ladies man, man's man, man about town’! And I am good at such things!" He gazed intently at Colin, eyes burning, face completely free of tension and simply open, waiting, and suddenly Colin realized exactly what he should have done when Ryan had him against that wall.
The buzzer sounded and they headed instantly for their seats, Colin's head spinning and Ryan's expression once more closed and guarded.
Ryan barely heard Drew announcing the next game, gazing out unseeingly at the audience. It was too late. It had always been too late, and now they even had no more time to talk. Except Colin obviously didn't want to talk, the way he'd just shut down during the scene... And he shouldn't have tried that. He'd lost control, been horribly unprofessional. Like a rookie.
Suddenly, viciously depressed, Ryan started composing Drew-bashing hoedown rhymes in his head. At least he might get some satisfaction out of the stupid game and this rotten day.
The Jacket
Several weeks later
Colin sat by the window watching it rain and pretending not to hear the phone not ringing. Ryan never phoned. He knew that, just as surely as he knew he couldn't call Ryan. But the silence was still impossibly outspoken. Do something, it urged. Don't leave it like this. It's not right. It's not true.
But what of the consequences of telling the truth?
He needed to get out of the house.
The busiest street he could find was full of shoppers hurrying from doorway to doorway, packages and over their heads, unsuccessfully dodging the rain. He pulled his hood up and let the water slide off him, enjoying the downpour in the true fashion of someone with nowhere to go and time on his hands.
That was when he saw the sign: Leather Goods. And directly below in the window display...
Perfect.
Colin strode inside past some wet, disgruntled shoppers, ready to make things right.
"How can I help you?" a sales associate asked, hurrying over with a big fake smile.
Colin cheerfully offered his own genuine one. "Just one thing. Do you deliver?"
One more week later
Ryan sat by the window watching it rain and pretending not to see the phone out the corner of his eye. He ought to get out of the house. Distract himself. Anything but continue this circular argument of nonexistent phone calls and blame. What was done was done, and he needed to... well... get a grip.
Colin always did know what he was talking about.
His thoughts turned to the motorcycle, buried in the very back of the shed, under as many piles of useless junk as he'd been able to find. He really ought to sell it or something...
The doorbell rang. He heard his wife answer, muted conversation. The door closed. He nearly headed for the sanctuary of his study when he heard her footsteps coming--he really didn't have the energy for conversation--but there wasn't time.
Surprisingly, she had a package. "It's for you," she said curiously. "Did you order something?"
Ryan just looked at her. "No."
"Well, here it is."
The box was rectangular, a few inches deep, and rain-splattered. Distractedly, Ryan wandered to his study, searching for scissors to break the thick tape.
Some brand name was emblazoned fancily along the box lid under the shipping cardboard. Cutting through some more tape, Ryan lifted it off, and pulled away the packing tissue.
He stared.
The soft black leather shone in the same entrancing way his motorcycle did. Ryan lifted it out of the box without a word, taking in the length of the arms and the narrowness of the waist. Whoever sent this knew Ryan's sizes better than he did himself.
'Whoever.' As if he needed to ask.
Unnoticed, Pat came up behind him. "That's... shiny."
Ryan flinched. "Hm? Oh. Yes."
She picked through the tissue in the box, pulling out a card. "Oh! Colin's going to be in town."
Ryan looked up sharply. "When?"
"Today, actually. He gets done shooting a commercial at six." She looked at the jacket thoughtfully. "Did he forget your birthday?"
"Yes." Ryan checked his watch. 4:30 p.m. Perfect. "Let me see the card?" Silently, she handed it over, and he noted the address before dropping it back in the box. "I'd better get going. I'll need to thank him."
Still staring at the jacket, he slowly headed for the door.
Pat watched him go with a puzzled expression on her face. Finally, she just rolled her eyes and picked up box to add to the trash. "Men," she said with a sigh.
"Sure you don't need a ride, Colin? Taxi called?"
"I'm fine, Ben, thanks," Colin replied warmly, adjusting his jacket hood to better keep out the light rain that was still falling. "My ride's on the way."
"Well, if you're sure..."
The smooth roar of a motorcycle engine drowned the rest of the offer, and suddenly Colin couldn't stop grinning.
There's one thing you can say for actors, he thought, watching the sable blur that was leather-jacketed, reflective-sunglassed Ryan speeding in on the motorcycle. They know how to make an entrance in style.
Ben glanced at Colin, amused. "Wouldn't have put you down for the biker-boyfriend type," he teased. Colin clapped him on the shoulder. "Ben, my friend," he said dramatically, "we live and learn."
Shaking his head, Ben turned and headed for his own car. "We live..." Colin repeated softly.
He approached Ryan slowly, almost shyly. Ryan pulled off his helmet, slid off his sunglasses, and faced Colin with just a hint of a smile, lips slightly parted. Almost... invitingly. He looked content. As if for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Colin stopped close enough to feel Ryan's warm breath on his face. "Nice ride," he said.
"Depends on the company," Ryan replied, a drop of rain trickling down his nose.
Colin leaned forward, breathing in Ryan's scent, meeting his eyes, their foreheads nearly touching. "Care for a suggestion?"
"Anything."
"Head for 8th and Coronado, then take Rolland."
"Helmet first, please."
Colin gladly traded his hood for the ridiculously bright helmet. Ryan ran a hand through his now rain-soaked hair, slicking it back, before putting his own back on. Colin straddled the bike and wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan's waist. "Look for the blue building," he added.
"Anything you say," Ryan answered softly, and they were off.
As they drove sedately across town, through stop and go traffic, the rain stopped, and a break in the clouds appeared overhead. The setting sun blazed played spectacular shades of deep purple across the still cloud-thick horizon. Eventually, the traffic thinned a bit, and they entered more residential districts. Rolland turned out to be a wide, tree-lined street that appeared to lead almost straight into the mountains.
The building was off by itself in a largely empty lot. It was also, as Colin had said, completely bright blue. It stood out well from its more traditionally colored neighbors. At Colin's direction, Ryan parked in the back, and Colin pulled out a key that unlocked a small side door.
"I know a guy who knows a guy," Colin explained, leading Ryan to a dimly lit stairwell. "Only certain rooms and floors are used, some rented out as apartments, some as offices. But the really spectacular thing," he added, pausing for breath, "is, as you might have guessed from our upwards climb... the roof."
With another key, Colin opened the door at the top of the last flight of steps, and led Ryan out into the dusk.
The view was staggering. The land fell away behind the building, revealing impressively tall trees all the way down and up the next rise, the foothills of some truly impressive mountains. The sun seemed pierced on the tips of the most distant ones, all deep scarlet and burnished orange, framed by deep grey and navy clouds.
"It's beautiful," Ryan said at last. He turned toward Colin, who was watching his reaction carefully, and added, "It's almost like you planned the rain this way."
"I got lucky," Colin said, smiling.
"But what if you hadn't?" Ryan wanted to know. "What would you have done?"
Colin tilted his head back slightly, eyes moving over Ryan's earnest face. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly.
Ryan leaned his head down ever so slightly, his lips barely forming the word. "Intimately."
Slowly, Colin raised his hands to Ryan's shoulders and, stepping forward, pushed him, gently, back into the wall. "Good," he whispered, his mouth only inches from Ryan's. "Because I don't know if I do."
Ryan rested his hands on Colin's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Colin. About before. It was... rash."
"No... necessary," Colin corrected.
Ryan swallowed. "You think so?"
"We're here, aren't we?"
"Where's 'here'?"
"...Here." Hardly daring to breathe, Colin crossed the last few inches of space between them and pressed his lips to Ryan's.
It was soft, and warm, and sweet, and there was a kind of desperation in the way their tongues met and Ryan nipped at Colin's bottom lip and Colin ran his hands through Ryan's wet hair, pulling them together, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, chest to chest, and Ryan's arms held Colin around his waist so tightly Colin was sure there would be fingerprints left in his sides, imprinting him, marking him as Ryan's for good.
Good.
Behind them, the sun slowly fell into the shadow of the mountains, and the drying motorcycle glistened in the dim glow of the streetlight below.
--End.