-Title: Conversation -Author: foureyedsnail -Rating (G-NC17): G -Main Character(s) and/or pairings: Ryan/Colin, but unrequited -Summary: He comes for conversation... Disclaimer: This is, naturally, a work of fiction, and all events, characters, and relationships herein are purely fictional. Any relation to actual people or occurences is only (happy) coincidence. And, of course, the song lyric is the property of Joni Mitchell. He comes for conversation I comfort him sometimes Comfort and consultation He knows that’s what he’ll find “Hey Ryan!” I shout over the hustle and bustle of the crowded café, trying to hide the eagerness in my voice. His head, a good six inches above any around him, turns toward the sound of my voice and he smiles. I do, too. He maneuvers his way through the crowd and sidles into the booth across from me. He looks pretty much the same as ever—he seems to have lost the beard, for better or worse, and probably to Pat’s relief. I spend a moment just drinking in his eyes, his curls, scrutinizing his face for the warm smile I know so well in the dim light of the café. It takes me a moment to realize he’s said something. “Heya Col. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” “Too long,” I reply lightly, trying to keep my tone from betraying how ardently I mean it. I’m not entirely successful. He regards me in mild amusement for a moment, before he concurs softly. “Too long,” he repeats, and he sounds, for the briefest moment, a touch regretful as well. A moment passes. In our conversations—in our private conversations—these quiet moments of mutual understanding pass often. They are far from awkward pauses, and more even than companionable silences. They are times when no words are needed…when words would just clutter the air where something far more fundamental, far deeper is being exchanged. This particular moment conveys more than a thousand “I missed you’s” ever could. I bring him grapes and cheeses He brings me songs to play He sees me when he pleases I see him in cafes And I only say, hello And turn away before his lady knows How much I want to see him She removes him, like a ring To wash her hands She only brings him out to show her friends I want to free him After a minute, I tentatively break the silence. “How are the kids?” Standard conversation, ritualistic, but it suffices. “Beautiful, as always,” he laughs, “Mackenzie was having a bit of trouble in school earlier this year, but now her teachers tell me she’s doing great. Likes reading.” “Wonderful,” I say, smiling fondly. The Stiles children have always been like my own family, and their Uncle Colin is infamous for sneaking them sweets before dinner, much to Pat’s chagrin. “I’ll have to come visit them sometime.” He nods, and his gaze lingers on me for a moment before he asks, “How’s Luke?” I rest my chin on my hand absently. “All right, I think. He’s doing well in school…particularly fond of one girl; walks her home fairly often.” I chuckle. “His mom doesn’t much approve of that…thinks he’s growing up too soon.” “They all do,” Ryan says sagely, and what would be meaningless from anyone else is the shared wisdom of parenthood from him. He continues to watch me with prompting green eyes, encouraging me to go on, so I do. “He’s…he’s handling the separation well, I think,” I say softly, “He complains occasionally that he gets more time with his mother than with me, but I think that might just be to make me feel better.” I offer a light smile. Ryan’s tone is cautiously compassionate, “He’s okay with it, then?” “Yes,” I say, voice colored with the barest hint of guilt, “I think he understands.” The fact that he understands never ceases to amaze me, and makes me wonder if Deb might have told him about it beforehand. Such a terrible thing to foist on a child. Ryan interrupts my quiet circle of thoughts before it can get too deep, as always. “Hey, want a drink? I bet you’re burned out, what with the traveling…” I smile and nod. “Sure. What about you, still on vacation? I would’ve dropped by, but I wasn’t sure if you were home, and we’re only here for the weekend…” Ryan grins and passes me a drink. “You and Brad’re running all over the country, then? I hear you don’t have a break ‘til Christmas.” I nod and rub my eyes with genuine tiredness. “Yeah. We got a gig in Seattle in a couple days. Keeping busy, you know.” He nods in understanding and we fall back into comfortable silence. Secrets and sharing soda That’s how our time began Love is a story told to a friend Its second hand He stares off into space for a while, thoughtfully, making no attempt at conversation, and I take the opportunity to study him again. It is often that way, now, with the brief moments we are together…something deep within me scrutinizes and saves each second to bring out for reflection later, etches his soft profile into my mind, recalls the deep timbre of his voice without any prompting. Sometimes, the depth of my affection for him feels wrong, like I am betraying my wife, my children, our friendship. But mostly it feels like the most natural thing in the world. “Col?” he snaps me out of it gently, and I am back in the here and now. “I was saying, you could come by tonight, if you’ve got time, the kids are with their aunt, it’d be nice and quiet.” His smile is warm and invitational, and I grin. “Sure, if it’s not too much trouble. That’d be great.” His eyes are still crinkled in a smile. “Great, Pat’ll be so glad to see you again…” My own smile does not waver, a fact of which I am infinitely proud. “Me too. How’s she doing?” He sighs, a deep sigh, a weary sigh, a sorrowful sigh. The kind of sigh I gave after signing the divorce papers. The sigh I will give when he leaves and our ways part again. “She’s been…odd…lately.” But I’ll listen to his questions I’ll give my answers when they’re found He says she keeps him guessing But I know she keeps him down She speaks in sorry sentences Miraculous repentances I don’t believe her Tomorrow he will come to me And he’ll speak his sorrow endlessly and he’ll ask me why Why can’t I leave her? “How so?” I say delicately, and he looks at me with frustrated confusion. “I’m not really sure. She says I don’t spend enough time with her and the kids, but when I stay home she’s always out doing things. She wants me to be involved with everything, but always complains I am trying to take over decision-making. She claims I am putting work over my kids, but I’m not, Col!” His voice has risen only slightly, but the escalation of emotion is stark. He catches my eye desperately, asking me what to do. I swallow. “Hey, Ry, it’s okay, maybe it’s just hormonal, or a phase or something…” He snorts, and I bow my head, acknowledging that it was weak. He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and I quash the though guiltily that he looks darling so distressed. Every inch the concerned husband, I remind myself sternly. “I don’t know,” he says finally, “I dunno what to do.” I steel my heart and reach over the table to grasp his hand firmly, looking up into his eyes, and say the hardest words I have ever had to say. “Don’t give up on it yet, Ryan. You love her, she loves you. She’ll come around, don’t worry.” I give a smile that I hope looks more genuine then it feels. “Although you may not have confidence in my opinion, with my marital background, I think it’ll work out. I really do.” He stares into my eyes for a moment, and then shuts his eyelids for a moment. “Thanks, Col. I…I know.” Briefly, I wonder just how much he knows. In what seems like a minute, he has risen from his seat. “I gotta go, Colin,” he says, waving as he hurries out, “But I’ll see you tonight, right?” “Right,” I say softly, and then he is gone. He comes for conversation I comfort him sometimes Comfort and consultation He knows that’s what he’ll find The song is Joni Mitchell's "Conversation", and I really highly recommend it and all her songs, they're all beautiful and enlightening. ;) Cheers