Fic: Not That Hard To Find
Dec. 11th, 2009 04:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
harborshoreTitle: Not That Hard To Find
Pairings: Gen, implied Tennessee/Z and unrequited Ryan/girl!Spencer.
Word Count; 2712
Warnings: None
Summary: A day in the life, post-split. Wherein Ryan gets to dispense Very Important Advice, cuddle, and then has to go look for his best friend.
A/N: This one is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blindmouse, because she says things that make me think about characterization (which in its turn makes me write Ryan!fic, apparently) and, well. Merry Christmas, two weeks early. ♥, darling, I really hope you like it.
This was looked over bysoftlyforgotten, torakowalski, and colouredmango, because it's possible I was a little nervous about writing a new band. If there are any remaining problems, it is most certainly not their fault. The title belongs to Bob Dylan and comes from the song "If You See Her, Say Hello."
Most people don't know this, but Ryan likes to fix things. Spencer knows it, which is why she generally used to follow up paying Ryan's bills for him by letting Ryan untangle something for her; it's not like Ryan didn't know he was being manipulated, just a little, but best friends are allowed. He knows most people expect him to need to be taken care of, and it's not that he minds, exactly, but he really likes it when he gets to clear something up, say something that helps.
So when Z shows up on his doorstep with red-rimmed eyes at 6 in the morning, asking if he has vodka in the house, Ryan tries to think through his sleepiness and steers her away from his liquor cabinet to the couch. He touches at her elbow, gets her to lie down with her feet in his lap, and then pokes at her ankle carefully, and doesn't ask. Not yet.
"It's stupid," she says finally. "It's stupid and I'm stupid and I don't want to talk about it."
"Don't have to," he says easily, stroking at her leg a little.
"Ryan Ross, are you trying to start something here?" There's some laughter back in her voice, but not enough.
"Nah," he says, "It's kind of really early in the morning, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I thought you said it's never too early for sex?"
He grins, shaking his head. “You shouldn't trust what I say when I'm high."
"So you mean I shouldn't have trusted it when you said 'all you need is love' and then hummed the brass part?"
"No, no, that part you should trust," he says, and he doesn't quite know how he's still so sure about that but he knows he is.
She makes a noise that sounds like half of a sob, and he looks over at her. "Hey, no, come here."
And even though she says something about how bony and uncomfortable he is to snuggle, he ends up with both arms around her, holding on.
They do take a couple of shots, later, but only once she's smiling again. Through some admittedly unfortunate trial and error, Ryan has figured out that drinking when unhappy is a bad idea for him. He likes himself better now that he doesn't do that anymore, and he's been trying to convert Z to that lifestyle too. He's pretty sure she's weakening to his point of view--Ryan is a fan of carefully assembled evidence. Most of the time that makes his point for him.
(The only one that never worked on was Spencer, but that's because Spencer is even more careful about evidence than Ryan is, and she's really secure in her convictions, too. This is why Spencer is harder to fix than anyone else, because she just won't see it when she's wrong.
Somewhat like Ryan himself, in fact, except at this point Ryan's definitely getting better at realizing when he's wrong. Trial and error are inconveniently bitchy, but they're pretty helpful sometimes.)
Anyway, they take a couple of shots and crawl into Ryan's bed together, and he makes sure to keep talking, mostly about nothing at all: the sunflowers he wants to plant, the sky being weirdly gray today, Alex's latest sartorial disaster, until she's settled in, snuffling into his shoulder. He needs to call Tennessee, he knows he does, but he's just going to close his eyes for a bit, no, he needs to--
He fights it off enough to text Tenn, saying "last letter of alphabet in my bed. ?" and then he falls asleep to the rhythm of Z's oddly regular fidgeting.
--
When he wakes up, it's because Tennessee is standing over them both, looking angry and anxious all at once. He tries to nudge her into bed with them without waking Z, and is only halfway successful in that Z doesn't wake up whereas Tennessee stays next to the bed. Ryan sighs.
"Tenn, come on, get on the bed, she needs snuggling," he whispers, and her face softens.
"Is she okay?"
Ryan shrugs. "Better now. Did you guys--"
Tennessee nods. "We fought--it was really fucking stupid." Her voice cracks on the last word and she bites her lip.
Ryan aches a little at the look on her face because he knows that look. It's the my-best-friend-is-hurting look, and he's seen it on Spencer's face and he's worn it himself (even if people claim he doesn't actually show emotion, Ryan knows that's not true. He's just a bit hard to read is all).
"Come on," he says, and Tennessee finally complies, walking around the bed to Z's side and gets in. Z wakes up at that, wakes up and makes a tiny noise when she sees Tennessee, who draws a deep breath. Ryan tries to look invisible so they can have their moment (he kind of thinks neither of them can see him right now).
"I'm sorry," Tennessee says, "I'm sorry, I was an idiot--I'm sorry."
Z isn't saying anything, but Ryan thinks that's because she's crying, or at least that's what it feels like by the way she's shaking. He thinks about it for a second, and then he scoots a little closer, humming in her ear. He really wasn't wrong about that being all you need, and he knows it for sure when she laughs, startled and uncertain, and relaxes a fraction.
"Yeah, okay," she says, to him and Tennessee and the world at large, and then she pulls Tennessee closer, and Ryan decides he'd better go pick a different bed to sleep in. Not that he's averse to watching, just. Their moment.
--
He's startled out of sleep two hours later because his doorbell rings again. Jesus fucking Christ, obviously he's not meant to sleep today.
When he opens the door, he gets startled right out of his determination to be angry. Because, you know, damn.
"Hi Brendon," he says, and knows he can't keep the surprise out of his voice, or Brendon will hear it, at any rate.
Brendon swallows. "Ross, hey. You seen Spencer today?"
Ryan shakes his head, because no, he hasn't. He hasn't seen Spencer since they had lunch, not since the summer, and Brendon's looking seriously shitty, which, what the hell. One of the great unspoken conditions of the way Panic divided was always (or so Ryan thought) that Brendon would be good to Spencer. For Spencer. Something like that.
"Shit, Urie, if you broke my--" Ex-drummer? Best friend? Ryan has no idea how to finish that sentence.
"She's just gone, I can't find her," Brendon interrupts, and Ryan wants to snap right back, because what does he mean Spencer's gone? Last Ryan heard, those two were like two fucking peas in a pod, two birds on a wire.
He bites down on it and says instead "Okay, so, when was the last time you saw her?"
Brendon shrugs impatiently. "Yesterday. We finished a song and went out to celebrate."
Ryan can't stop himself from saying, "I suppose you don't do many of those, huh?" but at Brendon's look he shakes his head, because, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for."
"Wow," Brendon says, but seems to think better of continuing what must be a comment on Ryan actually apologizing. Instead he says, "So, Ross, does the best friend mojo still work?"
Ryan wishes Brendon had gone with the quip about the all-too-rare apology, because that wouldn't have hurt quite this much. He swallows. "No, I don't--I don't think it does."
"Well, wasn't this fucking pointless," Brendon says and starts to walk off. Wait.
"Wait," Ryan says. "Wait, what was the--what was the song?"
Brendon turns back and there's something in his eyes, something that reminds Ryan of Brendon recording "Folkin' Around" in one take and then refusing to sing anything else that day. "It was--it's about friendship, the song. There's a sea metaphor," of course there is, "but yeah, friendship."
"So it's about me and Jon, you mean," Ryan says, trying to keep his voice even.
"I'd call you egotistical, which would be true, except you're right."
Ryan takes a deep breath and doesn't ask exactly what Brendon's going to be singing about him and Jon. He doesn't want to know. Or he's a liar, because of course he wants to know, but right now--"I assume you've checked the beach."
"Of course I checked the beach." Implied: don't be an idiot.
"Let's check it again," Ryan decides, and shuffles back inside to grab a blazer and some shoes and check on the girls (asleep), and gets in the car with Brendon. Well, obviously they spend some time arguing over whose car to take (Ryan wins) and who's going to drive (Brendon wins), but then they drive off.
--
The beach that Brendon says is Spencer's favorite is blindingly bright, and Ryan wishes he'd remembered to bring sunglasses. Naturally, Brendon has his and offers to lend Ryan a pair that basically looks like two giant green flowers. Ryan shrugs and puts them on, because anything is better than trying to see through his eyes burning.
"Pretty," Brendon offers casually, and grins when Ryan slides them down his nose to glare witheringly. "What? You're a pretty pretty princess, I just wanted to let you know that."
"Whatever, Urie, the California dudebro thing is just a front--we all know who's the prettiest princess at the ball."
"You only wish you could pull off this look," Brendon says, waggling his eyebrows and gesturing at his "Surf's Up" t-shirt, and Ryan has to laugh, he has to, because some things never change, and maybe that's okay.
But then he stops, because, yeah, there she is. Spencer's throwing rocks at the ocean, and Ryan knows he's wearing the same look Tennessee had on her face earlier, because yeah, the best friend mojo hasn't gone anywhere and every inch of Spencer's back says she's hurting.
He swallows and looks at Brendon. "We found her," he says lamely, and Brendon shakes his head.
"Go," he says. "Go do what you do, go fix your best friend."
Ryan shakes his head at him, because Ryan doesn't know how to fix Spencer. He hasn't even heard the fucking song, seriously.
Brendon shakes his head right back, obviously mimicking Ryan, and says, “Stop being a pussy. She won't bite. I don't think. Anyway, I'll be right here if she beats you up, I can totally take you to the ER.”
Well, Brendon's an asshole, but he's also right. Sort of. Mostly. Dammit.
Ryan swallows again, wants to go drive back (it's his car, he could), but, well.
--
The walk over to Spencer feels like the longest one Ryan's ever taken, and he knows he has sand in his shoes.
When he's close enough, he clears his throat. "Hey," he says, which, as openings go leaves a little to be desired.
Spencer whirls around and turns white when she sees him. "What are you--go away," she says, and turns back to the ocean.
"What, I don't even get a laugh for the sunglasses," he says, and Spencer shakes her head, not turning around.
"They're stupid," she says, "They're stupid and they're Brendon's, I don't, I can't believe he went and got you--" There's a hitch in her breath Ryan knows he recognizes. Fine. Time for stronger stuff.
"I have sand in my shoes," he announces, and sits down to take them off.
She doesn't tell him he should have worn flip flops like a normal person, which tells Ryan she's really upset, so he rolls up his pants and walks past her, into the ocean. The water's fucking cold, but it's kind of nice, anyway; it definitely wakes him up.
He wades for a bit, then looks up at Spencer. "Are you coming in, or what?"
"It's cold," Spencer says, which is not an answer.
"That's not an answer."
"Shut up."
"Get in and make me." They've officially crossed over into toddler territory, but whatever, he can see it when she stifles a smile and shakes her head again. He likes her new haircut, shaggy and much shorter than before, but he wants to tuck her bangs behind her ear. Which isn't weird, necessarily, it's just been a while since they got in each other's personal space like that.
Ryan looks away and looks down, watching his toes wiggle under the water.
He misses her reply in his momentary distraction so he has to ask her, "What?"
She snorts. "I said, did you notice your scarf is falling off?"
"Uh, no." He busies himself gathering it back up, ugh, of course it's gotten wet.
"I suppose I'd better come in or you'll be losing your pants next," Spencer says dryly, and he laughs to cover up the reply he wants to make to that.
"I can keep track of my pants just fine, Smith, but I could use some support from a strong surfer girl."
"...now you're freaking me out, nice job." But she's toeing off her flipflops and rolling up her pants, and okay, yeah, he still has some best friend mojo, thank fuck.
He bats his eyelashes at her. "Come show me how to wade like a normal person."
"Losing the blazer would have been a good start," she says, sounding much more like herself as she's getting in. Of course, she doesn't react to the temperature at all. Goddamn surfers.
He steels himself a little when she gets close and reaches out before she can stop him (the only good thing about his freakishly long arms), drawing her in. It takes her a second to realize what's going on, and then she draws a sharp breath and tries to push him away. Spencer's mostly stronger than him, has been for a while, but he knows how to do this, so he hangs on.
Of course, because she's fighting him and he's hanging on, the inevitable happens and they fall over. If Brendon's watching (and he totally is), he's probably laughing his ass off. Ryan doesn't mind too much, though, because Spencer is laughing. He grins right back at her, grins and doesn't give a fuck that all his clothes are wet (thank god he took his shoes off, seriously), and she calls him an idiot.
"No you," he says, poking her in the ribs and then has to wipe at his eyes, because salt water stings.
Spencer twists away, laughing still, and gets up. "Come on, come back to the house with us," she says. "I'll lend you some clothes and you can make me hot chocolate while you yell at Brendon, or something."
He takes her outstretched hand and pretends to consider her invitation. "Well, I don't know, I've seen what you call suitable outfits, Smith."
"I'm not promising anything," she replies, pulling him to his feet, and he knows she's going to give him the biggest sweatpants she owns, because she's a little shit that way. He doesn't think he minds very much.
What he does mind, though, is the way he's so sure he wants to lean in, wants to lean in and kiss her, just a little, but he doesn't want to disturb whatever equilibrium they just achieved, and he wants her to keep smiling just because she's happy enough to do it.
So he doesn't kiss her, he just looks down at her face and smiles what must be a silly smile from the way she laughs at him, and then he tells her to "Well, lead the way."
She nods, but she doesn't let go of his hand, and they stop to pick up their shoes before dripping all the way back to where Brendon is standing. Sunny California, Ryan thinks, watching Spencer's hair in the light and then he doesn't think, doesn't think at all, just bumps her shoulder with his, laughs, yells at Brendon who yells right back, and they're all laughing then, they're all laughing when they get in the car.
Pairings: Gen, implied Tennessee/Z and unrequited Ryan/girl!Spencer.
Word Count; 2712
Warnings: None
Summary: A day in the life, post-split. Wherein Ryan gets to dispense Very Important Advice, cuddle, and then has to go look for his best friend.
A/N: This one is for
blindmouse, because she says things that make me think about characterization (which in its turn makes me write Ryan!fic, apparently) and, well. Merry Christmas, two weeks early. ♥, darling, I really hope you like it.This was looked over by
softlyforgotten, torakowalski, and colouredmango, because it's possible I was a little nervous about writing a new band. If there are any remaining problems, it is most certainly not their fault. The title belongs to Bob Dylan and comes from the song "If You See Her, Say Hello."Most people don't know this, but Ryan likes to fix things. Spencer knows it, which is why she generally used to follow up paying Ryan's bills for him by letting Ryan untangle something for her; it's not like Ryan didn't know he was being manipulated, just a little, but best friends are allowed. He knows most people expect him to need to be taken care of, and it's not that he minds, exactly, but he really likes it when he gets to clear something up, say something that helps.
So when Z shows up on his doorstep with red-rimmed eyes at 6 in the morning, asking if he has vodka in the house, Ryan tries to think through his sleepiness and steers her away from his liquor cabinet to the couch. He touches at her elbow, gets her to lie down with her feet in his lap, and then pokes at her ankle carefully, and doesn't ask. Not yet.
"It's stupid," she says finally. "It's stupid and I'm stupid and I don't want to talk about it."
"Don't have to," he says easily, stroking at her leg a little.
"Ryan Ross, are you trying to start something here?" There's some laughter back in her voice, but not enough.
"Nah," he says, "It's kind of really early in the morning, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I thought you said it's never too early for sex?"
He grins, shaking his head. “You shouldn't trust what I say when I'm high."
"So you mean I shouldn't have trusted it when you said 'all you need is love' and then hummed the brass part?"
"No, no, that part you should trust," he says, and he doesn't quite know how he's still so sure about that but he knows he is.
She makes a noise that sounds like half of a sob, and he looks over at her. "Hey, no, come here."
And even though she says something about how bony and uncomfortable he is to snuggle, he ends up with both arms around her, holding on.
They do take a couple of shots, later, but only once she's smiling again. Through some admittedly unfortunate trial and error, Ryan has figured out that drinking when unhappy is a bad idea for him. He likes himself better now that he doesn't do that anymore, and he's been trying to convert Z to that lifestyle too. He's pretty sure she's weakening to his point of view--Ryan is a fan of carefully assembled evidence. Most of the time that makes his point for him.
(The only one that never worked on was Spencer, but that's because Spencer is even more careful about evidence than Ryan is, and she's really secure in her convictions, too. This is why Spencer is harder to fix than anyone else, because she just won't see it when she's wrong.
Somewhat like Ryan himself, in fact, except at this point Ryan's definitely getting better at realizing when he's wrong. Trial and error are inconveniently bitchy, but they're pretty helpful sometimes.)
Anyway, they take a couple of shots and crawl into Ryan's bed together, and he makes sure to keep talking, mostly about nothing at all: the sunflowers he wants to plant, the sky being weirdly gray today, Alex's latest sartorial disaster, until she's settled in, snuffling into his shoulder. He needs to call Tennessee, he knows he does, but he's just going to close his eyes for a bit, no, he needs to--
He fights it off enough to text Tenn, saying "last letter of alphabet in my bed. ?" and then he falls asleep to the rhythm of Z's oddly regular fidgeting.
--
When he wakes up, it's because Tennessee is standing over them both, looking angry and anxious all at once. He tries to nudge her into bed with them without waking Z, and is only halfway successful in that Z doesn't wake up whereas Tennessee stays next to the bed. Ryan sighs.
"Tenn, come on, get on the bed, she needs snuggling," he whispers, and her face softens.
"Is she okay?"
Ryan shrugs. "Better now. Did you guys--"
Tennessee nods. "We fought--it was really fucking stupid." Her voice cracks on the last word and she bites her lip.
Ryan aches a little at the look on her face because he knows that look. It's the my-best-friend-is-hurting look, and he's seen it on Spencer's face and he's worn it himself (even if people claim he doesn't actually show emotion, Ryan knows that's not true. He's just a bit hard to read is all).
"Come on," he says, and Tennessee finally complies, walking around the bed to Z's side and gets in. Z wakes up at that, wakes up and makes a tiny noise when she sees Tennessee, who draws a deep breath. Ryan tries to look invisible so they can have their moment (he kind of thinks neither of them can see him right now).
"I'm sorry," Tennessee says, "I'm sorry, I was an idiot--I'm sorry."
Z isn't saying anything, but Ryan thinks that's because she's crying, or at least that's what it feels like by the way she's shaking. He thinks about it for a second, and then he scoots a little closer, humming in her ear. He really wasn't wrong about that being all you need, and he knows it for sure when she laughs, startled and uncertain, and relaxes a fraction.
"Yeah, okay," she says, to him and Tennessee and the world at large, and then she pulls Tennessee closer, and Ryan decides he'd better go pick a different bed to sleep in. Not that he's averse to watching, just. Their moment.
--
He's startled out of sleep two hours later because his doorbell rings again. Jesus fucking Christ, obviously he's not meant to sleep today.
When he opens the door, he gets startled right out of his determination to be angry. Because, you know, damn.
"Hi Brendon," he says, and knows he can't keep the surprise out of his voice, or Brendon will hear it, at any rate.
Brendon swallows. "Ross, hey. You seen Spencer today?"
Ryan shakes his head, because no, he hasn't. He hasn't seen Spencer since they had lunch, not since the summer, and Brendon's looking seriously shitty, which, what the hell. One of the great unspoken conditions of the way Panic divided was always (or so Ryan thought) that Brendon would be good to Spencer. For Spencer. Something like that.
"Shit, Urie, if you broke my--" Ex-drummer? Best friend? Ryan has no idea how to finish that sentence.
"She's just gone, I can't find her," Brendon interrupts, and Ryan wants to snap right back, because what does he mean Spencer's gone? Last Ryan heard, those two were like two fucking peas in a pod, two birds on a wire.
He bites down on it and says instead "Okay, so, when was the last time you saw her?"
Brendon shrugs impatiently. "Yesterday. We finished a song and went out to celebrate."
Ryan can't stop himself from saying, "I suppose you don't do many of those, huh?" but at Brendon's look he shakes his head, because, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for."
"Wow," Brendon says, but seems to think better of continuing what must be a comment on Ryan actually apologizing. Instead he says, "So, Ross, does the best friend mojo still work?"
Ryan wishes Brendon had gone with the quip about the all-too-rare apology, because that wouldn't have hurt quite this much. He swallows. "No, I don't--I don't think it does."
"Well, wasn't this fucking pointless," Brendon says and starts to walk off. Wait.
"Wait," Ryan says. "Wait, what was the--what was the song?"
Brendon turns back and there's something in his eyes, something that reminds Ryan of Brendon recording "Folkin' Around" in one take and then refusing to sing anything else that day. "It was--it's about friendship, the song. There's a sea metaphor," of course there is, "but yeah, friendship."
"So it's about me and Jon, you mean," Ryan says, trying to keep his voice even.
"I'd call you egotistical, which would be true, except you're right."
Ryan takes a deep breath and doesn't ask exactly what Brendon's going to be singing about him and Jon. He doesn't want to know. Or he's a liar, because of course he wants to know, but right now--"I assume you've checked the beach."
"Of course I checked the beach." Implied: don't be an idiot.
"Let's check it again," Ryan decides, and shuffles back inside to grab a blazer and some shoes and check on the girls (asleep), and gets in the car with Brendon. Well, obviously they spend some time arguing over whose car to take (Ryan wins) and who's going to drive (Brendon wins), but then they drive off.
--
The beach that Brendon says is Spencer's favorite is blindingly bright, and Ryan wishes he'd remembered to bring sunglasses. Naturally, Brendon has his and offers to lend Ryan a pair that basically looks like two giant green flowers. Ryan shrugs and puts them on, because anything is better than trying to see through his eyes burning.
"Pretty," Brendon offers casually, and grins when Ryan slides them down his nose to glare witheringly. "What? You're a pretty pretty princess, I just wanted to let you know that."
"Whatever, Urie, the California dudebro thing is just a front--we all know who's the prettiest princess at the ball."
"You only wish you could pull off this look," Brendon says, waggling his eyebrows and gesturing at his "Surf's Up" t-shirt, and Ryan has to laugh, he has to, because some things never change, and maybe that's okay.
But then he stops, because, yeah, there she is. Spencer's throwing rocks at the ocean, and Ryan knows he's wearing the same look Tennessee had on her face earlier, because yeah, the best friend mojo hasn't gone anywhere and every inch of Spencer's back says she's hurting.
He swallows and looks at Brendon. "We found her," he says lamely, and Brendon shakes his head.
"Go," he says. "Go do what you do, go fix your best friend."
Ryan shakes his head at him, because Ryan doesn't know how to fix Spencer. He hasn't even heard the fucking song, seriously.
Brendon shakes his head right back, obviously mimicking Ryan, and says, “Stop being a pussy. She won't bite. I don't think. Anyway, I'll be right here if she beats you up, I can totally take you to the ER.”
Well, Brendon's an asshole, but he's also right. Sort of. Mostly. Dammit.
Ryan swallows again, wants to go drive back (it's his car, he could), but, well.
--
The walk over to Spencer feels like the longest one Ryan's ever taken, and he knows he has sand in his shoes.
When he's close enough, he clears his throat. "Hey," he says, which, as openings go leaves a little to be desired.
Spencer whirls around and turns white when she sees him. "What are you--go away," she says, and turns back to the ocean.
"What, I don't even get a laugh for the sunglasses," he says, and Spencer shakes her head, not turning around.
"They're stupid," she says, "They're stupid and they're Brendon's, I don't, I can't believe he went and got you--" There's a hitch in her breath Ryan knows he recognizes. Fine. Time for stronger stuff.
"I have sand in my shoes," he announces, and sits down to take them off.
She doesn't tell him he should have worn flip flops like a normal person, which tells Ryan she's really upset, so he rolls up his pants and walks past her, into the ocean. The water's fucking cold, but it's kind of nice, anyway; it definitely wakes him up.
He wades for a bit, then looks up at Spencer. "Are you coming in, or what?"
"It's cold," Spencer says, which is not an answer.
"That's not an answer."
"Shut up."
"Get in and make me." They've officially crossed over into toddler territory, but whatever, he can see it when she stifles a smile and shakes her head again. He likes her new haircut, shaggy and much shorter than before, but he wants to tuck her bangs behind her ear. Which isn't weird, necessarily, it's just been a while since they got in each other's personal space like that.
Ryan looks away and looks down, watching his toes wiggle under the water.
He misses her reply in his momentary distraction so he has to ask her, "What?"
She snorts. "I said, did you notice your scarf is falling off?"
"Uh, no." He busies himself gathering it back up, ugh, of course it's gotten wet.
"I suppose I'd better come in or you'll be losing your pants next," Spencer says dryly, and he laughs to cover up the reply he wants to make to that.
"I can keep track of my pants just fine, Smith, but I could use some support from a strong surfer girl."
"...now you're freaking me out, nice job." But she's toeing off her flipflops and rolling up her pants, and okay, yeah, he still has some best friend mojo, thank fuck.
He bats his eyelashes at her. "Come show me how to wade like a normal person."
"Losing the blazer would have been a good start," she says, sounding much more like herself as she's getting in. Of course, she doesn't react to the temperature at all. Goddamn surfers.
He steels himself a little when she gets close and reaches out before she can stop him (the only good thing about his freakishly long arms), drawing her in. It takes her a second to realize what's going on, and then she draws a sharp breath and tries to push him away. Spencer's mostly stronger than him, has been for a while, but he knows how to do this, so he hangs on.
Of course, because she's fighting him and he's hanging on, the inevitable happens and they fall over. If Brendon's watching (and he totally is), he's probably laughing his ass off. Ryan doesn't mind too much, though, because Spencer is laughing. He grins right back at her, grins and doesn't give a fuck that all his clothes are wet (thank god he took his shoes off, seriously), and she calls him an idiot.
"No you," he says, poking her in the ribs and then has to wipe at his eyes, because salt water stings.
Spencer twists away, laughing still, and gets up. "Come on, come back to the house with us," she says. "I'll lend you some clothes and you can make me hot chocolate while you yell at Brendon, or something."
He takes her outstretched hand and pretends to consider her invitation. "Well, I don't know, I've seen what you call suitable outfits, Smith."
"I'm not promising anything," she replies, pulling him to his feet, and he knows she's going to give him the biggest sweatpants she owns, because she's a little shit that way. He doesn't think he minds very much.
What he does mind, though, is the way he's so sure he wants to lean in, wants to lean in and kiss her, just a little, but he doesn't want to disturb whatever equilibrium they just achieved, and he wants her to keep smiling just because she's happy enough to do it.
So he doesn't kiss her, he just looks down at her face and smiles what must be a silly smile from the way she laughs at him, and then he tells her to "Well, lead the way."
She nods, but she doesn't let go of his hand, and they stop to pick up their shoes before dripping all the way back to where Brendon is standing. Sunny California, Ryan thinks, watching Spencer's hair in the light and then he doesn't think, doesn't think at all, just bumps her shoulder with his, laughs, yells at Brendon who yells right back, and they're all laughing then, they're all laughing when they get in the car.
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Date: 2010-04-22 02:18 am (UTC)I seriously love your take on Ryan here, with his knack for fixing things and gaining wisdom through experience. Really enjoyed the whole subversion of roles in this one, too. Mmmmgood. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-04-22 12:25 pm (UTC)