Pictures on Silence

It was one of those mornings that the instant I rose from unconsciousness, I knew I didn't want to move for another five hours. Bleary-eyed, I lifted my head to search for the illuminated pixels of the clock. 4:57 in radioactive red. Not the usual neon green, but whatever; too early to think about getting up.

So I turned over and snuggled into the warmth of the sheets. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes again and thought vaguely how good the world smelled today before sinking into oblivion once again.

The next time I woke up, it was from a rather harrowing dream about man-eating cucumbers, the kind you have to keep your eyes wide open to keep from slipping back into it. Only I had more than enough reason not to fall asleep again.

Ryan was slumbering peacefully not three inches from me, and after a moment, a smile filled my whole body. I just stared at him for a while, drinking in the image of the situation at hand until I realized how ridiculously creepy it was and how awkward it would be if he woke up.

I turned my head as far as I could to look at the clock. 8:15 was far more reasonable. When I settled back into my place, Ryan's arms tightened around me and he let out a yawn. It fell and his eyelids peeled back slowly.

"H'lo," I whispered, smiling. He smiled hazily, gave a long blink, and smashed our lips together. He tangled his fingers in my hair, sending violent tremors through my whole body. Coming into mywrong right mind, I pulled away. "I need a shower."

"No you don't," he argued sleepily, holding onto me as I threw back the covers. "Stay here and keep me company."

I laughed and loosed his fingers from my waist. Ryan pulled a sad face, and I very almost crawled back into bed at how utterly, irresistibly cute it was. Except that my insides were still shaking. "You go back to sleep," I advised, kissing his cheekbone. Not seconds later, he'd take my words to heart.

Singing under my breath, I gathered up some clothes and navigated my way to the bathroom. Making sure to lock the door, I turned the faucets, got undressed, and slipped into the shower. Hmm, double shower heads, I noticed mildly. It wasn't until I was massaging shampoo into my scalp that the words 'morning boner' slipped into my head, and I couldn't stop laughing uncontrollably for the next fifteen minutes.

I have the sexual maturity of a stoned muppet. Sue me.

Upon returning to Ryan's room, I shoved my sleeping clothes into my bag and sauntered over to the bed, where Ryan had taken it upon himself to sprawl out across the whole bed. I didn't even bother suppressing my amusement at an entire limb hanging out from the covers off the side of the bed.

I crawled up to the pillow and propped my head up with an arm. "I suppose I should be getting up now," he grumbled after a moment, eyes still closed. A fit of giggles threatened to seize me again, so I limited myself to a nod. Ryan made a displeased noise, rubbed his eyes, and looked at me. He pulled me closer and ran his fingers through my wet hair. "Will you be here when I get back?"

"Where would I go?" I asked in rhetorical incredulity.

Ryan shrugged and laboriously got to his feet. "Knowing you, anywhere. I could be gone for twenty minutes and you'd be across town." He grinned over his shoulder, sifting through his drawers. "You're a tricky, devious little thing."

"Why, thank you." I beamed, and his laughter tracked him down the hall.

I stayed on the bed for a few minutes, not moving, considering my options. Either I could be lazy and stay here until Ryan got back and figure something out from there, or I could get up and find something to do without him. I'd feel bad just wandering around his house though.

Plus I might get lost. I hated getting lost, but internal compasses don't work inside houses. Or hospitals. Eek.

A faint voice drifted into the silence and I strained to listen. I jumped to the floor and quietly walked to the hall; I grinned at the watery tenor singing Tom Waits. Leaning against the wall, I listened for a few minutes before he stopped and I scurried downstairs.

Kitchen, I thought, looking around. Kitchen means food, and food means the possibility of pancakes. Instantly I started searching through all the cupboards and refrigerator.

Humming, I mixed up the batter in the big ceramic bowl and glanced at the waffle iron on the stove. Suddenly, I changed songs and affected a brogue. "~Well I fell into prison about a quarter t' t'ree~," I sang, smiling, "~And I found in me cell a glass waitin' f'r me. So I filled what was empty, and I pulled up a stool, but 'e stood in the corner. The ol' devil wouldn' move.~"

I twirled around and poured more batter onto the black surface. "~He said, ye drink when yer lonely. No, I drink when I want! He said, yell never be sober. Sure, why would I want dat? I only drink t' be merry, but unfortunately...~" I paused in flipping to hold out the note. "~I'm in the wrong prison cell an' the wrong company...~"

"You could probably make good money doing voiceovers." I started and almost dropped the spatula. Stiffening, I tossed Ryan a glare and intently watched the pancakes bubble. He wrapped his arms around my middle and laid his chin on my shoulder. "Didn't mean to scare you," he apologised, obviously smiling.

"You couldn't scare a three-year-old with a Freddie Crougar mask," I retorted dryly, still watching the pancakes.

I bit down on the inside of my lip and gripped the spatula tighter when Ryan planted a long, slow kiss on the side of my neck. "Really?" he whispered in my ear.

The inside of my head was screaming, half because his challenge was right, half because he was touching me, half because I just wanted some freakin' pancakes. Three halves. Yes. "I made pancakes," I wavered, changing the subject.

"Because you're the best girlfriend ever." Ryan grabbed one from the stack and stuffed half of it into his mouth, not bothering to let me go. Just chewed right there on my shoulder. I decided that he was deliberately psyching me out, giving me a reason to put up defences, and went about cleaning up. Ryan made that harder, still not letting me go; he didn't until I threatened to pour the entire bottle of maple syrup on his head.

Maple syrup is Ryan's hair's kryptonite.

"So do you want to have a serious conversation now or later?" he asked before sipping his coffee. "It's coming either way."

"Later," I reposted simply. "Solemnity is more of a late-night thing. The brain percolates better after dark, though it is more likely to cause worldly discontent." A glint showed in Ryan's eye, but he said nothing and we ate in comfortable silence.

I looked out the window upon finishing my breakfast and sat up straighter. "You have a pool."

"Very observant," he said dryly, pouring syrup on another stack of pancakes.

"Funny, I don't remember waking up next to Grouchy Smurf this morning," I asserted with narrow eyes. He smiled quirkily. "Shut up, I've been here once." Ryan picked up my plate and his, and crossed the floor to sink. "So what d'you wanna do today?"

He shrugged. "I don't care. We could just hang out here." I looked around the room and raised my eyebrows at him. "...Or do coupley things, I guess. There's a minigolf place about ten minutes away... ice skating... movies... paintball..."

I jumped up. "Paintball!" I shouted excitedly, and then proceeded to dance around like... me dancing around. Sorry, I'm out of similes. Ryan laughed and grabbed me, making me stop. "Hmm. Maybe we should call Bren and Spence. I'd like to see all of you splattered in neon paint." I eyed him. "I think highlighter yellow would look fantastic on you."

Ryan laughed. "What's with covering me in sticky substances this morning? Are you trying to tell me something?" When I shot him a guarded look, he swooped in for a kiss and announced that he was going to call Brendon.

Once he was out of sight, I slid down to the floor and stared blankly at the linoleum. Swallowing hard, I unknit my brow and took a deep breath. I both reproached and soothed myself in my head; now was not the time for a breakdown. Especially one caused by...

Well. Maybe it's best I not think about it.

~Brendon~

"Took you long enough," Spencer griped as Ryan and Angie strolled up. Huh. I always thought they'd be the holding-hands type. But whatever. She's probably overcompensating for any weirdness, I decided as I watched her screw up Spencer's hair.

The four of us walked up to the booth and paid for an hour and a bucket of paint balloons each. "Wait until we have jumpsuits on," Ryan admonished Angie, fingering a sphere of neon pink with an evil glint in her eye. With a theatrical sigh, she dropped it back into her bucket and strode off to the women's changing room.

"Okay, this is the last I'm gonna say about this," Spence said as we were pulling the white jumpsuits on over our clothes. "But you and Angie are absolutely the weirdest couple ever."

Ryan shot him a bemused look. "What makes you say that?"

I pulled the zipper up my chest and searched around for my goggles. "He's kind of right, man," I admitted, "Considering you went out officially last night. I mean, I'm guessing yesterday was your 'omg let's make out constantly' stage." He rolled his eyes and adjusted the strap of his goggles. 'And now you're at the 'it's cool to hang out with friends without it being awkward' stage. I know we've known her for seven months, but don't you think you're taking it a bit quickly?"

"You both are being ridiculous," he stated after a moment.

"We're not saying it's a bad thing," Spencer put in quickly, walking outside.

We followed him leisurely. "But you know how she is," I reminded. "She has that front for the outside world, but Angie's really a dams--" I stopped short when something hit me in the chest and splattered everywhere. "Ow, motherf-- Angie!"

A devious grin sparkled beneath her goggles. "You guys are slow," she laughed, knocking the braid off her shoulder.

I pulled an orb out of my bucket and Angie set off running. Ryan clapped me on the shoulder and blue paint exploded into existence as he sprinted away, laughing. "Dammit! No tagteaming!"

"You suck," Ryan glowered at his girlfriend (Man, that was weird saying) when she sauntered up. Giggling and covered in paint, Angie shrugged nonchalantly. He sneered up at his neon pink-splattered hair.

"Good shot, though," I said, nudging some red off my face.

"Maybe too good," Spencer added, wiping his neck, which was completely yellow.

Angie grinned and walked with us out to the parking lot. Ryan poked her side, and she whined and slapped his hand. "You got me back!" she protested, pointing to her own head, now a multitude of colours besides her usual auburn.

"I know, but making you make sexy noises is fun," he explained, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She rolled her eyes, covering the nervous glaze in her expression. "I vote we go swimming. What do you lot say?"

"I should probably go home," Spencer said, looking at his watch. "Haley said she'd call about now and see if it was cool to come over."

"Hell, bring her over. The more the merrier."

I exchanged looks with Spencer, who shrugged consent, and raised my eyebrows at Ryan, who glanced at her with somewhat perplexed suspicion. We split up to go our separate ways, and I drove back to the abode, pondering why she wouldn't want to be alone with him.

Spence, with no girlfriend in tow I noticed, and I arrived at Ryan's at the same time. As he reached for the handle, a voice broke inside the house.

"You BITCH!"

We swapped bewildered expressions and hurried in, just in time to catch Angie zipping into the kitchen and out to the pool. "Get your skinny butt back here, Ross!" she shouted. A splash sounded from the pool, closely followed by another.

Outside, Angie and Ryan appeared to be wrestling in the shallow end, each trying to dunk the other, both yelling and laughing.

"Weirdest couple ever," Spencer reiterated before going inside to change.