Work Text:
Every time he looked at Ryan, all he could think about was how smart he was.
It was a fact brought up by the majority within the office. And though it was usually in ironic context, it was never really mocking or insulting. It was genuinely remarked in underlying awe. They had this brainiac, this man capable of so many brilliant things, sitting between them all making dick jokes and perpetrating the character of a complete psychopath for the sake of entertaining commentary while playing video games targeted for children.
But there were multiple occasions where his intellect was indeed challenged and given room to blossom and Michael was relieved, in some strange way that it could be put to some use; whether it was fixing the often problematic servers or helping the RWBoys deal with animation software.
And being perfectly honest, Michael rarely had problems with insecurity. He wasn’t entirely arrogant or proud – most of his confidence came from his seemingly natural ‘I never gave a fuck’ attitude. However, he’d be lying if he said it had never been an issue. Because could feel it, when he compared himself to Ryan.
The man was wholeheartedly smarter than he could ever be. He was a whole lot of other things too.
Yet he wasn’t jealous, not even close. He was...disappointed.
The Gent was way out of his league.
He’d been having these feelings for a while now, as much as it embarrassed him to admit. These feelings of admiration and adoration that never seemed to quell because every time he looked at Ryan, all he could think about was how smart he was. How handsome he was. How utterly charming the man appeared to be.
Among his favoured traits were his sharp wit, his dark humor, and his bubbly persona. He always smiled so comfortably, like he was always home. And, okay, maybe he wasn’t always eloquent with his words but he had a way of introducing himself that made the memory stick. And sometimes, Michael would watch him and wonder where he got it all.
And then he would step back and consider himself.
What was he? A 26 year-old Jersey manchild with the lexicon of a sailor and a temper the size of the Incredible Hulk? What a piece of work. He was kidding himself by even entertaining the idea of Ryan and he.
“Hey, astronaut!”
The man immediately snapped out of his reverie at the sudden call for his attention. There was Ryan himself, looking at the younger in what seemed to be friendly concern.
He discarded his headphones that he hadn’t really been using in the first place. In this state of mind, they only served as a decent buffer to make others think he was actually working and to avoid talking to people. Normally he’d switch back and forth between working his ass off and being a lazy douchebag but today he wasn’t really either. He was feeling far away and day-dreamy and was finding it very difficult to concentrate.
However, the blue eyes that he was immediately met with upon glancing up had him unable to look away.
“Astronaut?” he parroted in confusion.
“You’re spacing out, man.” The mild amusement in Ryan’s grin grew with every word he spoke. “Come back down to Earth, why don’t you? We need you here.”
“Oh,” Michael caught on. “Sorry,” he laughed.
Ryan chuckled. “What are you thinking about anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen you this quiet since the massive hangover of New Year’s, 2013.”
“Nothing,” the Jersey native immediately retorted, almost blushing in embarrassment at the quickness of his reply. “I’m just super fucking tired.”
Luckily, Ryan didn’t press any further, just accepted his answer. “Ugh,” he agreed, “I feel you. I was up until 2 this morning reading this new book I could not put down. It’s about robots and—“
“Fucking nerd,” Michael interjected playfully, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to become one, if you keep that shit up.”
As if to prove his point, Ryan gave him the best C3-PO impression he could, which included exaggerated arm movements and an accent that could easily win out Gavin’s by pure ridiculousness. It wasn’t helping what Michael was feeling towards him at all, but it got him laughing. Ryan was good at that.
Sobering up from his performance, the other man got back to his original point. “So Ray and I were going to go to lunch, was wondering if you wanted to join us.” He smiled.
Michael bit his lip inwardly, having an internal struggle with accepting and making up some excuse as to why he couldn’t go. It was harmless – he just wanted to grab some grub. It wasn’t like he was asking him to dinner personally. That thought alone made him nervous and thus the decision was made. Michael feared it was a dangerous idea and that he’d have a better time with Ray anyway.
He shook his head, trying to be polite. “Uh, I’m good. I’ll probably eat some pizza later. Thanks, though.”
The delight in Ryan’s face almost seemed to disappear at that. But his tone remained playful, despite the absence of his beam. “That’s the third time you’ve turned me down this week, Michael,” he said. And if Michael wasn’t mistaken, he sounded quite let down. “Am I not good enough for you?” he joked, but again, there was a seriousness to his words that made him reconsider.
That fact was true; he had. But not all times had he been purposefully allusive, one day he’d been busy with a meeting and the other he had already made plans with Gav.
But Ryan was apparently offended and thought Michael was rejecting him because he had better things to do.
He almost laughed at the irony.
“No, no, that’s not it,” he blurted out in a rush. ”That’s not it at all.”
Ryan’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity but he remained silent.
“Quite the opposite, actually,” Michael muttered to the floor in a shy voice that was unlike him. He was being stupid and juvenile and he should have excused himself to the bathroom—
“What would make you think that?”
Michael looked up at Ryan, who was gazing at him intently in what wasn’t judgement, but instead the concern of wanting to know. He found it difficult to speak for a few minutes because of that.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “You’re smart as hell, you’re calm-headed... And god damn dude, you’re fucking great at getting people to notice you. Seriously, I think you were meant for show business or something, asshole.”
The Georgian, though slightly flattered, merely waved away all of those things. “And you don’t think you’re anything special?”
Michael said nothing.
Ryan shook his head. “Since day one, I always thought you were the coolest. ‘Rage Quit Jones’-this, ‘Rage Quit Jones’-that. You were all everyone talked about when I started here. And when I joined in the Let’s Plays, I finally understood why. You’re intimidating and you’re loud and you curse more than Geoff, which is saying something, but you’re energetic and you’re fun and terrifyingly honest. You’re not afraid to be yourself and that’s what makes you so real. We all like that about you. They just like a persona I put on where I stuff cows in holes and pretend to be axe-crazy.”
The younger, in a haze of awe and disbelief, was about to object, but Ryan stopped him. “If anything, you’re the one that’s out of my league here. But, Michael, the only attention I want is yours.”
Peeking around the office and finding no one in sight, Ryan quickly leant over and snuck a brief kiss to the other’s freckled cheek. He did nothing to hide the crimson that coloured his face. “I hope that was okay,” he then stuttered uncharacteristically. “I-I’ve kinda—“
But he didn’t finish, Michael instead interrupted him with a peck of his own, this time on the older man’s lips. It was fast but it was sweet and when they pulled apart, Michael was grinning unabashedly.
“So...lunch?”
Ryan nodded, his own expression equally as pleased. “Make Ray the third wheel once again?”
Michael let out a snort. “Of fucking course.”
On their way out of the office, Michael paused.
“If what you said is true, then why aren’t you following me on Twitter yet, motherfucker?”
“Eh...I’m more of a leader, not a follower.”
“Shut the fuck up.”