the_water_clock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_water_clock) wrote2008-04-28 09:48 am
the_water_clock) wrote2008-04-28 09:48 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Goodbye, Mr. Seacrest (AI: Ryan/Simon, NC-17), 13/13
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: NC-17
Summary: A home with a garden, books and a dog, the footsteps of friends—and you.
Length: 2300 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, even though Ryan probably does make a mean hollandaise and Simon probably doesn't like eating his greens.
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. And it's almost completed, so now's the time to read it straight through!
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 | 8: April 1985 | 9: May 1985 | 10: June 1985 | 11: July 1985 | 12: August 1985
september 1985
"Mmm, good morning."
"Good morning."
"Is this your new way of waking me up?"
"It worked."
Ryan looks over at the dog bed in the corner, sees that their rat terrier, Colin, is watching, his head resting on his paws, and decides he doesn't actually care. Ryan reaches down, runs a hand through Simon's hair. "Come back up here," he says, voice still husky with sleep, and when Simon complies Ryan pulls him into a deep kiss.
After a bit, Simon says, "another go?"
"Yeah," Ryan says, lips still on Simon's, "but then I have to get cooking."
"Oh right. I promise to behave."
"I don't care what you do," Ryan says. "They're not our students anymore. And besides, they already know."
"They know I do this?" Simon asks, slipping a hand between Ryan's thighs.
"Oooh—I don't think they've thought about it that much," Ryan replies. He pulls Simon close again, then flips them over so Simon is on his back, Ryan sitting on his thighs. He reaches for the tube atop the nightstand.
"Don't need much more of that," Simon says, "after last night."
Ryan feels hot, wonders when he'll stop blushing when Simon talks about the sex they have. He focuses on the task at hand, rubbing lube on Simon's cock, then tosses the tube aside. Simon has a firm grip on Ryan's waist, lifting him up and holding him steady while Ryan maneuvers Simon's cock into his little hole, still a bit stretched and wet from the night before. He sinks down slowly, eyes closed and teeth clenched against the intrusion, until he's sitting against Simon's thighs again. He opens his eyes and Simon is staring at him, eyes a little glazed over, and Ryan smiles at him.
"Gorgeous," Simon says, and Ryan feels it, but all he can think to say is, "us." He starts to move, sliding up and down on Simon's cock, and Simon's hand is warm on Ryan's cock. Ryan has his hands on Simon's forearms, and even with everything else it's particularly hot to feel the muscle flexing as Simon jacks Ryan off. The sun shines in the bedroom window, bright on the creamy sheets, and Ryan feels warm in every way possible, all the way down to his toes. He moves faster, loving the way Simon is looking at him, and then he's not even sure who started it but they're both coming, not really together but a kind of one-two punch that he suspects Simon made sure of. Ryan collapses into Simon's arms, breathless.
He feels Simon turn his head. "Only time for one shower. Guess we'll have to take it together." He kisses the top of Ryan's head.
"You know," Ryan says, talking into Simon's chest, "I don't think taking showers together actually saves us any time."
"Perhaps not, but it's much more pleasant."
Simon is setting the table in the back garden when the doorbell rings. Ryan is busy in the kitchen, so he strides through the apartment to answer the door. "Hello!"
Leslie and Blake are young enough that they don't hide their surprise all that well, and Simon thinks, "like hell they already know." Leslie recovers first, sticks out her hand in the usual clever girl manner. "Hi Mr. Cowell!" she says brightly. "Um, we brought some fruit!"
She elbows Blake, who's still a bit googly-eyed. "And egg tarts," he says.
"Well! Come in, come in," Simon says. "Please, call me Simon; I'm not your teacher anymore. Don't mind the dog. Colin, back in the garden, go on now," he says, herding him through the back door. "Here, I'll give you the very brief tour. This is the living room, as you can see."
"Wow," Blake says. "A lot of books."
"Ryan is a literature teacher," Simon says. "This is our little dining area, and here's Ryan in the kitchen. Look, they brought us things."
Ryan looks up from where he was frying breakfast potatoes. "Wow, great," he says, taking the packages from Simon.
"Hi Mr. Seacrest!" Leslie says, and Ryan moves to hug her, and shake Blake's hand. "Can I help?"
"No, I'm almost done here. I'll be right out."
Simon leads them down the hall. "This is our office and guest room, more books as you can see, but the pull out is actually quite comfortable—Ryan's friend Giuliana stayed with us after the fashion shows two weeks ago. I do like the club chair in the corner, and so does Colin. The bedroom, which as you can see is very beige—"
"Simon!" Ryan warns.
"Sorry!" Simon calls back. "Ecru and chocolate with accents of brick and hazelnut." Blake raises his eyebrows, and Simon says, "No comment."
"I heard that," Ryan calls out.
Simon closes the door and leads the way to the back garden, where Colin is playing with a small stuffed squirrel. He sees Simon and trots up to get his toy thrown across the garden. Ryan is right behind the kids, carrying a bowl of the cut fruit Leslie had brought.
"We can start with this," he says, putting it on the outdoor table, "and end with the tarts. We're having benedict, so do either of you have a problem with runny yolks on your poached eggs?" Leslie and Blake shook their heads, still looking a bit shell-shocked to Simon, but then they did just see the bedroom. Incontrovertible evidence, that.
As Ryan heads back into the kitchen, Simon asks, "Bloody Mary?" He stirs the pitcher with a celery stick. "These are virgin but there's vodka here in the ice bucket," he says, pouring some vodka in his own glass of ice. Blake looks uncertain, staring at the bottle, then reaches out his hand. "There you go," Simon says. "Come on now, Leslie, no one's driving."
"Sure," she says, and Simon grins.
"Now it's a real party." Simon pours four drinks and Leslie is already dishing out fruit salad. "Ryan will ask you about your classes—he'll be out in a minute—but what I want to know is, are you making friends?"
"Friends?" Blake asked.
"Look, Blake, Leslie, the reason I'm good at my job is that I'm very concerned with the social lives of the students, because that's where all the trouble comes from. I know who is going to which party, and what happened there, and who's been dropped from the popular crowd—Ryan always calls them the 'smarter set' but Ryan also likes to pretend that it's 1962—"
"Excuse me?" says a voice from the kitchen.
"—and who turned who down for a date, and which boy the girls all want, and for that matter, who is all but having sex in the back of the hall during Saturday detention."
Blake starts coughing and Simon has to bite his lip to keep from grinning. Luckily Ryan walks out at that moment with two plates. "Are there rocks in it?" he asks, setting one in front of Blake and the other before Leslie.
"Just went down the wrong way," Blake manages, taking a sip of water.
"Okay. Um, this is sort of eggs benedict and florentine at the same time, some nice country ham and spinach—not yours, Leslie, yours is just spinach. There's more hollandaise, and salt and pepper and ketchup are on the table, anything else? Simon, can you help me?"
Simon follows Ryan back into the kitchen, where Ryan mutters, "That was unkind of you."
"What?" Simon whispers back. "He should know that people are watching."
"Yes, but they're apart," Ryan says. "If he wasn't over it in June he won't be over it now." He hands Simon his own plate.
"Fine, fine," Simon says, and they head back out to the garden.
Ryan sits with his plate and the little pitcher of sauce. "This is really great," Leslie says, "thank you Mr. Seacrest."
"Please, it's Ryan," he says, and then looks over to Simon. "What? What's the problem?"
"There's spinach on mine," Simon says.
"There's spinach on all of them," Ryan replies.
"But—"
"I don't want to hear it, Simon. Eat your greens, and don't try giving them to Colin, either."
Simon pours more hollandaise over his eggs and Ryan rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
"Do you have anything else to say?" Ryan asks.
Simon turns to Blake. "I'm sorry, Blake. I only meant to tease you, not remind you of anything painful."
"No, it's all right," Blake says.
"Good. By the way, Ryan, you owe me a tenner."
"Why?"
"Because they didn't know."
Ryan looks at Leslie and Blake. "How could they not know? How could you not know? I came out to both of you personally." Leslie and Blake nod. "That should have been enough—"
"Ryan, I keep telling you, students don't pay attention to us."
"—and you knew we were going to work at the same school—"
"So did our colleagues and they didn't think of it."
"—and Gina saw us leaving town together in the same car!"
"Well," Leslie says, "it just seemed improbable, I mean, Mr. Cowell—Simon, you're so much older."
"Tamyra did always say he's secretly nice," Blake says. "But we never believed her."
"I'm glad I have one fan," Simon says.
"What did you think was going on?" Ryan asks.
"Well," Leslie says. "that you're friends?"
"That you were getting a ride?" Blake asks.
"Does that make sense?" Ryan asks.
"Well, it is kinda convoluted," Blake admits.
"Simplest explanation is usually the truth," Ryan says. "That's the problem with conspiracy theories; they're too complicated."
"Yes, sir," Leslie says. "Wait, Ryan?"
"Mmm?"
"You aren't wearing your glasses. After you would make a point you would always push up your glasses, but you aren't wearing them."
Ryan grins a little, says, "I'm trying to wear contacts more. I still usually teach in glasses, though."
"I always liked the glasses," Simon says, "but obviously I have a thing for bookish nerds."
Ryan nods. "Penance for previous bad behavior," he says.
"Perhaps. But green eyes and boyish charm go further in raising money from older wealthy gay men."
"Wow, your eyes are awfully green," Leslie says.
"I've seen greener," Ryan says, looking at Blake.
Simon isn't sure what Ryan meant, but he's blushing again, which amuses Simon, so he goes on. "Last week he hosted an auction and got a record amount for Hetrick-Martin. He really has the touch with those donors. He's becoming quite the little A-lister; they want him to help raise money for GMHC too. He's going to leave me for some sugar daddy before long."
"Stop that, no I'm not."
"I'm older."
"You're not that much older, and you certainly don't act it."
Simon tips his head. "True."
"Plus you were already an A-lister, Simon. There were three separate parties given when we got back to town, only it was August, so they were all out on Fire Island."
"We should get a share next year," Simon says.
Leslie says, "Gosh, now I wonder how I didn't see it."
"No kidding," Blake says. "You're like, married or something."
Simon raises his eyebrows but Ryan just starts laughing, and Simon isn't sure he's ever seen Ryan look happier.
When he recovers, Ryan says, "Anyway, the record had as much to do with your story as anything I did."
"Oh, right," Simon says, turning to Blake. "I might have to apologize again; I'm afraid we've been using you."
"Using me?" Blake asks around a mouthful of home fries.
"Well, everyone, the whole year we had. It's a very powerful argument for the existence of the school. The donors can pat themselves on the back that it could never happen here—which, frankly, makes me wonder if they've ever been to an outer borough—while also recognizing that the cause is as important as any other. When they feel good about themselves, they give more. But Ryan's flirting does help."
"Well," Blake says, "I think—I think if something good can come out of it, then that's all right. And we're all okay, anyway, except Clay I guess."
"Clay is getting the help he needs," Ryan says. "But we should stop doing all the talking. So, tell me all about your classes, what are you taking?"
The kids do eventually answer Simon's questions, too—there's talk of clubbing, and concerts, and Simon can read minor drug use between the lines, but also music and literature and research and you-should-read-this-book. Ryan takes particular interest in Blake's sociology course as he's taken on all the social sciences as well as the humanities, and the kids are shocked again to hear that Simon is back to teaching maths. Lab sciences and arts are farmed out to NYU graduate students, but Ryan and Simon know Blake's music teacher, Anwar, very well as he also helps out at the school. After brunch there are egg tarts and tea, and a lot of playing with Colin, and the kids are there for a good four hours before they finally beg off to finish their weekend assignments, promising to return in another month or so.
Ryan settles down on the couch next to Simon, and Colin immediately hops up onto their laps, wriggling a little before settling down. "So, we're 'like, married or something.'"
"Looks like," Simon says.
"I thought you weren't the marrying sort."
Simon shrugs. "You won't be able to get any money out of me, so I suppose I'm not in much danger."
"Not in much danger of my leaving you, either," Ryan says.
"Well, there's that."
Ryan sighs. "Why do you pretend to be so unsentimental when you're the world's biggest sap?"
"Because you love it," he replies, grinning.
"Well, there's that," Ryan says, and kisses him.
fin
Notes:
Summary taken from Gilbert Blythe's proposal to Anne Shirley, in Anne of the Island. Colin and his squirrel are real, though their names have been changed.
Thank you so much to all of you who read this little series. I know for most of you reading Fast Times at Idol High Ryan and Simon aren't of interest in themselves, so that you read it at all is very special to me. Mr. Cowell and Mr. Seacrest will say their last goodbyes in the main story, but this is the end of the story I wanted to tell—of how and why and when they left, of how the events of that year changed them as well—and that part of their story is over now, so I leave the rest in the far more than capable hands oflillijulianne.
I'm already working on something else, something a little different, something my own though Ryan and Simon-centric, and if you follow me there, I'll be blessed. In the meantime, if you keep following whatlillijulianne is doing, you'll see something else of mine by and by.
Thanks!
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: NC-17
Summary: A home with a garden, books and a dog, the footsteps of friends—and you.
Length: 2300 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, even though Ryan probably does make a mean hollandaise and Simon probably doesn't like eating his greens.
Notes: Fast Times at Idol High,
lillijulianne's 80s high school AU, can be read by friending stepintomyocean. And it's almost completed, so now's the time to read it straight through!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 | 8: April 1985 | 9: May 1985 | 10: June 1985 | 11: July 1985 | 12: August 1985
september 1985
"Mmm, good morning."
"Good morning."
"Is this your new way of waking me up?"
"It worked."
Ryan looks over at the dog bed in the corner, sees that their rat terrier, Colin, is watching, his head resting on his paws, and decides he doesn't actually care. Ryan reaches down, runs a hand through Simon's hair. "Come back up here," he says, voice still husky with sleep, and when Simon complies Ryan pulls him into a deep kiss.
After a bit, Simon says, "another go?"
"Yeah," Ryan says, lips still on Simon's, "but then I have to get cooking."
"Oh right. I promise to behave."
"I don't care what you do," Ryan says. "They're not our students anymore. And besides, they already know."
"They know I do this?" Simon asks, slipping a hand between Ryan's thighs.
"Oooh—I don't think they've thought about it that much," Ryan replies. He pulls Simon close again, then flips them over so Simon is on his back, Ryan sitting on his thighs. He reaches for the tube atop the nightstand.
"Don't need much more of that," Simon says, "after last night."
Ryan feels hot, wonders when he'll stop blushing when Simon talks about the sex they have. He focuses on the task at hand, rubbing lube on Simon's cock, then tosses the tube aside. Simon has a firm grip on Ryan's waist, lifting him up and holding him steady while Ryan maneuvers Simon's cock into his little hole, still a bit stretched and wet from the night before. He sinks down slowly, eyes closed and teeth clenched against the intrusion, until he's sitting against Simon's thighs again. He opens his eyes and Simon is staring at him, eyes a little glazed over, and Ryan smiles at him.
"Gorgeous," Simon says, and Ryan feels it, but all he can think to say is, "us." He starts to move, sliding up and down on Simon's cock, and Simon's hand is warm on Ryan's cock. Ryan has his hands on Simon's forearms, and even with everything else it's particularly hot to feel the muscle flexing as Simon jacks Ryan off. The sun shines in the bedroom window, bright on the creamy sheets, and Ryan feels warm in every way possible, all the way down to his toes. He moves faster, loving the way Simon is looking at him, and then he's not even sure who started it but they're both coming, not really together but a kind of one-two punch that he suspects Simon made sure of. Ryan collapses into Simon's arms, breathless.
He feels Simon turn his head. "Only time for one shower. Guess we'll have to take it together." He kisses the top of Ryan's head.
"You know," Ryan says, talking into Simon's chest, "I don't think taking showers together actually saves us any time."
"Perhaps not, but it's much more pleasant."
Simon is setting the table in the back garden when the doorbell rings. Ryan is busy in the kitchen, so he strides through the apartment to answer the door. "Hello!"
Leslie and Blake are young enough that they don't hide their surprise all that well, and Simon thinks, "like hell they already know." Leslie recovers first, sticks out her hand in the usual clever girl manner. "Hi Mr. Cowell!" she says brightly. "Um, we brought some fruit!"
She elbows Blake, who's still a bit googly-eyed. "And egg tarts," he says.
"Well! Come in, come in," Simon says. "Please, call me Simon; I'm not your teacher anymore. Don't mind the dog. Colin, back in the garden, go on now," he says, herding him through the back door. "Here, I'll give you the very brief tour. This is the living room, as you can see."
"Wow," Blake says. "A lot of books."
"Ryan is a literature teacher," Simon says. "This is our little dining area, and here's Ryan in the kitchen. Look, they brought us things."
Ryan looks up from where he was frying breakfast potatoes. "Wow, great," he says, taking the packages from Simon.
"Hi Mr. Seacrest!" Leslie says, and Ryan moves to hug her, and shake Blake's hand. "Can I help?"
"No, I'm almost done here. I'll be right out."
Simon leads them down the hall. "This is our office and guest room, more books as you can see, but the pull out is actually quite comfortable—Ryan's friend Giuliana stayed with us after the fashion shows two weeks ago. I do like the club chair in the corner, and so does Colin. The bedroom, which as you can see is very beige—"
"Simon!" Ryan warns.
"Sorry!" Simon calls back. "Ecru and chocolate with accents of brick and hazelnut." Blake raises his eyebrows, and Simon says, "No comment."
"I heard that," Ryan calls out.
Simon closes the door and leads the way to the back garden, where Colin is playing with a small stuffed squirrel. He sees Simon and trots up to get his toy thrown across the garden. Ryan is right behind the kids, carrying a bowl of the cut fruit Leslie had brought.
"We can start with this," he says, putting it on the outdoor table, "and end with the tarts. We're having benedict, so do either of you have a problem with runny yolks on your poached eggs?" Leslie and Blake shook their heads, still looking a bit shell-shocked to Simon, but then they did just see the bedroom. Incontrovertible evidence, that.
As Ryan heads back into the kitchen, Simon asks, "Bloody Mary?" He stirs the pitcher with a celery stick. "These are virgin but there's vodka here in the ice bucket," he says, pouring some vodka in his own glass of ice. Blake looks uncertain, staring at the bottle, then reaches out his hand. "There you go," Simon says. "Come on now, Leslie, no one's driving."
"Sure," she says, and Simon grins.
"Now it's a real party." Simon pours four drinks and Leslie is already dishing out fruit salad. "Ryan will ask you about your classes—he'll be out in a minute—but what I want to know is, are you making friends?"
"Friends?" Blake asked.
"Look, Blake, Leslie, the reason I'm good at my job is that I'm very concerned with the social lives of the students, because that's where all the trouble comes from. I know who is going to which party, and what happened there, and who's been dropped from the popular crowd—Ryan always calls them the 'smarter set' but Ryan also likes to pretend that it's 1962—"
"Excuse me?" says a voice from the kitchen.
"—and who turned who down for a date, and which boy the girls all want, and for that matter, who is all but having sex in the back of the hall during Saturday detention."
Blake starts coughing and Simon has to bite his lip to keep from grinning. Luckily Ryan walks out at that moment with two plates. "Are there rocks in it?" he asks, setting one in front of Blake and the other before Leslie.
"Just went down the wrong way," Blake manages, taking a sip of water.
"Okay. Um, this is sort of eggs benedict and florentine at the same time, some nice country ham and spinach—not yours, Leslie, yours is just spinach. There's more hollandaise, and salt and pepper and ketchup are on the table, anything else? Simon, can you help me?"
Simon follows Ryan back into the kitchen, where Ryan mutters, "That was unkind of you."
"What?" Simon whispers back. "He should know that people are watching."
"Yes, but they're apart," Ryan says. "If he wasn't over it in June he won't be over it now." He hands Simon his own plate.
"Fine, fine," Simon says, and they head back out to the garden.
Ryan sits with his plate and the little pitcher of sauce. "This is really great," Leslie says, "thank you Mr. Seacrest."
"Please, it's Ryan," he says, and then looks over to Simon. "What? What's the problem?"
"There's spinach on mine," Simon says.
"There's spinach on all of them," Ryan replies.
"But—"
"I don't want to hear it, Simon. Eat your greens, and don't try giving them to Colin, either."
Simon pours more hollandaise over his eggs and Ryan rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
"Do you have anything else to say?" Ryan asks.
Simon turns to Blake. "I'm sorry, Blake. I only meant to tease you, not remind you of anything painful."
"No, it's all right," Blake says.
"Good. By the way, Ryan, you owe me a tenner."
"Why?"
"Because they didn't know."
Ryan looks at Leslie and Blake. "How could they not know? How could you not know? I came out to both of you personally." Leslie and Blake nod. "That should have been enough—"
"Ryan, I keep telling you, students don't pay attention to us."
"—and you knew we were going to work at the same school—"
"So did our colleagues and they didn't think of it."
"—and Gina saw us leaving town together in the same car!"
"Well," Leslie says, "it just seemed improbable, I mean, Mr. Cowell—Simon, you're so much older."
"Tamyra did always say he's secretly nice," Blake says. "But we never believed her."
"I'm glad I have one fan," Simon says.
"What did you think was going on?" Ryan asks.
"Well," Leslie says. "that you're friends?"
"That you were getting a ride?" Blake asks.
"Does that make sense?" Ryan asks.
"Well, it is kinda convoluted," Blake admits.
"Simplest explanation is usually the truth," Ryan says. "That's the problem with conspiracy theories; they're too complicated."
"Yes, sir," Leslie says. "Wait, Ryan?"
"Mmm?"
"You aren't wearing your glasses. After you would make a point you would always push up your glasses, but you aren't wearing them."
Ryan grins a little, says, "I'm trying to wear contacts more. I still usually teach in glasses, though."
"I always liked the glasses," Simon says, "but obviously I have a thing for bookish nerds."
Ryan nods. "Penance for previous bad behavior," he says.
"Perhaps. But green eyes and boyish charm go further in raising money from older wealthy gay men."
"Wow, your eyes are awfully green," Leslie says.
"I've seen greener," Ryan says, looking at Blake.
Simon isn't sure what Ryan meant, but he's blushing again, which amuses Simon, so he goes on. "Last week he hosted an auction and got a record amount for Hetrick-Martin. He really has the touch with those donors. He's becoming quite the little A-lister; they want him to help raise money for GMHC too. He's going to leave me for some sugar daddy before long."
"Stop that, no I'm not."
"I'm older."
"You're not that much older, and you certainly don't act it."
Simon tips his head. "True."
"Plus you were already an A-lister, Simon. There were three separate parties given when we got back to town, only it was August, so they were all out on Fire Island."
"We should get a share next year," Simon says.
Leslie says, "Gosh, now I wonder how I didn't see it."
"No kidding," Blake says. "You're like, married or something."
Simon raises his eyebrows but Ryan just starts laughing, and Simon isn't sure he's ever seen Ryan look happier.
When he recovers, Ryan says, "Anyway, the record had as much to do with your story as anything I did."
"Oh, right," Simon says, turning to Blake. "I might have to apologize again; I'm afraid we've been using you."
"Using me?" Blake asks around a mouthful of home fries.
"Well, everyone, the whole year we had. It's a very powerful argument for the existence of the school. The donors can pat themselves on the back that it could never happen here—which, frankly, makes me wonder if they've ever been to an outer borough—while also recognizing that the cause is as important as any other. When they feel good about themselves, they give more. But Ryan's flirting does help."
"Well," Blake says, "I think—I think if something good can come out of it, then that's all right. And we're all okay, anyway, except Clay I guess."
"Clay is getting the help he needs," Ryan says. "But we should stop doing all the talking. So, tell me all about your classes, what are you taking?"
The kids do eventually answer Simon's questions, too—there's talk of clubbing, and concerts, and Simon can read minor drug use between the lines, but also music and literature and research and you-should-read-this-book. Ryan takes particular interest in Blake's sociology course as he's taken on all the social sciences as well as the humanities, and the kids are shocked again to hear that Simon is back to teaching maths. Lab sciences and arts are farmed out to NYU graduate students, but Ryan and Simon know Blake's music teacher, Anwar, very well as he also helps out at the school. After brunch there are egg tarts and tea, and a lot of playing with Colin, and the kids are there for a good four hours before they finally beg off to finish their weekend assignments, promising to return in another month or so.
Ryan settles down on the couch next to Simon, and Colin immediately hops up onto their laps, wriggling a little before settling down. "So, we're 'like, married or something.'"
"Looks like," Simon says.
"I thought you weren't the marrying sort."
Simon shrugs. "You won't be able to get any money out of me, so I suppose I'm not in much danger."
"Not in much danger of my leaving you, either," Ryan says.
"Well, there's that."
Ryan sighs. "Why do you pretend to be so unsentimental when you're the world's biggest sap?"
"Because you love it," he replies, grinning.
"Well, there's that," Ryan says, and kisses him.
fin
Notes:
Summary taken from Gilbert Blythe's proposal to Anne Shirley, in Anne of the Island. Colin and his squirrel are real, though their names have been changed.
Thank you so much to all of you who read this little series. I know for most of you reading Fast Times at Idol High Ryan and Simon aren't of interest in themselves, so that you read it at all is very special to me. Mr. Cowell and Mr. Seacrest will say their last goodbyes in the main story, but this is the end of the story I wanted to tell—of how and why and when they left, of how the events of that year changed them as well—and that part of their story is over now, so I leave the rest in the far more than capable hands of
lillijulianne.I'm already working on something else, something a little different, something my own though Ryan and Simon-centric, and if you follow me there, I'll be blessed. In the meantime, if you keep following what
lillijulianne is doing, you'll see something else of mine by and by.Thanks!