Pairing: Gary/Ryan, as per usual
Summary: The brothers visit their parents' house, the twins with guilty consciences.
Rating: More about atmosphere than action. No rating.
Lips stained with coffee and his girlfriend’s perfume, Gary sat in the farthest corner of the little sitting room. After dinner at their parents’ house. All eyes on their future and the fulfilment of all their dreams as children.
Ryan felt that Ross was talking more than usual. Ross usually ended up in the background during conversations, even at home, but today it was different and he was full to bursting with Johnny Marr anecdotes and snippets of conversation. He was animated, sitting forward in his comfy, well-worn armchair.
Gary stayed broodingly silent. Ryan could feel his twin’s eyes boring into his shoulder, his cheek, his lips, but he couldn’t say a thing because he knew he’d say something which gave them away. He wasn’t level-headed like Gary, he was prone to spasms of passion.
Maybe like the one last night.
A quaint little clock ticked by on the mantelpiece. It was a very civil hour, and a very civil room where they were seated: their childhood home, but aged somewhat, the very eighties décor wearing thin in its old age – white paint yellowing to match the once bright eyes of their parents. Curtains drawn to shut out the fading light, dim lamps tinting everything beige.
Ryan glanced over to Gary. His dark brown eyes, intense and heavy, still stared back at him. They really were very attractive eyes. If he were a woman, those eyes would have hooked him long ago. A perfect shape too, almond and perfectly set under his low brow.
Was Ross still talking? His parents seemed engrossed in their younger son’s ramblings. Maybe a few too many cups of tea had lulled them into submission.
Gary looked down at his coffee. He swirled the dregs around.
“Ryan, how’s that Kate of yours?” His mum asked. She liked Kate. Who didn’t like Kate? She was a lovely girlfriend. Ryan glanced back at Gary.
“Oh, she’s alright, you know. She’s on tour at the moment.”
“The age old problem with two musicians.” His dad commented, his Wakefield accent stronger than ever.
“Do you get lonely while she’s away?” A husky voice enquired. The sudden comment from Gary took them all by surprise; it was like a fire throwing another lick of flame into the air after everyone had thought it was exhausted.
It was a lick of flame which burnt Ryan. Ryan turned to look at his brother, who was staring back at him with hard, knowing eyes. “Yeah. Sometimes, yeah, but it’s okay.”
“Oh.” Gary said, filling the syllable with ambiguous emotion, and then returned his gaze to the dregs of his coffee.
Ross started talking again and the clock resumed its perpetual lifeless ticking.
Ryan looked at Gary’s hands. Yesterday, those hands had been touching his skin. How had it happened? Maybe he’d got lonely. Maybe something else. Shit. The recent memories threatened to reshape his facial features as his little brother talked and talked. Gary’s lips brushing against his own, chapped and dry, Gary’s rough voice in his ear, a million miles away now. His own hands…where were they? Did he even want to remember? The confines of the tourbus, the soft pillow on Gary's bed which he really shouldn't have been touching, the warmth of skin on skin.
A kiss. More. Too far. Much too far.
Sometimes brotherly love got mixed up.
That would be all it was. Surely.
Gary smiled an introverted smile into the bottom of his coffee cup.