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Chapter Text

Ramwood Teacher AU

We’re both teachers and at the end of the year we compare how many gifts we’ve received from students and you’ve won for the past three years AU.

-

As the school around him fell quiet, Ryan relaxed for the first time in months. Finals were over, and the students had left for their summer break. For the first time since the start of the year, the school sounded entirely silent.

Ryan sat behind his desk in his classroom with a smile on his face, leant back and relaxed, just appreciating the silence.

Then there was a knock at the door. Ryan’s face fell and he looked up, only to meet eyes with Geoff Ramsey, the photography teacher. Although his quiet had been broken by Geoff’s loud greeting (Ayo!) and even louder tattoos, made visible because he’d ditched his suit jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves past his elbows, Ryan couldn’t help but smile softly as he entered the room, carrying bags.

“Come on, buddy! Contest time!”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Really? We do this every year.” he huffed, folding his arms as Geoff sat at one his students desks, rifling through his overflowing bag of gifts.

“You’re just whiny because the kids love to buy me gifts.”

“That’s not why I’m whiny.” Ryan pouted. “I just don’t understand why it always has to be a competition.” He sighed.

“Um, because you always lose- that’s why.” Geoff said. “Duh.”

Ryan groaned, but co-operated, as he had done for the past three years, and began pulling the gifts he had received from students from a small carrier bag under his desk. Quietly, he and Geoff sorted through their gifts, lining them up across the desk Geoff was sat at.

Geoff’s gifts were mainly similar, expensive bottles of liquor and fancy soaps, fancy polaroid film and luxury padded cards. Ryan’s were more simple, because he taught English to the lowerclassmen, so his gifts were mostly ‘Best Teacher Ever!’ mugs and slightly upmarket Walmart stationary.

The final total was Ryan: Eight, and Geoff: Twelve. Ryan sighed as Geoff cheered, kissing one of the bottles of Whiskey he received. “I knew I’d win! I could feel it in my balls!”

“Geoff.” Ryan grimaced at the crude expression. Geoff only laughed, and after a while, Ryan couldn’t help but snicker. “Alright, you won, again. Same time next year, I assume?” he asked.

“C’mon Ryan, it’s no fun if you don’t pretend to be upset!” Geoff pouted. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“I never pretend. It’s annoying that your kids like you more than they like me.” He folded his arms, like a stubborn child, pouting slightly. Geoff laughed.

“C’mon, don’t be a bitch. How about I make it up to you?” He asked. Ryan looked up at this, raising an eyebrow curiously. Sure, he and Geoff were good friends, great friends even… and sure, Geoff liked to make suggestive remarks and smirk when Ryan got flustered but… Ryan couldn’t read him, at that moment. Geoff was… difficult. He always had been.

Jack, the wood-shop teacher said it was because Geoff had a crush on Ryan. Ryan dismissed that comment as quickly as he dismissed any work below a C Grade from students that could easily do better.

No, Geoff was cool. Ryan was a nerd. In the Teachers Lounge hierarchy, Geoff was at the top, one half of the teaching staff fighting for his attention, the other half silently stewing in jealousy. Ryan was, unfortunately, the first kind. Even if he often didn't realise it, ninety percent of what he did and what he said in the company of the school faculty revolved around Geoff.

And he hated it.

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, stuttering slightly in a shoddy attempt at covering up his faint embarrassment. Geoff simply smirked, the same way he always did when he put Ryan in an uncomfortable situation; slight upward quirk of the lips, twitch of the moustache, lazy flick of the eyes.

“Well.” Geoff trace a circle with his finger on the desk where the gifts lay until his finger glided across the surface, latching onto the large, expensive looking bottle of dark liquor. “How about you come over to my place, and we can work our way through this bottle of whiskey?”

Ryan choked a little, trying to cover it with a poorly placed swallow. Geoff was staring at him with the intensity of a bull, smirk lazy, yet intense. Ryan could feel the blush creeping up his neck, as he struggled to maintain eye contact.

“I-uh, I don’t drink, you know that Geoff.” He managed to stutter out. Geoff shrugged casually, eyes not leaving Ryan’s.

“Alright, how about I drink all night, and you take care of me in the morning with…” his fingers danced across the table again, settling on a gold tipped glass jar. “This Italian coffee.”

“Uh, I…” Ryan could feel sweat pooling at his neck. “I-That… yeah… that could be… that could be arranged.”

As quick as the flick of a light switch, Geoff intense glare and smirk switched into a bright smile.

“Perfect.” He said, rounding his gifts up back into the bags he had brought in. “My place, eight o’clock?”

“Uh… sure, yeah.” Ryan stammered, cheeks red. Geoff simply shot him a wink, before leaving the room with a small bounce in his step. Ryan exhaled as he left, only just then realising how tense he had been.

Fuck…. Do I have a date with Geoff Ramsey?

Chapter Text

Raywood Bartender AU

You’re the bartender and you catch someone slipping something into my drink AU.

-

Ray wasn’t really much of a Bar fan. He didn't drink, didn't dance, didn't flirt, not well- anyway, and he generally wasn’t good in large social situations. But, Michael was his friend and his roommate, and had actually threatened Ray with a trip to the beach if he didn't agree to come out at least twice a month with their group of friends. Like ‘normal’ people apparently did.

Michael meant well, Ray knew that, but it didn't stop him from having a miserable time whilst all his friend got drunk and he sipped Dr Pepper at the bar. For the past twenty minutes, Michael had been arguing with Gavin over Mario Party (again) and Ray had been sitting, slumped at the bar, sipping his Dr Pepper and watching the bartender make drinks and serve people. This wasn’t the usual bar that Michael and all their friends frequented, so it was interesting seeing a new face.

This guy was downright dreamy, blondeish hair framing his face, toned, yet soft body, clear under a black t-shirt, blue eyes, lazy smile. Not Ray’s usual type, mainly because hot guys like that didn't go for skinny video game nerds like Ray.

Realising his silent admiration was becoming creepy, as he had no intention of taking his relationship with the stranger any further; Ray turned away from the bar and tried to become immersed in Michael and Gavin's conversation.

“But Michael, the bonus stars change the entire game! It doesn’t matter how well or how shit you do for the entire time, the bonus stars change it anyway! So what's the point in trying to win in the beginning anyway?!”

“Gavin, you’re literally being so fucking dumb right now! If you try really hard and play smart, and get fucking five stars in the game, it doesn’t matter what bonus starts there are, you still fucking win, and-”

“-When was the last time you got five bloody stars in a game anyway?”

Ray groaned silently, rolling his eyes and turning back to the bar. Anything was better than listening to that; even creepy staring at hot bartenders.

Sighing, Ray reached for his drink.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

Ray flinched, looking up to see the bartender, standing in front of him, wiping a glass. Ray frowned, only momentarily distracted by the man’s fucking fantastic voice.

“Why?” he asked.

“See that guy over there?” The bartender pointed to a guy in a grey shirt, making his way through the crowd, away from the bar. “He just spiked your drink.”

“He did what!” Ray stared at the drink, before placing it back down on the bar, ripping his hand away from the glass like it had burned him. He twisted, trying to spot the guy again, but he had disappeared within the crowd.

“Don’t worry, it’s already being taken care of.” The bartender nodded over to the exit, where the guy was behind held with his hands behind his back by the club bouncer. Ray breathed a sigh of relief, and the bartender began wiping at the surface of the bar. “I’m Ryan.” he said, looking up. “What’s your name?”

Ray was lost, staring into Ryan’s eyes. They were just so blue, dark yet light at the same time, he’d never seen anything quite like it.

“Uh-”

“-Shit, sorry! Ray, my-my names Ray.”

Ryan the bartender smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ray. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no- I’m good.” Ray nodded, making one last glance at the exit. The man was nowhere to be seen. “You guys are pretty… uh, efficient here.”

“As soon as I saw it, I flagged it.” Ryan shrugged. “Can’t let someone as cute as you get taken advantage of, can I?” he added, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Ray blushed. “Who says I’m cute?” he asked, before mentally kicking himself, for asking such a strange question. Thankfully, Ryan didn't seem too taken aback.

“I do.” he replied, cool as ever. Ray’s heart began to beat quicker.

“Oh…right? Well… what if I wasn’t cute then? You would’ve just let me fucking… fend for myself then?”

“Well… that would be impossible.” Ryan said, words as smooth as his voice. “But, even if you weren’t cute, I still would’ve helped you out, because I’m a decent fucking human being.” He chuckled to himself, making Ray smile. “Now, let me get you another drink.”

Ray swallowed once, sitting up slightly. This Ryan guy was smooth as fuck, hot as fuck, and for some insane reason, had clearly taken an interest in him. He needed to step his flirting game up, majorly.

“It better be on the house.” He said, trying his best to keep his voice level and not pitchy, like a teenage boy getting his first fucking boob.

“Even better, I'll buy it for you.” Ryan said, eyes lighting up as he smirked, only making the blush on Ray’s face deeper. He was immediately thankful that the bar was reasonably dark.

“What’re you having?”

“Dr Pepper.” At Ryan’s raised eyebrow, Ray explained, “I don’t drink. Personal choice type thing, not horrible experience or past addiction.”

“Cool. Same with me.” Ryan poured the drink and handed it to Ray, who was looking at him strangely.

“Seriously?” Ray asked. “But you work in a bar?!”

“So?”

“So… what, you know all about making drinks and shit, but you never actually drink them? What's up with that? That’s weird!”

“I know how to make pipe-bombs, doesn’t mean I use them. Same difference.” Ryan shrugged.

“That is not the same difference.” Ray laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

They continued talking for the rest of the night, between Ryan serving drinks to the remaining customers. Even still, every time he left, he’d make his way back to Ray, eager to become immersed back in whatever story either one of them were telling. Ray made his way through two more drinks, but Ryan insisted he didn't pay for any of them.

“Consider it compensation.” He said.

Eventually the bar was closing, and Michael was drunk enough to forgive Gavin for their earlier dispute. The two had their arms slung round each other, and were hobbling towards the exit, Michael calling for Ray to come with them.

“Yeah, I better go.” Ray said, watching his friends struggle across the dancefloor. “They’re way too drunk to be trusted in an Uber cab alone.”

“Right, yeah.” Ryan nodded, picking Ray’s empty glasses of the table and putting them away underneath the bar. “I had… a good time tonight though, talking to you.”

Ray grinned. “Me too, uh, here.” He reached forwards, picking up a pen that was laying behind the bar. He grabbed Ryan’s arm, and wrote his number across his wrist. “Call me?”

Ryan’s smile matched his. “Yeah.” he said. “I'll do that.”

Chapter Text

You run in looking really panicked and you ask for six gallons of milk, why? AU

Most children inherited money from their parents. Or jewellery or houses… sometimes even businesses. Family businesses, like bars or restaurants or woodwork shops.

Ray had apparently pissed someone off really badly in a past life, because he inherited a corner store from his uncle. It sat on the outskirts of New York City, rather than in the centre, so it was hardly ever busy, nor interesting. Ray saw pretty much the same five people every day, a handful of new faces and some school kids. The rest of the day, he spent sitting up at the desk, flicking through countless magazines and wishing he was somewhere, anywhere else.

It was a Friday, and especially uneventful Friday because the construction workers building the new apartments across the road were on strike, so Ray’s business went down about twelve customers. He’d only actually seen around ten people so far, and it was already midday.

Ray huffed, and took a bite out of the chocolate bar he had taken off the display. It was probably going to be a really, really slow day.

He sat alone, with his chocolate bar, eating through the silence with a trashy magazine as his only company, until a few moments later, the bell rang and a man ran in. The man had dirty blonde hair, a manic look on his face and his arms outstretched as he skidded to a stop in front of Ray’s desk.

“Give me your milk!” he shouted.

“What?”

“I- Sorry, that sounded weird. That sounded really weird, didn't it? I didn't mean- I… it’s nothing, sorry.” The guy shook his head as he rambled, clearly flustered. Ray’s own expression was alike to a deer in headlights, or a startled rabbit- wide, glossy eyes, back straight and upright, magazine page still held between his thumb and forefinger, halfway through being turned.

“So… you want milk?” he finally asked.

“Yes.” The mysterious man nodded. “I need milk, lots of it- where do you, uh, where do you keep your… milk?” at that, he looked up at Ray for the first time. Ray’s words caught in the back of his throat, because what the fuck this psycho was hot. Now that he wasn’t screaming about milk, Ray could see his face. He had blue eyes, and a faint five o’clock shadow. His chest was heaving from within the constraints of his navy t-shirt, arms clearly defined and shapely, but not to an extreme level.

He was exactly the kind of guy Ray jerked off to when he was alone in his apartment; which was more often than he’d like to admit.

“Right… right around that corner.” Ray said, pointing in a somewhat vague direction of the store. The man nodded, and followed the directions.

The man emerged several minutes later with around twenty full litre bottles of milk in total, which he stacked up on Ray’s desk.

“I feel like I should probably explain what all of this is for, as its probably coming across weird.”

“No that’s cool.” Ray said with a shrug, scanning the bottles. “It’s super weird, but you’re kind of hot so… I'll allow it.” He spoke before thinking, regretting the words as soon as they came out. After that, there was a silent pause where Ray clamped his mouth shut and hoped that his blush wasn’t visible.

“You think I’m hot?” the guy finally spoke. There was no turning back now, Ray thought. Now, in the interaction between him, the shopkeeper, and the guy who had run into the store and demanded milk, Ray was the fucking weirdo.

“Yep.” He admitted, nodding slightly, not once tearing his eyes off the milk that he was scanning. “That’s gonna be thirty one dollars and seventy two cents.”

The guy didn't say anything else, just pulled out his wallet and placed thirty five dollars on the counter. “Keep the change.” He said, with an odd sort of smirk as he placed a white business card on top of the notes, and collected his bags. “Call me sometime.” He added, before walking out of the store.

Ray looked down at his desk, picking up the business card. He turned it over, and read the inscription.

Ryan Haywood

Dairy Supplier for Haywood Farms and Mercantile

555-0125

Chapter Text

It was one of those unpredictable days in the Achievement Hunter office. It was pretty much empty, because Geoff was in a meeting and Jack was in Australia, Ray was out sick and Ryan was on the patch. That just left Michael and Gavin inside, quietly editing videos.

Michael had been distracted from his Rage Quit video for the past ten minutes, because he had just been watching Gavin. The Brit had barely moved since sitting down, head resting in his hands as he stared down at his desk, body hunched over. The scene made worry tug in Michael’s stomach, and after Gavin didn't immediately bounce back, as he often did, he sighed, exited his file and turned in his chair.

“You okay Gav?” he asked, softly. Gavin didn't look up, just shrugged in place. This made Michael more worried, and a frown crossed over his face. He scooted forwards so he was next to Gavin, and placed his hand on Gavin’s arm. “Gav? What’s up?”

Gavin sat up, looking over to Michael. His eyes were dull, and a little shiny. “I-I don’t know. Just one of them shit days, isn’t it?” he said.

“Well I know nobody’s really here at the moment, but it’s taken more than that to get you down before Gav, so what’s up?”

Gavin sighed and shrugged. “I-I just feel like shit, you know? Feel like I look like shit, sound like shit, act like shit. Why do you lot bother putting up with me anyway?” Michael held Gavin’s watery gaze intently, too shocked to really say anything, so Gavin continued. “Especially you, Michael.” He said with a soft smile. “Always so lovely to me.”

“Gav-I, we put up with you because we fucking love you, man! You’re awesome… and you’re fucking smart as shit- and you’re funny… you make the let’s play’s like a thousand times better. You keep everyone positive and you make everyone laugh. You’re great, alright? Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Gavin’s face shifted into a small, knowing smile. Michael’s pale cheeks flushed pink, knowing he’d already said way too much. “You love me, Michael?” he asked.

Michael’s skin went from pink to scarlet in a second. “I-well… I didn’t say- I meant that… that Geoff- and everyone… and… uh…” he stopped himself from rambling anymore, and hung his head, smiling into the ground at his own ability to let everything slip when Gavin was around. He looked back up at the Brit, who was still grinning. “Yeah, alright. I fucking love you or whatever.”

“Michael!” Gain squealed. Michael could barely pretend to be annoyed as Gavin lurched forwards, pulling Michael in a tight embrace.

“Thanks for the pity cuddle.” Michael laughed, hugging Gavin back tightly. After he spoke, Gavin leant back, staring at him with a confused expression on his face. “Oh, what fucking now?” he asked.

“Pity cuddle? No, no, no- you dope! I love you too!”

“What!?”

“Oh. Come on Michael! I’ve had a bloody crush you for ages, haven’t I?” he said flippantly. Michael’s mouth hung open.

“What? Really? Fucking… you like me?”

“Well… yeah.” Gavin shrugged. “Because you’re my boi, aren’t you? And you’re cute, and nice and… you know how to make me feel happy. Of course I like you!”

“Well thats fucking good to know, I guess!” Michael replied, unable to wipe the grin from his face. “Do you… uh- I don’t know, wanna like go out? Sometime?”

Gavin grinned. “Yeah. Yeah I do actually.”

Michael nodded, unsure what else to say. “Cool.” He settled on, internally stabbing himself for sounding like such a dork. The room fell silent again, and reluctantly, Michael turned back to his monitor. After a few minutes, Gavin was calling his name again.

“Um… Michael?”

“Yeah, Gav?”

“I er- I know we haven’t been out on a date or anything yet… and you don’t have to say yes, not if you don’t want to, um-”

“Gav, fucking spit it out.”

Gavin blushed. “Right- yeah… sorry. Just… do you… I guess- would it, uh, be alright, maybe if I could maybe kiss you? You don’t have to say yes… or anything, I mean, I sh-”

“-Gav.” Michael cut him off, scooting forwards again and grabbing Gavin’s hands in his. “Of course you can fucking kiss me, you idiot.”

Gavin smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. Fucking get on with it, before I change my mind.”

Gavin leant forwards and cautiously pressed his lips against Michael’s. He was beyond nervous, and hesitant- which was understandable considering he was kissing his best friend inside their office, but Michael didn't pull back or laugh in his face. He held onto Gavin’s hands tightly, pulling him down further, and pressed back into the kiss against Gavin.

This gave Gavin time to relax and get more into it, he knew how to kiss for Christs sake! Just, something about Michael made butterflies swirl in his stomach, and he suddenly felt like a nervous schoolboy getting his first brush of lips with someone else.

The two continued to kiss, small soft sounds filling the room, until they heard the door creak open. The two sprang back from each other, both wearing matching heated expressions and blushes. Geoff and Ryan had stepped through the doors, holding coffee and staring suspiciously at the two.

“Uh… were we interrupting something?” Ryan asked. Both Michael and Gavin said nothing, shaking their heads and refused to look at each other. Geoff was behind Ryan, a lot less hesitant and a lot more knowing. He just smirked, pushed past Ryan into the office, and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, course we fucking didn't. Please, continue- don’t let us stop you.”

“Geoff!” Gavin squeaked, making Michael burst into loud laughter. The only one in the room who seemed confused was Ryan, who was giving the three of them odd looks as he sat down by his desk.

“Am I missing something here, or…?”

“Yep.” Geoff nodded. “You are absolutely missing something.”

“Right. Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

Chapter Text

When Ray’s building got condemned for the week to be fumigated, for some reason, the first person he called was Ryan. It was weird, because his go to call for help was always Michael, his oldest friend, or Geoff, his boss. But he and Ryan had kind of been growing closer in the past few months, and Ray had to admit, he did sort of have a little, tiny crush on the guy. But that wasn’t important, because there was Ryan, right on cue, rolling up in his car and stopping next to Ray, who was stood at the pavement clutching his backpack, his Xbox and his DS like some kind of homeless teenager.

“Hitchhiking?” Ryan leant out the window and asked with a sarcastic grin. Ray rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, asshole.”

Ryan was more than happy to hold Ray up for a few days whilst his building was fumigated, in fact, he was damn fucking exited, rushing around his own tiny apartment, showing Ray his bathroom and his kitchen and anything he might need. Ray took it all in silently, occasionally nodding but never asking any questions.

Eventually, Ryan was showing him where he could dump his stuff in the main room, when Ray noticed a flaw, in Ryan’s apartment.

“Dude, where’s your couch?”

“What?”

“Your couch? Are you telling me you don’t have a fucking couch?!”

“Oh! Yeah, no I have one… it’s just really old and pretty badly broken. I had to throw it out last week, I haven’t got a new one yet.”

“Oh okay…”

“Why?”

“Just- where the fuck am I going o sleep?”

Ryan froze. “Oh… I now see the problem.” He said. Ray, thankfully, only laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Fucking idiot.” Ryan only gave an embarrassed smile apologizing with pink creeping up on his cheeks. Ray just shrugged, he wasn’t that bothered by it- although Ryan’s embarrassed expression was making him want to turn into a thirteen year old dealing with his first crush.

“No, it’s fine… I guess I'll crash on the floor or something, no big deal.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Ray.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Just take my bed, it’s fine.”

“I’m not putting you out of your fucking bed, dude-”

“-You’re the guest, it’s fine!”

“-It’s your  fucking bed!”

The argument went on and on, until Ray found himself lying flat on his back, on the left side of Ryan’s bed, whilst Ryan was lying on the right. Both were silent, laid flat and staring up at the ceiling.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” Ray asked.

“A little.” Ryan shrugged.

“I can go stay with Michael if-”

“-No, it’s fine. It’s… it’s just sleeping, right? Like a sleepover, I guess.”

“We’re a little old for sleepovers, Ryan. But I guess you’re right. It’s just sleeping, we should just suck it up and stop being pussies.” Ray shrugged, as he felt Ryan shift awkwardly beside him.

“Okay.”

The two fell silent, both lying in a mutual, conscious state. Ray heart was beating so rapidly, he was worried that Ryan could hear it. Just a few hours ago, he was happy to be crashing on Ryan’s couch for a night or two until he could go home. Now, he was laid next to him in bed, unsure how to act next.

“I still can’t sleep.” Ryan said, breaking the silence. Ray let out a long, relieved breath that mirrored Ryan’s own anxiety.

“Same. This is weird.” He admitted.

“I don’t know, do you wanna fucking cuddle or something?” Ryan asked. Ray sat up slightly so he could look at Ryan, surprised.

“Really?”

Ryan sighed. “Why the fuck not, we’ve come this far, I suppose.”

“Uh…” Ray blushed. “I-I guess. What’s a little cuddling between co-workers, right?”

“Exactly.” Ryan said. Ray was still for another few seconds, so Ryan chose to make the first move by rolling over on his side, pressing Ray against his chest. Ray turned so his back was against Ryan, and the elder’s arms came and snaked around his waist.

“This is an improvement.” Ryan said. Ray was thankful his back was to Ryan, as his face was burning .

“Damn fucking right it is.” He said, trying to ease the situation with some light humour. “Is this the part where I reveal I’ve actually wanted to fuck all along?”

He felt Ryan exhale behind him, but the gent didn't move, face gently pressing against the back of Ray’s head. “Really?” he asked. “Or are you kidding?”

Ray froze. “Uh… depends on your reaction.” He said, immediately regretting his shoddy attempt at comedy. There was a pause before Ryan spoke, where Ray’s heart rate spiked again. With Ryan in such close proximity to him, there was no way he wasn’t going to notice the rapid thumping in Ray’s chest.

“What if I said yes?”

Ray eyes widened, and he shifted , turning around in Ryan’s arms so he could face him. There was no way he was having this conversation with his back turned. Ryan’s expression was sleepy, but his eyes were cracked open, watching Ray’s intently like a hawk.

“Really? Or are you kidding?” Ray asked, uncertainty still resting in his gut.

“Depends on your reaction.”

Ray just laid there for a few seconds, staring up at Ryan’s face. He was waiting for the smile or the smirk, the joke to be cracked. Ryan was always that guy, waiting or the right moment before he revealed he was kidding all along, he hadn’t really burnt up Gavin diamond sword, and he was ready to give it back.

But the joke never came, and Ray couldn’t stop himself from lurching forwards, pressing his mouth against Ryan’s in a hurried daze. Ryan met him with equal energy, hands grabbing handfuls of hip and thigh, pulling Ray physically on top of him. Ray’s hands were tangled in Ryan’s hair as he drew back, barely, catching his breath. One string of saliva connected the two, and Ray couldn’t help but laugh.

“Gross.”

“The kissing or the saliva?”

“Obviously the saliva, come on dude- you’re a pretty good kisser.”

Ryan didn't bother to reply to that, just leant up again, and reconnected their mouths. “Yep.” He mumbled, as Ray moved to explore the expanse of his neck with his lips. “Sharing a bed was definitely a good idea.”

“Is your couch even broken?” Ray asked with a laugh. “Or was it all an elaborate ruse to get into my pants?”

“No, my couch really is broken. Fate did the rest.”

“Fucking sap.”

“Stop insulting me!”

“Just kiss me, again.”

Ryan smiled. “I can do that.”

Chapter Text

Being an artist, Ryan had learnt, was shit.

Poor pay, little work, hours of labor for minimal reward was Ryan’s life, but he carried on because he was doing what he loved. And also, art and video games were the only things he was actually any good at, and it wasn’t like he was going to find a job paying him to do the latter, right?

His most recent commission, a sketch of some banker and his wife, had been making his brain physically hurt the more he had stared at it, noticing every imperfection, and he was done looking at it for another day. He had packed up his sketchbook and headed out to the park, a few blocks away from his apartment.

The park, for Ryan, was his home away from home. He had chased his art career to Austin, and was originally from Georgia, where the only work he was getting was peach-themed logos and sketches of Jesus Christ, Out Lord and Saviour. Still, he missed Georgia, and his family and the wide open spaces that he had grown up in.

So the park was nice, and made him relax. He pulled out his sketchbook as he sat down on a nearby bench and did a few rough sketches of some nearby foliage before he grew bored again and allowed his eyes to wander.

Drawing people was his forte, so his eyes skimmed across the faces in the park, seeking inspiration. There were little kids playing with their parents, teenagers hanging out in clusters and adults with their dogs, but nobody particularly awe inspiring. Ryan sighed, glancing back down at his quickly filling sketchbook.

C’mon world…he silently pleaded. Inspire me.

He looked up, and froze as his eyes fell on a guy. He was sitting on a bench opposite him beneath a tree, knees curled up to his chest and Nintendo DS clamped in his hands. His skin was tanned, but in a way that suggested Hispanic heritage, not a recent vacation to somewhere warm. He wore thick rimmed black glasses and had dark stubble covering the lower half of his face.

He was small and skinny, all long fingers and short, hairy limbs, easily visible through his polo shirt and cargo shorts. He looked like he was in some kind of store uniform, but nowhere too strict, considering he was wearing black and white checker-board printed vans.

His face was screwed up in concentration as he stared down at his handheld, fingers dancing over the buttons. Whatever game he was playing, he was clearly skilled at it.

He was exactly Ryan’s type, and before he had another thought, he was sketching.

Ray noticed the guy across the park staring at him from the moment his Tetris game ended. He’d been so submerged in the world of shapes, that he hadn’t noticed at first. Once he lost, however, the blue eyes flickering between him and a notebook were impossible to miss.

Ray had half a mind to get up and storm over to the guy. What, did he think he could randomly draw people in the park without asking first? And why Ray, of all people? In his eyes, he was nothing more than a slightly below average looking skinny Hispanic dude. He had literally nothing going for him, so what was this guy’s ulterior motive?

But, just as he was about to stand up, the guy from across the park caught eyes with him, and Ray was paralyzed. He’d never seen someone with eyes so blue before. The guy was looking at him so inquisitively, like he was trying to study every detail on Ray’s face and translate it to paper. Once he had realised Ray ad caught him staring, a light blush settled onto his cheeks, and he snapped his sketchbook up.

Ray hesitated for a moment, before he got up and began walking over.

“Hey.”

“Um… hi.”

Ray sat down onto the empty half of the bench, awkwardly resting his hands on his lap. Why did he think this was a good idea again? The other guy looked about as mortified as Ray felt, but fuck it- it was too late to back out now.

“Did… did you want to see?”

For a second, Ray had completely forgotten the entire context of the conversation as he stared into the mystery man’s eyes.

“See what?”

“The drawing…?”

“Oh, shit- yeah…” Ray nodded. Still blushing, the guy began leafing through his sketchbook, past probably hundreds of other drawings, until the book fell on a page. There were some small drawings of flowers and trees on one side of the page, some detailed and some simply unfinished sketches, and next to them, was Ray, curled up on the bench and playing on his DS.

Ray’s eyes widened at the extraordinary amount of detail and care taken into the drawing. He swallowed.

“You- you made me look beautiful.”

“Well- you are.” The guy said, dragging Ray’s attention away from the picture and up to his face. It was Ray’s turn to blush then, as the guy refused to make eye contact, awkwardly fiddling with the corner of the page.

“I’m…I’m Ray, by the way.”

“Ryan. Sorry for… drawing you, I guess?”

“Don’t be,” Ray smiled. “I-I love it. It’s amazing… you’re really talented.”

Finally, Ryan could look at him again. “Thank you.” he said. “Ray. Nice name. Suits you.”

Ray grinned. “Thanks.” He said. Ryan didn't reply, just carried on staring with a soft smile on his face. Ray couldn’t tear his eyes away, and the two sat, locked in eye contact for what could’ve been an eternity, until Ray’s phone beeped.

“Shit.” Ray grabbed his phone, noticing the time and a text, which read Michael: LATE FOR WORK, ASSHOLE. “I’m late for work.” He made a vague gesture to the GameStop badge on his shirt. “My manager will kill me, but… here” he held his phone out. “Do you think I could like… call you, sometime?”

“Yeah! sure!” Ryan took Ray’s phone, quickly typing his number in. “Thanks for not yelling at me for drawing you. you just… drew my eye I guess.”

Ray grinned. “Thank you, dude. I'll, uh, call you later?” he asked, standing up.

“What time does your shift finish?”

“Six.”

Ryan smiled. “I'll be waiting.”