FIC: Too Much Time
Dude, my head hurt writing this. Good luck understanding it. *sighs* But yes. Happy Birthday Indy! ^_^
Title: Too Much Time
Rating: Well ... PG. If even. *coughs politely*
Pairing: You know. Random combinations of the Ryan/Colin/Greg triangle.
Summary: "Ryan?" he asks - not "Ry", not yet, because it'll be another six months before he first hears Colin call him that, his forehead creasing in concern, his fingertips on Ryan's elbow; six months 'til he watches Ryan turn his head and smile gently, shrug, a little sheepishly; six months before he pretends not to hear Ryan murmur, "Later," - pretends not to notice Colin's grip tighten, for a long moment.
"Ryan?" he asks - not "Ry", not yet, because it'll be another six months before he first hears Colin call him that, his forehead creasing in concern, his fingertips on Ryan's elbow; six months 'til he watches Ryan turn his head and smile gently, shrug, a little sheepishly; six months before he pretends not to hear Ryan murmur, "Later," - pretends not to notice Colin's grip tighten, for a long moment.
Ryan glances at him, blankly, for a split second - because it's eight months before that stare becomes the norm - and grins. "Just tired," he replies, simply - dismissively - and it's three months before Greg'll catch him in the first lie ("I thought you weren't up for company," he'll say, dryly, surprising Ryan only slightly, and Ryan'll glance away from Colin, lift his chin defensively. "I changed my mind," he'll reply, slowly, tightly; Greg'll snort, and Ryan'll turn his back again.)
"OK," he says, doubtfully - and it's another eight months until he realises how much that tone pisses Ryan off, and nine until he uses it intentionally ("Oh, he just happened to be there? Of course.")
Ryan ignores him; it's a year before that stops bothering him. "Where's Colin?" he adds - and in less than six months, he'll ask it again, sarcastically - but Ryan's reply will be the same; he shrugs, irritably.
"You're just the life of the party tonight," he deadpans - and in seven months time, he won't be half as cocky.
Colin approaches slowly - it's almost a year before he'll be sitting, watching Greg approach; "Room for one more?" he asks, and Ryan wordlessly slides over.
He meets Greg's gaze, uneasily; it's eleven months before they'll be alone together backstage - Colin'll shoot him a similarly wary look, and he'll shrug, because he just doesn't care anymore; Colin'll say, softly, without looking at him that he never meant for- and Greg'll cut him off.
Ryan taps Colin's thigh; it's two years before he's game enough to slide his hand up the inside Colin's denim-clad thigh, in this booth. "When's your flight?" he asks, quietly, because it's eighteen months before Colin starts booking his ticket for him.
"Tomorrow night," he murmurs - and it's seventeen months before he and Greg will share an awkward plane trip home; "I don't care," Greg'll insist, again, almost petulantly, "I'm - I'm happy for you," - and Colin'll nod, gamely.
He meets Greg's gaze again, briefly; it'll be another five years until he watches those eyes darken; another five years until he meets Colin's gaze, smugly; he'll ask, "You like that?" and he won't even mind that he gets no answer.
Ryan nods, distractedly; it's five years until his apathy truly bothers Colin; "What do you want from me?" he'll snap, and Colin'll just shake his head. "Nothing," he'll say, thoughtfully.
There's a pause (it'll be almost a decade until they can all sit together in a truly comfortable silence); Ryan pats Colin between the shoulder blades, companionably - in less than two months, he'll press a deliberate kiss there, Colin's back now bare, and Colin will sigh, quietly.
"How about a toast?" Colin says, suddenly, and Greg snorts; "To us," he declares, firmly (for him); "To us," Greg parrots - and it'll be years before he realises that Colin knows exactly when he's mocking him. Ryan smirks at Greg (it'll be nearly fifteen years later that Greg finally learns to ignore it) but indulges Colin (in fifteen years, he'll have long stopped). "To us," he echoes - and in two decades, he won't have spoken to either of them in years.
Title: Too Much Time
Rating: Well ... PG. If even. *coughs politely*
Pairing: You know. Random combinations of the Ryan/Colin/Greg triangle.
Summary: "Ryan?" he asks - not "Ry", not yet, because it'll be another six months before he first hears Colin call him that, his forehead creasing in concern, his fingertips on Ryan's elbow; six months 'til he watches Ryan turn his head and smile gently, shrug, a little sheepishly; six months before he pretends not to hear Ryan murmur, "Later," - pretends not to notice Colin's grip tighten, for a long moment.
"Ryan?" he asks - not "Ry", not yet, because it'll be another six months before he first hears Colin call him that, his forehead creasing in concern, his fingertips on Ryan's elbow; six months 'til he watches Ryan turn his head and smile gently, shrug, a little sheepishly; six months before he pretends not to hear Ryan murmur, "Later," - pretends not to notice Colin's grip tighten, for a long moment.
Ryan glances at him, blankly, for a split second - because it's eight months before that stare becomes the norm - and grins. "Just tired," he replies, simply - dismissively - and it's three months before Greg'll catch him in the first lie ("I thought you weren't up for company," he'll say, dryly, surprising Ryan only slightly, and Ryan'll glance away from Colin, lift his chin defensively. "I changed my mind," he'll reply, slowly, tightly; Greg'll snort, and Ryan'll turn his back again.)
"OK," he says, doubtfully - and it's another eight months until he realises how much that tone pisses Ryan off, and nine until he uses it intentionally ("Oh, he just happened to be there? Of course.")
Ryan ignores him; it's a year before that stops bothering him. "Where's Colin?" he adds - and in less than six months, he'll ask it again, sarcastically - but Ryan's reply will be the same; he shrugs, irritably.
"You're just the life of the party tonight," he deadpans - and in seven months time, he won't be half as cocky.
Colin approaches slowly - it's almost a year before he'll be sitting, watching Greg approach; "Room for one more?" he asks, and Ryan wordlessly slides over.
He meets Greg's gaze, uneasily; it's eleven months before they'll be alone together backstage - Colin'll shoot him a similarly wary look, and he'll shrug, because he just doesn't care anymore; Colin'll say, softly, without looking at him that he never meant for- and Greg'll cut him off.
Ryan taps Colin's thigh; it's two years before he's game enough to slide his hand up the inside Colin's denim-clad thigh, in this booth. "When's your flight?" he asks, quietly, because it's eighteen months before Colin starts booking his ticket for him.
"Tomorrow night," he murmurs - and it's seventeen months before he and Greg will share an awkward plane trip home; "I don't care," Greg'll insist, again, almost petulantly, "I'm - I'm happy for you," - and Colin'll nod, gamely.
He meets Greg's gaze again, briefly; it'll be another five years until he watches those eyes darken; another five years until he meets Colin's gaze, smugly; he'll ask, "You like that?" and he won't even mind that he gets no answer.
Ryan nods, distractedly; it's five years until his apathy truly bothers Colin; "What do you want from me?" he'll snap, and Colin'll just shake his head. "Nothing," he'll say, thoughtfully.
There's a pause (it'll be almost a decade until they can all sit together in a truly comfortable silence); Ryan pats Colin between the shoulder blades, companionably - in less than two months, he'll press a deliberate kiss there, Colin's back now bare, and Colin will sigh, quietly.
"How about a toast?" Colin says, suddenly, and Greg snorts; "To us," he declares, firmly (for him); "To us," Greg parrots - and it'll be years before he realises that Colin knows exactly when he's mocking him. Ryan smirks at Greg (it'll be nearly fifteen years later that Greg finally learns to ignore it) but indulges Colin (in fifteen years, he'll have long stopped). "To us," he echoes - and in two decades, he won't have spoken to either of them in years.