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the_water_clockAuthor: 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 happened after Ryan went to talk to Mayor Davis.
Length: 1200 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, clearly, as Simon would never hide behind a tree.
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 | 7: March 1985
april 1985
He's had it in the back of his mind ever since Dunkleman got on the board. He made his decision to leave back in December, before the trip to New York, before the letter came, so when Davis tapped Dunkleman he knew it would come to this. Ryan Seacrest, sacrificial bishop, zig zagging his way across the board.
So when the time comes, he plays the last card in his hand, the only card he was ever really holding, had ever held. After, he walks out to his car, his bright little stereotypical 6-year-old Saab turbo, and drives away cool as a cucumber, because it's still not actually him.
Around the bend, just out of sight of the house, he pulls the car over, and Simon comes out from behind a tree, like a spy. A spy in the house of love Ryan thinks wildly as he climbs over the gear shift and into the passenger seat. Simon is momentarily confused, but gets behind the wheel anyway.
"Why—"
"I can't," Ryan says. He holds out his hands, and they're shaking. It's over now, and the enormity of everything is hitting him, and—"just drive."
Simon pushes in the cigarette lighter, then puts the car in gear, takes off the emergency brake, and starts back down the road. "There's something you should know—I would have told you but you were teaching all afternoon, and I wanted you to focus on Clive."
"There's more?" Ryan asks. "I did this for nothing?"
"No," Simon says. "Something else. Mr. Aiken. He was in possession of some, shall we say, suggestive photographs of Mr. Richardson, pictures that were taken by someone with a very good eye—"
"Oh God—"
"—and this afternoon some very … responsible students gave them to Mr. Hicks—"
"You have to be—"
"—who despite vehement advice to the contrary, decided the best course of action was to deliver them to the boy's clergyman—"
"No—"
"and we have Friday night services at First Mayberry and Saturday morning shifts at the mill to thank for nothing being able to happen until after the revue at Greene Street." Simon lights a Kool, inhaling as though he hadn't smoked in ages.
He coughs, feels it rising in the back of his throat. "Stop—stop the car," Ryan says.
"What? We're in the middle—"
"Stop the CAR!" Ryan shouts, sitting up and unbuckling the seat belt.
"I can't—"
"STOP THE MOTHERFUCKING CAR!" Ryan screams, banging on the dashboard.
Simon pulls over to the side of the road. "What is the—"
Ryan flings his door open and vomits, violently, onto grass and gravel. Simon turns off the car, rubs Ryan's back as he retches, even after his stomach is empty. Eventually he stops and pulls himself back inside, slumps against the car seat, panting.
"Ryan, are you—"
"Just take me home," Ryan says in a raspy whisper. "I want to go home." He pulls the door closed and stares out of the window.
Ryan can feel Simon looking at him, but he can't meet even that man's eyes, or look at himself in the side mirror. They've pulled over next to a clearing where the large metal towers of the power grid cut through the forest and he watches, idly, as a crow dips and weaves between the thick high-tension wires. He realizes what freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose actually means in a way he never has before. When Simon starts up the car again and pulls back onto the road, Ryan turns his head, watching the crow as long as he can.
At the house, Simon puts on the kettle, as is his wont, and then gets on the phone. While he brushes his teeth, Ryan hears Simon calling Melinda, Rev. Sligh, Phil Stacey, Randy. He emerges from the bathroom to a cup of tea sitting on the coffee table, and takes it gratefully, sitting down on the couch next to Simon.
"Could you?" he's saying, on what Ryan thinks is the fifth call, though he can't tell who's on the other end of the line. "I think we need an emergency meeting. Yes. No, I think—right. Just the thing. Exactly." He smiles at Ryan, pats his hand. "Thank you sweetheart. See you later." He hangs up, then asks, "Feeling better?"
"Who was that?" Ryan asks.
"Giuliana," Simon replies. "Would you like a biscuit?"
"Yeah," he says, taking a ginger snap from a plate. "Why were you calling her?"
"Because you need your friends around you tonight if you're going to emcee the revue tomorrow."
"What if I wanted to be alone?" Ryan asks.
"I wouldn't let you," Simon says, smooth as anything. "What should we have for dinner? Ben can pick it up on his way over."
"You called Ben?"
"Giuliana is calling Ben and Jason," Simon says, "and Melinda is coming and bringing a strawberry pie. Ooh, six of us, we can play Trivial Pursuit. You're so good at the brown questions."
"But—"
"Unlike me," Simon says, "you will have to pretend that everything is wonderful tomorrow. I can scowl and stalk around, and no one will care. But you will have to run that revue you just saved, and we can't have you brooding over all this. Sunday I'll draw you a bath and you can fall apart in as dramatic a fashion as you like, and Saturday night we can get good and drunk, but tomorrow you need to perform, and that means you can't withdraw. Not from me anyway."
Ryan blinks. "I—why are you—"
"We've done what we can do," Simon says, running a hand through Ryan's hair. "It's out of our hands now."
"I just …" Ryan stops, realizes he has no words, and lets himself collapse against Simon, feels Simon wrap strong arms around him. He pulls his legs up onto the couch, tucks into Simon's lap, and doesn't even realize he's crying until he feels the wetness on Simon's shirt. "I'm sorry," he says, snuffling.
"Don't be," Simon says, and they sit there quietly for some minutes, Simon holding him tight and Ryan clinging to his shoulder. After a while, Ryan feels him poking into the front pocket of his jacket. "Good thing you insist on these handkerchiefs," he says, handing the brightly patterned fabric to Ryan.
Ryan sits up, blows his nose. "It's a pocket square," Ryan says. "Silk doesn't make a very practical handkerchief." He wipes his eyes.
"You were fantastic today," Simon says. "And you'll be fantastic tomorrow. Let your friends support you tonight."
Ryan takes a deep breath and lets it out, still a little shaky, but better. "Okay. But—"
"Look, worst case," Simon says, reading Ryan's mind again, "he'll be out of here and in Tuscaloosa by September."
"Tuscaloosa?"
"Yes. That's what Hicks wants; that's what Dunkleman will want. It's what a lot of people want. But Tuscaloosa is still a college town, even if it is in Alabama. And when he's not on that football field—well."
Ryan nods. "Where there's life. I was older than he is."
"So was I," Simon says. "So, what are we having for dinner?"
Ryan smiles. "Weaver D's," he replies. "And we'd better eat up. No barbecue up in New York City."
9: May 1985
Notes:
Posting two at a time the next few weeks to catch up to the main story timeline. The obverse of this chapter, where you can see what Ryan said to Mayor Davis, is in chapter 31.
Oh, Trivial Pursuit. It blew into the US out of Canada and brought with it Alex Trebek to host Jeopardy (which was resurrected because of the popularity of the game). The colors have changed, so I must say that originally:
Pink: Entertainment
Blue: Geography
Yellow: History
Green: Science & Nature
Orange: Sports & Leisure
Brown: Arts & Literature
No wild card. No 'arts and entertainment'. Trivial Pursuit was not for sissies. And Ryan would of course be really good at the "brown questions." (By the way, I'm sort of a killer, so I'll tell you the real secret to winning the game: answer as few non-pie questions as possible. "Roll Again" is your friend for this.)
Weaver D's is a little shout out to REM—their slogan, "Automatic for the People", is the title of one of their best albums.
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 happened after Ryan went to talk to Mayor Davis.
Length: 1200 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, clearly, as Simon would never hide behind a tree.
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 | 7: March 1985
april 1985
He's had it in the back of his mind ever since Dunkleman got on the board. He made his decision to leave back in December, before the trip to New York, before the letter came, so when Davis tapped Dunkleman he knew it would come to this. Ryan Seacrest, sacrificial bishop, zig zagging his way across the board.
So when the time comes, he plays the last card in his hand, the only card he was ever really holding, had ever held. After, he walks out to his car, his bright little stereotypical 6-year-old Saab turbo, and drives away cool as a cucumber, because it's still not actually him.
Around the bend, just out of sight of the house, he pulls the car over, and Simon comes out from behind a tree, like a spy. A spy in the house of love Ryan thinks wildly as he climbs over the gear shift and into the passenger seat. Simon is momentarily confused, but gets behind the wheel anyway.
"Why—"
"I can't," Ryan says. He holds out his hands, and they're shaking. It's over now, and the enormity of everything is hitting him, and—"just drive."
Simon pushes in the cigarette lighter, then puts the car in gear, takes off the emergency brake, and starts back down the road. "There's something you should know—I would have told you but you were teaching all afternoon, and I wanted you to focus on Clive."
"There's more?" Ryan asks. "I did this for nothing?"
"No," Simon says. "Something else. Mr. Aiken. He was in possession of some, shall we say, suggestive photographs of Mr. Richardson, pictures that were taken by someone with a very good eye—"
"Oh God—"
"—and this afternoon some very … responsible students gave them to Mr. Hicks—"
"You have to be—"
"—who despite vehement advice to the contrary, decided the best course of action was to deliver them to the boy's clergyman—"
"No—"
"and we have Friday night services at First Mayberry and Saturday morning shifts at the mill to thank for nothing being able to happen until after the revue at Greene Street." Simon lights a Kool, inhaling as though he hadn't smoked in ages.
He coughs, feels it rising in the back of his throat. "Stop—stop the car," Ryan says.
"What? We're in the middle—"
"Stop the CAR!" Ryan shouts, sitting up and unbuckling the seat belt.
"I can't—"
"STOP THE MOTHERFUCKING CAR!" Ryan screams, banging on the dashboard.
Simon pulls over to the side of the road. "What is the—"
Ryan flings his door open and vomits, violently, onto grass and gravel. Simon turns off the car, rubs Ryan's back as he retches, even after his stomach is empty. Eventually he stops and pulls himself back inside, slumps against the car seat, panting.
"Ryan, are you—"
"Just take me home," Ryan says in a raspy whisper. "I want to go home." He pulls the door closed and stares out of the window.
Ryan can feel Simon looking at him, but he can't meet even that man's eyes, or look at himself in the side mirror. They've pulled over next to a clearing where the large metal towers of the power grid cut through the forest and he watches, idly, as a crow dips and weaves between the thick high-tension wires. He realizes what freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose actually means in a way he never has before. When Simon starts up the car again and pulls back onto the road, Ryan turns his head, watching the crow as long as he can.
At the house, Simon puts on the kettle, as is his wont, and then gets on the phone. While he brushes his teeth, Ryan hears Simon calling Melinda, Rev. Sligh, Phil Stacey, Randy. He emerges from the bathroom to a cup of tea sitting on the coffee table, and takes it gratefully, sitting down on the couch next to Simon.
"Could you?" he's saying, on what Ryan thinks is the fifth call, though he can't tell who's on the other end of the line. "I think we need an emergency meeting. Yes. No, I think—right. Just the thing. Exactly." He smiles at Ryan, pats his hand. "Thank you sweetheart. See you later." He hangs up, then asks, "Feeling better?"
"Who was that?" Ryan asks.
"Giuliana," Simon replies. "Would you like a biscuit?"
"Yeah," he says, taking a ginger snap from a plate. "Why were you calling her?"
"Because you need your friends around you tonight if you're going to emcee the revue tomorrow."
"What if I wanted to be alone?" Ryan asks.
"I wouldn't let you," Simon says, smooth as anything. "What should we have for dinner? Ben can pick it up on his way over."
"You called Ben?"
"Giuliana is calling Ben and Jason," Simon says, "and Melinda is coming and bringing a strawberry pie. Ooh, six of us, we can play Trivial Pursuit. You're so good at the brown questions."
"But—"
"Unlike me," Simon says, "you will have to pretend that everything is wonderful tomorrow. I can scowl and stalk around, and no one will care. But you will have to run that revue you just saved, and we can't have you brooding over all this. Sunday I'll draw you a bath and you can fall apart in as dramatic a fashion as you like, and Saturday night we can get good and drunk, but tomorrow you need to perform, and that means you can't withdraw. Not from me anyway."
Ryan blinks. "I—why are you—"
"We've done what we can do," Simon says, running a hand through Ryan's hair. "It's out of our hands now."
"I just …" Ryan stops, realizes he has no words, and lets himself collapse against Simon, feels Simon wrap strong arms around him. He pulls his legs up onto the couch, tucks into Simon's lap, and doesn't even realize he's crying until he feels the wetness on Simon's shirt. "I'm sorry," he says, snuffling.
"Don't be," Simon says, and they sit there quietly for some minutes, Simon holding him tight and Ryan clinging to his shoulder. After a while, Ryan feels him poking into the front pocket of his jacket. "Good thing you insist on these handkerchiefs," he says, handing the brightly patterned fabric to Ryan.
Ryan sits up, blows his nose. "It's a pocket square," Ryan says. "Silk doesn't make a very practical handkerchief." He wipes his eyes.
"You were fantastic today," Simon says. "And you'll be fantastic tomorrow. Let your friends support you tonight."
Ryan takes a deep breath and lets it out, still a little shaky, but better. "Okay. But—"
"Look, worst case," Simon says, reading Ryan's mind again, "he'll be out of here and in Tuscaloosa by September."
"Tuscaloosa?"
"Yes. That's what Hicks wants; that's what Dunkleman will want. It's what a lot of people want. But Tuscaloosa is still a college town, even if it is in Alabama. And when he's not on that football field—well."
Ryan nods. "Where there's life. I was older than he is."
"So was I," Simon says. "So, what are we having for dinner?"
Ryan smiles. "Weaver D's," he replies. "And we'd better eat up. No barbecue up in New York City."
9: May 1985
Notes:
Posting two at a time the next few weeks to catch up to the main story timeline. The obverse of this chapter, where you can see what Ryan said to Mayor Davis, is in chapter 31.
Oh, Trivial Pursuit. It blew into the US out of Canada and brought with it Alex Trebek to host Jeopardy (which was resurrected because of the popularity of the game). The colors have changed, so I must say that originally:
Pink: EntertainmentBlue: Geography
Yellow: History
Green: Science & Nature
Orange: Sports & Leisure
Brown: Arts & Literature
No wild card. No 'arts and entertainment'. Trivial Pursuit was not for sissies. And Ryan would of course be really good at the "brown questions." (By the way, I'm sort of a killer, so I'll tell you the real secret to winning the game: answer as few non-pie questions as possible. "Roll Again" is your friend for this.)
Weaver D's is a little shout out to REM—their slogan, "Automatic for the People", is the title of one of their best albums.
