FIC: Deithio (1/1) PG-13 RPS
TITLE: Deithio
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Ioan Gruffudd & Matthew Rhys
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: He may journey
DISCLAIMER: Ioan Gruffudd and Matthew Rhys belong only to themselves. I don't claim them, I don't claim to know them and no harm is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, seriously? Who writes RPS that's BFF fic? No, really.
Matthew knows there’s going to be trouble before Ioan’s even back from the first shoot. Every phone call, every conversation he overhears at home about Ioan’s got names attached to it, and Matthew expects that, but he doesn’t expect one name, over and over and over.
He’s sitting out on the fire escape, smoking a fag and sucking in thick London air when the phone rings and he thinks about not answering it. It’s Sunday night, which means Ioan’s routine is to call Matthew then call his Mum and then call Matthew again. But Matthew’s a bit tired of hearing Jamie’s name, and he thinks maybe he shouldn’t answer this once, even though he know he will. Brought the phone along with him for just that purpose.
“’lo?”
“Matthew?”
The voice makes his chest tighten and he nods, then remembers and answers, though he can’t remember what he says so much, but it must be something right because Ioan’s mum goes on and on about how Ioan called and asked her to call Matthew and tell him he’ll catch him next Sunday, yeah? Matthew makes more noises and he supposes they're all appropriate because eventually she says goodbye and rings off.
Matthew spends the night shivering on the fire escape.
And he never stays home on Sundays again.
**
Ioan comes home tanned from Portugal and happy, and Matthew manages a smile whenever Ioan glances his way. They’ve talked a few times, though it’s the strange, stilted conversation of strangers, not best mates, and it’s never in Welsh. He can feel Ioan looking at him from time to time, but he ignores it, pretends nothing’s happened, even though it’s obvious everything has.
Jamie comes over for dinner the night Matthew tells Ioan he’s off to Prague in a week, likely be gone three months. Ioan looks poleaxed, and Matthew keeps his face straight and tells him to tidy the lounge as they’re to have company.
Ioan doesn’t talk much that night, and Matthew finds he rather likes Jamie, and he’s not sure how he feels about that until dinner’s over and Matthew mentions a pub and Ioan says no and Jamie says thank you and Matthew leaves alone and they disappear into Ioan’s room, shutting the door and, as Matthew suspected all along, shutting him out.
**
He goes to Prague and he and Rhys-Meyers have the fun you have when you’re the only kids on a movie set, running around and wreaking personal havoc, so long as you show up and say your lines and please Julie. He actually spends time talking with Hopkins about Wales and acting and what the two mean to each other, if anything at all. Hopkins says nice things about Ioan, which Matthew’s gracious about - “Gruffudd’s got talent. Not seen you in anything worth seeing yet, have I?” - but that night he goes back to his room and stares out.
It’s the first time in the six weeks of shooting that he’s actually thought about Ioan deliberately. He’s on his mind often enough, but it’s not always intentional. Never intentional anymore. The problem is that he slips in, ingrained in who Matthew is, the goddamned voice of Matthew’s conscience or something, talking in his head in that way Ioan has.
He stares at the phone and thinks about dialing, calling and trying to put whatever’s wrong to rights, but there’s really nothing to be done about it. Matthew knows it’s just moving on, growing up. Eventually they have to stop being boys and start being men.
He just didn’t expect it to happen so suddenly, so soon.
**
There’s a party of sorts when he returns from Prague, family and friends dumped into the local pub until it’s nearly too hot and too crowded to breathe. He laughs and jokes and promises everyone that he’s upheld the British tradition of dropping his trousers, but they can all rest assured that Sir Anthony’s arse upstages his.
He searches for Ioan without thinking. He spies him soon enough, over in the corner at a table, chatting with his sister and a few of her mates, laughing at something. Matthew loves it when Ioan laughs, does everything he can to make it happen, and so he watches him. The arc of his mouth and the pure delight that flashes in his eyes. Ioan turns his head and Matthew smiles in response, the expression fading as Ioan’s gaze moves past him, and Gareth moves out of the way and Matthew sees Jamie, and everything falls into place again.
He excuses himself from the crowd around him and makes his way outside to the fresh air. He loves Cardiff more than London, because even in the city the air smells clean, brisk and fresh and like the sea. He rakes a hand through his still-blond hair and moves, away from the door, round the side of the pub.
He sits on a stack of crates and leans back against the wall, wanting a drink, wanting a fag, wanting something.
“Nothing has to change.” He looks up as Ioan leans back against the opposite wall of the alley, hands tucked in his jean pockets. “Won’t change if we don’t let it.”
“Already has. And always was going to, Ioan. You grow up. You move on. You find the person you want to be with, whoever it is, and you…go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Going places, Gruffudd. Going to be a star.” He shrugs and looks down at his hands, rubbing one thumb over the other. “Going to America. Hollywood.” He looks up again and manages a smile. “And I’m not going with you. You’ll take someone else along, some girl, some bloke. You will. You got me my first gig, Ioan. The rest are up to me.”
“This isn’t about work, Matthew.”
He looks back down and sighs, nodding. “No. No it’s not.”
“We’re friends.”
“We are.” He feels the tightness in his chest, and it hurts more than he can imagine, feels like choking, feels like dying, feels like losing. “Best friends.”
“Are we more?”
He looks up sharply, eyes wide. Ioan’s not accusing, simply asking and Matthew shrugs, wanting to look away from this, and finding he can’t. “Never thought so.”
“Until Jamie.”
“All your friends have been our friends really, until him. I mean, Leo and Kate you left on the set, didn’t you?” He tries for humor, for a smile and he sees the answering curve of Ioan’s but it never reaches those expressive eyes. “I’m not quite ready, Ioan. T-to grow up.”
“Is that what I’ve done?”
Matthew nods and looks down at the ground. “Went away a boy and somewhere along the line, you became a man.”
“I’ve not done that, Matthew. Can show you. If you let me. If you let me in again.” He pushes off the wall and comes over, sliding two fingers under Matthew’s chin and lifting it. “You’re my best mate, Matthew.”
“Thought you were shutting me out.”
Ioan frowns and squats down, looking him in the eye, putting them both at the same level. “Maybe. For a bit. But just to find out if we were friends on set or friends or…whatever. Closing doors behind me, Matthew, but all you ever had to do was knock or turn the handle. Not a one was ever locked.”
“So I’m being a wanker.”
Ioan nods, completely serious then breaks into a smile. “C’mon, Rhys. There’s a party for you in there. Rather just another night in the pub without the guest of honor.”
Matthew nods and stands, tugging Ioan up with him and pulling him into a hug in one easy gesture. Their bodies fit together and Matthew holds on for a second longer than he thinks he should, just wanting the solid feel of Ioan, his presence. “We’re okay. Yeah?”
Ioan nods and tightens his hold and Matthew can feel them breathing, rhythm all wound together as one. “Not that easy to get rid of me, Rhys.”
Matthew laughs and pulls away and nods, everything right again, or at least a world less wrong. “Damn. Have to keep trying then.”
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Ioan Gruffudd & Matthew Rhys
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: He may journey
DISCLAIMER: Ioan Gruffudd and Matthew Rhys belong only to themselves. I don't claim them, I don't claim to know them and no harm is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, seriously? Who writes RPS that's BFF fic? No, really.
Matthew knows there’s going to be trouble before Ioan’s even back from the first shoot. Every phone call, every conversation he overhears at home about Ioan’s got names attached to it, and Matthew expects that, but he doesn’t expect one name, over and over and over.
He’s sitting out on the fire escape, smoking a fag and sucking in thick London air when the phone rings and he thinks about not answering it. It’s Sunday night, which means Ioan’s routine is to call Matthew then call his Mum and then call Matthew again. But Matthew’s a bit tired of hearing Jamie’s name, and he thinks maybe he shouldn’t answer this once, even though he know he will. Brought the phone along with him for just that purpose.
“’lo?”
“Matthew?”
The voice makes his chest tighten and he nods, then remembers and answers, though he can’t remember what he says so much, but it must be something right because Ioan’s mum goes on and on about how Ioan called and asked her to call Matthew and tell him he’ll catch him next Sunday, yeah? Matthew makes more noises and he supposes they're all appropriate because eventually she says goodbye and rings off.
Matthew spends the night shivering on the fire escape.
And he never stays home on Sundays again.
**
Ioan comes home tanned from Portugal and happy, and Matthew manages a smile whenever Ioan glances his way. They’ve talked a few times, though it’s the strange, stilted conversation of strangers, not best mates, and it’s never in Welsh. He can feel Ioan looking at him from time to time, but he ignores it, pretends nothing’s happened, even though it’s obvious everything has.
Jamie comes over for dinner the night Matthew tells Ioan he’s off to Prague in a week, likely be gone three months. Ioan looks poleaxed, and Matthew keeps his face straight and tells him to tidy the lounge as they’re to have company.
Ioan doesn’t talk much that night, and Matthew finds he rather likes Jamie, and he’s not sure how he feels about that until dinner’s over and Matthew mentions a pub and Ioan says no and Jamie says thank you and Matthew leaves alone and they disappear into Ioan’s room, shutting the door and, as Matthew suspected all along, shutting him out.
**
He goes to Prague and he and Rhys-Meyers have the fun you have when you’re the only kids on a movie set, running around and wreaking personal havoc, so long as you show up and say your lines and please Julie. He actually spends time talking with Hopkins about Wales and acting and what the two mean to each other, if anything at all. Hopkins says nice things about Ioan, which Matthew’s gracious about - “Gruffudd’s got talent. Not seen you in anything worth seeing yet, have I?” - but that night he goes back to his room and stares out.
It’s the first time in the six weeks of shooting that he’s actually thought about Ioan deliberately. He’s on his mind often enough, but it’s not always intentional. Never intentional anymore. The problem is that he slips in, ingrained in who Matthew is, the goddamned voice of Matthew’s conscience or something, talking in his head in that way Ioan has.
He stares at the phone and thinks about dialing, calling and trying to put whatever’s wrong to rights, but there’s really nothing to be done about it. Matthew knows it’s just moving on, growing up. Eventually they have to stop being boys and start being men.
He just didn’t expect it to happen so suddenly, so soon.
**
There’s a party of sorts when he returns from Prague, family and friends dumped into the local pub until it’s nearly too hot and too crowded to breathe. He laughs and jokes and promises everyone that he’s upheld the British tradition of dropping his trousers, but they can all rest assured that Sir Anthony’s arse upstages his.
He searches for Ioan without thinking. He spies him soon enough, over in the corner at a table, chatting with his sister and a few of her mates, laughing at something. Matthew loves it when Ioan laughs, does everything he can to make it happen, and so he watches him. The arc of his mouth and the pure delight that flashes in his eyes. Ioan turns his head and Matthew smiles in response, the expression fading as Ioan’s gaze moves past him, and Gareth moves out of the way and Matthew sees Jamie, and everything falls into place again.
He excuses himself from the crowd around him and makes his way outside to the fresh air. He loves Cardiff more than London, because even in the city the air smells clean, brisk and fresh and like the sea. He rakes a hand through his still-blond hair and moves, away from the door, round the side of the pub.
He sits on a stack of crates and leans back against the wall, wanting a drink, wanting a fag, wanting something.
“Nothing has to change.” He looks up as Ioan leans back against the opposite wall of the alley, hands tucked in his jean pockets. “Won’t change if we don’t let it.”
“Already has. And always was going to, Ioan. You grow up. You move on. You find the person you want to be with, whoever it is, and you…go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Going places, Gruffudd. Going to be a star.” He shrugs and looks down at his hands, rubbing one thumb over the other. “Going to America. Hollywood.” He looks up again and manages a smile. “And I’m not going with you. You’ll take someone else along, some girl, some bloke. You will. You got me my first gig, Ioan. The rest are up to me.”
“This isn’t about work, Matthew.”
He looks back down and sighs, nodding. “No. No it’s not.”
“We’re friends.”
“We are.” He feels the tightness in his chest, and it hurts more than he can imagine, feels like choking, feels like dying, feels like losing. “Best friends.”
“Are we more?”
He looks up sharply, eyes wide. Ioan’s not accusing, simply asking and Matthew shrugs, wanting to look away from this, and finding he can’t. “Never thought so.”
“Until Jamie.”
“All your friends have been our friends really, until him. I mean, Leo and Kate you left on the set, didn’t you?” He tries for humor, for a smile and he sees the answering curve of Ioan’s but it never reaches those expressive eyes. “I’m not quite ready, Ioan. T-to grow up.”
“Is that what I’ve done?”
Matthew nods and looks down at the ground. “Went away a boy and somewhere along the line, you became a man.”
“I’ve not done that, Matthew. Can show you. If you let me. If you let me in again.” He pushes off the wall and comes over, sliding two fingers under Matthew’s chin and lifting it. “You’re my best mate, Matthew.”
“Thought you were shutting me out.”
Ioan frowns and squats down, looking him in the eye, putting them both at the same level. “Maybe. For a bit. But just to find out if we were friends on set or friends or…whatever. Closing doors behind me, Matthew, but all you ever had to do was knock or turn the handle. Not a one was ever locked.”
“So I’m being a wanker.”
Ioan nods, completely serious then breaks into a smile. “C’mon, Rhys. There’s a party for you in there. Rather just another night in the pub without the guest of honor.”
Matthew nods and stands, tugging Ioan up with him and pulling him into a hug in one easy gesture. Their bodies fit together and Matthew holds on for a second longer than he thinks he should, just wanting the solid feel of Ioan, his presence. “We’re okay. Yeah?”
Ioan nods and tightens his hold and Matthew can feel them breathing, rhythm all wound together as one. “Not that easy to get rid of me, Rhys.”
Matthew laughs and pulls away and nods, everything right again, or at least a world less wrong. “Damn. Have to keep trying then.”