Differences

The Flyers won game two, heading to Washington with a 2-0 series lead. Unfortunately, the boys in orange lost both games in Washington and then also game five in Philadelphia. When the Flyers went back to Washington for game six, Michael asked Ryan to come along again and she agreed.

Instead of celebrating a tied series and looking forward to a game seven at home, the Flyers lost, getting eliminated in heartbreaking fashion, losing by a single goal. There had been plenty of chances to tie it, the boys all played their hearts out, but still came up short.

Ryan sat there stunned, listening to the crowd go wild for the Caps. More on her mind than anything else was thinking about how Michael was going to feel when she saw him. It’s always disappointing when your team loses, when you get knocked out of the playoffs it’s almost like having your heart broken, but being involved with one of your team’s players adds another layer of misery on top of everything else. Ryan herself was sad and frustrated and she did not look forward to Michael coming to her for comfort or reassurance.

She was not Contessa, who went right to Sidney after the Pens series loss to do whatever she could to help cheer him. Ryan did not want to be responsible for Michael’s emotional well-being, she just didn’t. That isn’t who she was and it wasn’t who she wanted to be. Michael had to know that by now, right?

When he didn’t show up at her hotel two hours after the game ended, she assumed he wasn’t coming at all. He didn’t call, he didn’t text and suddenly Ryan felt stupid for expecting him to. He knew what this was, what they weren’t. Maybe he had decided to find peace somewhere else. Which is exactly what she had been wanting. So why did she go to bed feeling a little lonely and disappointed?

At three a.m., someone was knocking on her door. She opened it to revel Michael, drunk as can be, leaning on the door frame with eyes unable to focus and shouting, “Ryan!”

“Shh!”

At the same loud volume he mumbled, “We lost. We lost, Ryan. Ryan, hold me!”

“Keep your goddamn voice down, you useless fool.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Stumbling over his feet, he made it in, crashing onto the bed and sitting there in a stupor.

He held out his arm towards her as his body wobbled. “Hold me, Ryan. Ryan, I’m so broken.”

Ryan was still half asleep and if she hadn’t been in the mood for this last evening, she certainly wasn’t in the mood for it in the wee hours of the morning. Especially when she had to catch an early train back to Philadelphia for her afternoon class.

One palm on her forehead she said to herself, “What the hell did I do to deserve this, huh? I’m a good person. Okay…I’m not, but Jesus Christ…”

She accepted that this was her life right now and went over to Michael, squatting down to take his shoes off. He looked down at her, eyes still fuzzy, not able to look directly at her. “You’re so nice.”

“I can guaran-damn-tee you, I’m not. I just want to go back to bed and since you’re here, I assume that means you’re staying.”

He nodded. “I’m staying. You’re so good to me. I love you, Ryan.”

She didn’t even flinch at his statement, but just continued her work. “You’re drunk, you’re upset, you don’t love me, Raff.”

He nodded again as she pulled his pants off. “I am drunk. I am upset. I don’t love you. But I could. I would love you so hard.”

“I don’t want you to, so don’t bother.”

When she reached for his shirt, he grabbed her wrists. “You ever love anyone?”

“I love Contessa.”

“I mean a man. You ever let a man love you, Ryan? You’re so goddamn pretty.”

Now she flinched, brushing his hand away when he tried to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Quietly she said, “My mother was pretty, too. That didn’t exactly pan out for her.”

Michael wanted so badly to for his brain to work. He tried to swim through the haze of alcohol because Ryan was actually being open for once. “What? What are you talking about?”

Just as quickly, her shields went back up. “No, I’ve never loved a man. I don’t intend to either. You fuckers are good for one thing, making me come. End of story.”

Michael reached up, grabbed her face before she could stop him. Now his eyes met hers. “I’m gonna love you, whether you like it or not.”

“I already told you, I don’t want you to. You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t care. I just decided, right now. We’re going to fall in love and everything will be alright.”

Ryan scoffed at his arrogance. “We’re not even dating, but now we’re going to fall in love? Good luck with that.”

“Ah, see, that’s step one of my plan, first I convince you I’m good enough to date. Then I make you fall in love with me.”

Strangely enough Ryan wasn’t angry he was talking about love, but the way he framed their future. “First of all, you can’t convince me of anything, I will or will not date you as I see fit, it has nothing to do with you.”

Even drunk he was rational. “It has a little bit to do with me.”

“To the point, Raff. Secondly, why does the woman always have to do the falling in love while the man just stands around being…whatever? This isn’t one of Contessa’s romance novels and I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Mmm, I know you’re not. You’re perfect and mean and bossy and I like it a lot. We’re gonna be so good together when we’re in love, just you wait. We’re good now, but it’s gonna be even better.”

Ryan sighed deeply, totally done with this entire conversation. “Michael, I don’t want to you hurt you, so I’m just gonna pray you don’t remember any of this. Now let me take your shirt off or you can sleep it in and wear the wrinkles in the morning.”

Like a child, he held his arms in the air and let her yank the dress shirt over his head. She laid his clothes out on the chair so they would be in wearable condition.

When she crawled back into bed, Michael came up behind her to spoon along her body. She patted his forearm in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. At least he hadn’t wanted to talk about the game and their mutual disappointment. Thank God for small favors.

The love stuff? She wasn’t worried about that, either. The man was about as drunk as you can get without being dead from alcohol poisoning and she doubted he would even remember coming here when he woke up again. And if he did…she really didn’t want to hurt him, but she would if he forced her hand.

Ryan listened to Michael’s soft breathing near her ear and eventually fell asleep, only to be awoken a couple hours later to her alarm going off on the nightstand. She slapped her hand for the phone, finding it and turning off the sound. She rolled over and found Michael on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey. Did you sleep?”

He shook his head. Then said, “I threw up on the floor. I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, fucking disgusting, Raff.”

Ryan got up, walking around the bed and avoiding the brown and beige vomit on the hotel room carpet, giving Michael an annoyed stare that he just shrugged off. The man was clearly still drunk, if only slightly and due for one hell of a hangover. Ryan didn’t have time to babysit him, so she took a shower and got dressed, all the while he just laid there lifelessly.

With her overnight bag packed, Ryan stood poised and ready to leave. “You gotta go, Raff. I have a train to catch.”

“Must be nice, you get to go to work today.”

Here we go, she thought, so this is how it starts. She came over to his side of the bed, sidestepping the throw up. “Hey, I’m not gonna participate in your little pity party, okay? You lost, deal with it. You need to get your shit together and go home.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, just focused on the pure white paint above him. “Why? You can go, I’ll leave before the cleaning people come.”

She should have, she really should have gone. She could have checked out and let him lay there in own misery until the women came to clean the room and kicked him out. She should have walked out the door and gotten on her train. Instead, she slapped him, hard.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being an idiot. I understand you’re upset, so am I, but life goes on. Now, get up. We’re leaving.”

“I can’t. Just leave me here.” He rolled away from her, pulling the comforter back up over his shoulders. He was feeling defeated and more useless than he had ever felt in his life. He had no energy to get out of that bed. Just as quickly, Ryan pulled the covered back again, this time slapping his ass.

“I don’t think so. Let’s go. Come on.” She grabbed his arm, tugging him until his body rolled and he faced her. She kept tugging until he finally sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Mind the puke. Get dressed, you fucking slob. You look like shit.”

He sat there as he had a few hours ago, unfocused, exhausted, swaying slightly. Ryan stood there in front of him with her arms folded. When he finally looked up he asked, “Why are you being so mean to me? You hit me, Ry.”

“Because you needed it. I’m not gonna hold you and pat your head and say nice things. If you…”

“If I what?”

Foolishly she was about to say something along the lines of “if you really want to try and love me, you’ll have to get used to this,” but thankfully she caught herself. If he was going to forget their conversation, she wouldn’t do anything to remind him of it.

“If you can’t get your shit together, I’ll do it for you. I’m not sweet Contessa, okay? I’m Ryan, the woman who will slap the shit of you when you’re acting like a child, pouting in bed.”

With an obviously pouty lip he insisted, “I’m not pouting.”

“You are. Knock it off. You’re a grown man, fucking act like it.”

“God! Can you just…back off! Let me have twenty-four hours to feel like shit and THEN move on? I just need to process this.”

“There’s nothing to process. You lost.”

“I know!”

She didn’t yell back, but her tone was harsh, matronly, leaving no room for argument. “Stop fucking shouting at me or I’ll slap you again. You lost. The whole city of Philly is gonna be mourning today, but not me and not you, Raff. I won’t allow it.”

His eyes looked up at hers through heavy lashes. He was quiet again when he said, “Why? Why can’t you just let me be? Just let me mourn with everyone else.”

“Because you’re better than that, better than them. And so am I. We’re the strong ones, Raff, people like you and me. We don’t let shit like this bring us down because we can’t. It’s a game. You were playing a game last night, a game that children play. The stakes are higher, but at the end of the day it’s a fucking game.”

A smile broke out across his lips. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me…that I’m strong. I never thought I was, but if you think so…I must be.”

“You’re also dumb as hell, so I suppose it evens out.”

“You can try to insult me all you want, but you gave me a compliment and I’m going to keep it.”

“Keep it, Raff. Now seriously, I need to catch the train.”

“Alright, okay. I’m coming.” He stood up, putting his foot right in the vomit he had projected out of bed last night. Ryan bit her lip to keep from laughing in his face about it. Trying not to throw up again, Michael told her, “Not one word. Not a single word out of you, Ryan, or I swear to Christ…”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Michael wiped his foot on the carpet and hobbled towards the bathroom, stopping next to Ryan where she stood.

Her eyes were sparkling with amusement as she kept them lowered and she fought back a grin. “What, Raff?”

He kissed her cheek. “Thank you. You can laugh now.”

The cackling bubbled from between her lips and soon she was bent over, struggling to breath she was laughing so hard. “Oh. My. God. Karma is such a bitch.”

He chuckled and finally went into the bathroom. “Yeah, yeah. I suppose I deserve this.”

They made it to the station on time and Ryan bought them tickets home, along with coffees, doughnuts, and the morning paper. They settled in together, sitting facing one another. Raffl wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her, getting him out of bed, how much he really did need her to be harsh with him sometimes. She had a way about her that could be seen as cruel, but it also showed how much she cared. If she didn’t care, she would have left him there. But she had stayed, she had taken care of him when he needed it the most.

He said nothing, just watched her sip her coffee and eat three doughnuts, the best three, leaving him with a plain glazed that he was just barely able to choke down and keep down thanks to the coffee washing it through his throat.

There were a few Flyers fan making the journey back to Philadelphia with them. One tired to say something slick to Michael, not realizing who he was traveling with. After his rude comment, before Michael could open his mouth, Ryan sat forward.

“Hey, fuck off. Don’t even look in his direction again or I’ll stab your goddamn eyes out with a pen.”

“Fuck you.”

“Back at ya. You wanna test my patience, by all means, keep standing there.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You fucking should be, because I’m not fucking around. Get away from him or I swear to God, I’ll make you bleed like a stuck pig and laugh while I do it.”

The ‘fan’ uttered, “Fucking nut job,” but walked away. Ryan went right back to reading the paper as if nothing excited had happened. Michael just stared at her.

She was fearless this one, strong as a bull and as feisty as a pit bull. And she had stood up for him without a moment’s hesitation. She might call him useless, tell him he’s an idiot, but she wouldn’t let anyone else, let alone a stranger on a train, insult him. She probably thought that tearing him down was her job, he mused. This woman lived her life with fire and conviction. She didn’t do anything in half measures. And he was going to love her and feel the full force of that fire if it killed him, which he acknowledged, it just might.

Oh, yes, he remembered, every word he had said to her and he had meant them all. Let her think he was drunk and talking out of his ass. Granted, he had been drunk and talking out of his ass, but he had been serious. This was a woman he needed and one day, he knew, she would need him as well. It would not be easy, but it would be worth it. Because if this was the way she cared for him, getting him out of bed and breaking through his post-loss funk in no time flat, if this was the passion and force she defended him with when she insisted she didn’t even want to date him, he could only imagine the power of her love if she ever chose to let it out on him. And he would make sure it was him that pulled it from her. No one else could have her because no one else would ever treasure her the way he could. The way he would. He had begun to fall in love with her from the moment they met and he had no plans on scaling it back.

Michael stared at her with awe and affection, thinking all this, until she looked up at him.

Her eyes attempted to be cold and harsh, but he could tell she was pleased with herself for having dispatched the rude man so efficiently. “What?”

He said with a smile, “Are you my bodyguard now?”

“Someone has to look after you, apparently. You’re like a child let loose in the city, running around until all hours of the night, getting shit-faced drunk, unable to get out of bed because you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself, aggravating the village idiots. How’s your head, by the way?”

“Fucking terrible. Feels like someone’s using my brain as a bass drum.”

Ryan smiled and went back to reading. “There’s aspirin in my purse.”

He found the pills and a bottle of water to wash them down. He put her bag back on the seat next to her and then pressed the paper down from her face and into her lap. “What now?”

He answered by leaning forward and kissing her deeply. Shockingly, she let him, smiling against his mouth and returning the kiss. When he was done he told her, “My fierce Ryan. You are so very special.”

“I’m also not yours, so watch your fucking mouth before I stab YOU.”

He sat back in his seat, laughing. “Read your paper, you cranky thing.”

“If you would let me, I’d be happy to.” He smiled, closed his eyes and slept, knowing she would wake him when they got home.

Ryan watched him close his eyes and smiled once he did. The fool, the absolute idiot, she thought, but damn if he isn’t adorable. Strange as it was, she had to admit that Contessa was right, he did seem to like her, snark and sass and insults and all. Being a bitch, that was her defense, the way she kept people at arm’s length, always had been.

But Raffl? The meaner she was to him, the more he wanted to hang around. The more she called him useless, the more he sought her out to take care of him, which surprisingly she did. There was just something about him, something in his demeanor that made her feel comfortable enough to really be herself around him. Ryan would cuss out anyone, but she only really regularly insulted the people she liked, Contessa for example, and her students.

And Raffl, her mind reminded her. Damn it. She did kind of like him, didn’t she? Still didn’t want to date him, but maybe she did like him, just a touch. Why else had she forced him out of bed? She could have left, she thought she should have left. Fucking Austrian had some kind of hold on her and it was pretty annoying, to be honest. She went back to her paper.

When they got home, Raffl came to her house, claiming it was easier than going all the way downtown. Ryan let him stay and went to work. While she was gone, Michael started to think of ways he could break her down even more, get her to open up as she had started to when she thought he was too drunk to remember. That was when he decided what he was going to do. He was going to move in with her over the summer and he was going to do it without asking and maybe without her even noticing.

Notes

Two shorter chapters this week, but longer ones to come. I am finished up my final project this weekend (thank GOD) so I should have more time to write lovely things about these lovely folks during my long, school free summer!