the_water_clock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_water_clock) wrote2008-04-07 11:31 am
the_water_clock) wrote2008-04-07 11:31 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Goodbye, Mr. Seacrest (AI: Ryan/Simon, PG), 7/13
Author: Clio
Title: Goodbye, Mr. Seacrest, or, To Simon, with Love: Rymon Missing Scenes from the Fast Times at Idol High 80s AU
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: PG
Summary: What Mr. Cowell really asked JP about the semi-formal, and what happened later that evening.
Length: 1300 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, clearly, as Simon doesn't need to steal champagne from other people's parties.
Notes: Fast Times at Idol High,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lillijulianne's 80s high school AU, can be read by friending stepintomyocean.
Special thanks to Juli for writing this awesome AU, letting me be a part of it, encouraging me get my teacher kink on, and of course being an amazing beta. Oh, and for writing Ryan and Simon into her story in the first place.
Prologue: September 1981 | 1: September 1984 | 2: October 1984 | 3: November 1984 | 4: December 1984 | 5: January 1985 | 6: February 1985
march 1985
Simon has been in a foul mood since Monday, when Lythgoe got word of Jon Peter Lewis's plans to take Tamyra to the semi-formal. Tamyra is a particular favorite of Simon's; she started working in the office during her study halls when she was a sophomore, and Simon adores how unflappable she is, so professional at such a young age. He not only wrote a glowing letter of recommendation for her, he called the admissions office at Spelman on her behalf to ensure that she got at least an interview, and they in turn called him just the other day to let him know that an acceptance letter was on its way to her. She sings beautifully, too, is part of that drama-chorus-band clique that Simon can gratefully treat with benign neglect; any trouble they get into is generally due more to high spirits than real disrespect. He knows, immediately, that Tamyra would never date anyone just to be provocative. What she sees in Mr. Lewis he does not know; he seems a bit nerdy, while Tamyra is a real looker, but perhaps it's the music. So when Lythgoe insists that Simon call Mr. Lewis into his office and interrogate him, Simon wants to protest, but instead decides to use the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity, make sure that Mr. Lewis has the mettle to help Tamyra through whatever unpleasantness is ahead of them, as she's sure to get the harsher end of the stick.
Jon Peter's manner is resigned, rather than sullen, as he walks into the office, which puts Simon even more at ease. He should have known, really, that Jon Peter would have the same kind of determination that his cousin does, even if he doesn't show it as openly.
Simon shuffles the papers on his desk, avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Lewis, thank you for coming. The question I'm expected to ask you is, are you trying to be disruptive."
"Huh?"
Typical. Simon looks up. "Your purpose in bringing Miss Gray to the dance tonight, is it disruption."
"No, sir."
"Right, I didn't think so, that will be all." Simon flicks at the paper, then decides to indulge himself. "Mr. Lewis?"
"Yes sir?" he asks, one hand on the doorknob.
"What is your purpose then?"
Mr. Lewis, to his credit, looks confused. "Um, she's a cool girl and I like being around her?"
Cool seems like the right word. Simon nods. "Good man. Off you go."
As Mr. Lewis leaves, Ryan comes in, carrying two extra chairs. He takes a look in the outer office, then quickly pushes the door shut behind him. "Better?"
"I will be after tonight," Simon says, and Ryan reaches across the desk and squeezes his hand. They share a long look, then Ryan lets go and opens the door again.
Randy Jackson walks in, looks at the two of them, and rolls his eyes. He and Simon are close friends, joined by their mistrust and contempt for Lythgoe, and frequently work together to get around the more onerous of the man's edicts. Other than Miss Doolittle, he's the only one at Hughes who knows about Ryan and Simon.
"What?" Ryan says.
"Never mind. They've just arrived," Randy says.
"Great," Simon replies. "Where is—ah, Ms. Sloan," he says, as Sabrina appears over Randy's shoulder. "Come in, take a seat here next to Ryan."
Randy walks out, returns with two people behind him, and then perches on the edge of Simon's desk. Simon stands.
"Mrs. Sparks, Mr. Sparks," he says, shaking their hands. "Thank you so much for agreeing to help us."
Ryan can't remember a more tense dance in all his years of teaching, but the kids really rose to the occasion. Well, some of them, and Ryan wonders exactly how long Blake will win his little social war against the smarter set. Certainly speculation on that has kept him distracted from what is, or isn't, coming in the mail; it's ridiculous, as he's as nervous as any of the seniors. Ryan, ever the gentleman, follows Sabrina Sloan home, and her hug after he walks her to her door makes him wonder if she's guessed about him, as it's unrestrained in the way women often are with gay men but are careful never to be with even married straight ones. He wonders if the possibility of New York, and the probability of this being his last year even if he doesn't get the Harvey Milk job, have put a chink in his armor, and then decides he doesn't actually care.
He parks his car on the street, as usual, and empties the mailbox, sifting through the mail as he moves up the front walk. There's a bank statement thick with canceled checks, the water bill, a letter from a college friend, and an invitation to Ben and Jason's Oscar party in a few weeks, which includes a ballot for the pool. Ryan's money is on Amadeus, as even Simon liked it and he hates anything that smells of Broadway. His sentimental hopes are for the Harvey Milk documentary, which they had all made a special trip to Springfield to see during its one week run at the art house, to win its category. He thinks that if he gets the job, he'll make sure that the kids see that documentary in class, and perhaps do their local history project on gay New York, makes a mental note to find out if anyone at the New York Public Library could help them.
And its while he's having this thought, one of a million pipe dreams about curricula for a job he doesn't have yet, that he sees the envelope postmarked "New York NY 10003." His hands shake as he unlocks the front door, and once inside he collapses into reading chair in the dark and stares at the envelope. Well, if it's bad news, he'd rather get it when Simon isn't here, so he can spend that time being happy for him, as there is no way Simon doesn't have that job. He turns on his reading lamp, takes a deep breath, and opens the envelope.
"Dear Mr. Seacrest," it says, "We are delighted to inform you …"
Ryan makes a noise, half laugh, half sob. He reads it again, then stands up and jumps up and down, dancing around his living room shouting. He puts Queen on the stereo at high volume, and is singing along when Simon comes in: I want to break free.
Simon's laughing. "I could see you through the window," he says.
Ryan feels like his grin could split his face in two. "We're leaving!" he says.
Simon pulls a bottle of champagne from behind his back, the yellow Veuve Cliquot label glowing in the soft light of the reading lamp. "I stole this from Bruce's party," he says, "because I knew we'd want it."
"You knew?" Ryan asks, turning down the stereo.
"Well, I presumed," Simon says, walking back into the kitchen. "But I am always right." He opens the bottle with a soft pop and pours into two of Ryan's juice tumblers. "Here's to a new beginning," he says, handing a glass to Ryan.
"Here's to making a difference," Ryan says, and clinks glasses. But he can't help himself—after one sip, he sets his glasses on the counter and leans over, pulling Simon into a kiss. Simon deepens it, his arm strong around Ryan's waist, and the tumblers are set in the sink as they make out. They break apart, a little breathless, and lean their foreheads together. "Here's to us," Ryan says.
"Here's to us indeed," Simon says, and kisses him again.
8: April 1985
Notes:
The obverse of this chapter, where JP takes Tamyra to the semi-formal, can be found at the end of Chapter 27.
The Times of Harvey Milk won the Best Feature Length Documentary at the Oscars that spring, so Ryan might have won his Oscar pool given that Amadeus swept nearly everything else. Harvey Milk was a camera store owner in San Francisco who ran for the board of supervisors, ultimately winning in 1977 when the board changed to neighborhood-based districts rather than city-at-large seats. He and Mayor George Moscone were killed in their offices in city hall the next year by former fellow member of the board Dan White—not because Milk was gay, but for complicated reasons having to do with city politics exacerbated by White's depression.
Harvey Milk's life and death had long-reaching effects. Despite having killed Moscone and Milk surrounded by witnesses, White got five years for manslaughter thanks to his "twinkie defense" of being unable to premeditate the killings due to depression and a junk-food sugar high. (He later committed suicide.) Universal disgust over this result led to the change of both the wording of California's "diminished capacity" law and the criteria for first-degree murder. Now-Senator Diane Feinstein, who took over as mayor, was catapulted onto the national stage. A biography of Milk, The Mayor of Castro Street, was Randy Shilts's first book; the San Francisco Chronicle reporter would go on to write the history of the early years of the AIDS epidemic, And the Band Played On. Gus Van Sant's new film, Milk, stars Sean Penn and will be out later this year. Time named Milk one of the 20 "Heroes and Inspirations" of the 20th century, right up there with Lindbergh and Rosa Parks and Anne Frank.
Title: Goodbye, Mr. Seacrest, or, To Simon, with Love: Rymon Missing Scenes from the Fast Times at Idol High 80s AU
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: PG
Summary: What Mr. Cowell really asked JP about the semi-formal, and what happened later that evening.
Length: 1300 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, clearly, as Simon doesn't need to steal champagne from other people's parties.
Notes: Fast Times at Idol High,
lillijulianne's 80s high school AU, can be read by friending stepintomyocean.Special thanks to Juli for writing this awesome AU, letting me be a part of it, encouraging me get my teacher kink on, and of course being an amazing beta. Oh, and for writing Ryan and Simon into her story in the first place.
Prologue: September 1981 | 1: September 1984 | 2: October 1984 | 3: November 1984 | 4: December 1984 | 5: January 1985 | 6: February 1985
march 1985
Simon has been in a foul mood since Monday, when Lythgoe got word of Jon Peter Lewis's plans to take Tamyra to the semi-formal. Tamyra is a particular favorite of Simon's; she started working in the office during her study halls when she was a sophomore, and Simon adores how unflappable she is, so professional at such a young age. He not only wrote a glowing letter of recommendation for her, he called the admissions office at Spelman on her behalf to ensure that she got at least an interview, and they in turn called him just the other day to let him know that an acceptance letter was on its way to her. She sings beautifully, too, is part of that drama-chorus-band clique that Simon can gratefully treat with benign neglect; any trouble they get into is generally due more to high spirits than real disrespect. He knows, immediately, that Tamyra would never date anyone just to be provocative. What she sees in Mr. Lewis he does not know; he seems a bit nerdy, while Tamyra is a real looker, but perhaps it's the music. So when Lythgoe insists that Simon call Mr. Lewis into his office and interrogate him, Simon wants to protest, but instead decides to use the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity, make sure that Mr. Lewis has the mettle to help Tamyra through whatever unpleasantness is ahead of them, as she's sure to get the harsher end of the stick.
Jon Peter's manner is resigned, rather than sullen, as he walks into the office, which puts Simon even more at ease. He should have known, really, that Jon Peter would have the same kind of determination that his cousin does, even if he doesn't show it as openly.
Simon shuffles the papers on his desk, avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Lewis, thank you for coming. The question I'm expected to ask you is, are you trying to be disruptive."
"Huh?"
Typical. Simon looks up. "Your purpose in bringing Miss Gray to the dance tonight, is it disruption."
"No, sir."
"Right, I didn't think so, that will be all." Simon flicks at the paper, then decides to indulge himself. "Mr. Lewis?"
"Yes sir?" he asks, one hand on the doorknob.
"What is your purpose then?"
Mr. Lewis, to his credit, looks confused. "Um, she's a cool girl and I like being around her?"
Cool seems like the right word. Simon nods. "Good man. Off you go."
As Mr. Lewis leaves, Ryan comes in, carrying two extra chairs. He takes a look in the outer office, then quickly pushes the door shut behind him. "Better?"
"I will be after tonight," Simon says, and Ryan reaches across the desk and squeezes his hand. They share a long look, then Ryan lets go and opens the door again.
Randy Jackson walks in, looks at the two of them, and rolls his eyes. He and Simon are close friends, joined by their mistrust and contempt for Lythgoe, and frequently work together to get around the more onerous of the man's edicts. Other than Miss Doolittle, he's the only one at Hughes who knows about Ryan and Simon.
"What?" Ryan says.
"Never mind. They've just arrived," Randy says.
"Great," Simon replies. "Where is—ah, Ms. Sloan," he says, as Sabrina appears over Randy's shoulder. "Come in, take a seat here next to Ryan."
Randy walks out, returns with two people behind him, and then perches on the edge of Simon's desk. Simon stands.
"Mrs. Sparks, Mr. Sparks," he says, shaking their hands. "Thank you so much for agreeing to help us."
Ryan can't remember a more tense dance in all his years of teaching, but the kids really rose to the occasion. Well, some of them, and Ryan wonders exactly how long Blake will win his little social war against the smarter set. Certainly speculation on that has kept him distracted from what is, or isn't, coming in the mail; it's ridiculous, as he's as nervous as any of the seniors. Ryan, ever the gentleman, follows Sabrina Sloan home, and her hug after he walks her to her door makes him wonder if she's guessed about him, as it's unrestrained in the way women often are with gay men but are careful never to be with even married straight ones. He wonders if the possibility of New York, and the probability of this being his last year even if he doesn't get the Harvey Milk job, have put a chink in his armor, and then decides he doesn't actually care.
He parks his car on the street, as usual, and empties the mailbox, sifting through the mail as he moves up the front walk. There's a bank statement thick with canceled checks, the water bill, a letter from a college friend, and an invitation to Ben and Jason's Oscar party in a few weeks, which includes a ballot for the pool. Ryan's money is on Amadeus, as even Simon liked it and he hates anything that smells of Broadway. His sentimental hopes are for the Harvey Milk documentary, which they had all made a special trip to Springfield to see during its one week run at the art house, to win its category. He thinks that if he gets the job, he'll make sure that the kids see that documentary in class, and perhaps do their local history project on gay New York, makes a mental note to find out if anyone at the New York Public Library could help them. And its while he's having this thought, one of a million pipe dreams about curricula for a job he doesn't have yet, that he sees the envelope postmarked "New York NY 10003." His hands shake as he unlocks the front door, and once inside he collapses into reading chair in the dark and stares at the envelope. Well, if it's bad news, he'd rather get it when Simon isn't here, so he can spend that time being happy for him, as there is no way Simon doesn't have that job. He turns on his reading lamp, takes a deep breath, and opens the envelope.
"Dear Mr. Seacrest," it says, "We are delighted to inform you …"
Ryan makes a noise, half laugh, half sob. He reads it again, then stands up and jumps up and down, dancing around his living room shouting. He puts Queen on the stereo at high volume, and is singing along when Simon comes in: I want to break free.
Simon's laughing. "I could see you through the window," he says.
Ryan feels like his grin could split his face in two. "We're leaving!" he says.
Simon pulls a bottle of champagne from behind his back, the yellow Veuve Cliquot label glowing in the soft light of the reading lamp. "I stole this from Bruce's party," he says, "because I knew we'd want it."
"You knew?" Ryan asks, turning down the stereo.
"Well, I presumed," Simon says, walking back into the kitchen. "But I am always right." He opens the bottle with a soft pop and pours into two of Ryan's juice tumblers. "Here's to a new beginning," he says, handing a glass to Ryan.
"Here's to making a difference," Ryan says, and clinks glasses. But he can't help himself—after one sip, he sets his glasses on the counter and leans over, pulling Simon into a kiss. Simon deepens it, his arm strong around Ryan's waist, and the tumblers are set in the sink as they make out. They break apart, a little breathless, and lean their foreheads together. "Here's to us," Ryan says.
"Here's to us indeed," Simon says, and kisses him again.
8: April 1985
Notes:
The obverse of this chapter, where JP takes Tamyra to the semi-formal, can be found at the end of Chapter 27.
The Times of Harvey Milk won the Best Feature Length Documentary at the Oscars that spring, so Ryan might have won his Oscar pool given that Amadeus swept nearly everything else. Harvey Milk was a camera store owner in San Francisco who ran for the board of supervisors, ultimately winning in 1977 when the board changed to neighborhood-based districts rather than city-at-large seats. He and Mayor George Moscone were killed in their offices in city hall the next year by former fellow member of the board Dan White—not because Milk was gay, but for complicated reasons having to do with city politics exacerbated by White's depression.
Harvey Milk's life and death had long-reaching effects. Despite having killed Moscone and Milk surrounded by witnesses, White got five years for manslaughter thanks to his "twinkie defense" of being unable to premeditate the killings due to depression and a junk-food sugar high. (He later committed suicide.) Universal disgust over this result led to the change of both the wording of California's "diminished capacity" law and the criteria for first-degree murder. Now-Senator Diane Feinstein, who took over as mayor, was catapulted onto the national stage. A biography of Milk, The Mayor of Castro Street, was Randy Shilts's first book; the San Francisco Chronicle reporter would go on to write the history of the early years of the AIDS epidemic, And the Band Played On. Gus Van Sant's new film, Milk, stars Sean Penn and will be out later this year. Time named Milk one of the 20 "Heroes and Inspirations" of the 20th century, right up there with Lindbergh and Rosa Parks and Anne Frank.