Chapter Text
prologue
“Ry! Ryan, wake up!”
Ryan opens his eyes against the harsh sunlight, and it takes him a moment of bleary blinking for him to comprehend the fact that Michael’s ridiculous face is almost pressed up against his. It takes a while to get anything past the ‘I-fucking-hate-getting-up-in-the-morning’ state.
“About time,” comes Gavin’s voice from somewhere beyond his field of vision. “You know, for a bloke with insomnia you can sure sleep like the dead, Rye-bread.”
"Mnargh,” says Ryan, very intelligently. In order to more coherently get his sentiment across, he opts to flip Gavin the bird–or at least, flip the bird at where he thinks Gavin is. The squawking laughter and Michael’s snicker tells him he probably missed. Ah well. Win some, lose some.
In an instant Michael is coaxing him off the mattress, pushing aside the blankets and helping Ryan to his feet. Gavin pops off the edge of the bed and Ryan’s wake up crew start leading him out the door to the kitchen. “C'mon Ry, it’s Thursday,” Michael says. “Jack and Geoff make waffles on Thursday. You sleep good?”
“It was okay,” he answers. “Think I had a nightmare.”
“Aww, Ryan.” And there is Gavin with his customary post-nightmare hug, and Ryan lets him stay for a moment before smiling and prying the younger man off. “You could’ve woken us, you know.”
“It’s fine. I don’t really remember it anyway."
True to Michael’s word, the glorious smell of waffles drifts in from the kitchen as they descend the stairs. Activity abounds as they round the doorway to see Geoff pulling out chairs and setting down plates, Jack reaching into the fridge for their butter and whipped cream and various fruits- and a wide-eyed and confused Ray manning the slightly smoking waffle iron.
Oh dear.
In the very amused haze of 'just-woke-up-so-it’s-not-my-problem’, Ryan watches as Geoff and Jack seem to simultaneously realize what they’ve just done.
Jack freezes with one hand rummaging in the fruit drawer and Geoff literally lunges for the waffle iron with a shout of, "Ray! Not the waffles!” For his part, Ray blinks very rapidly and steps out of the way of a panicky Geoff, still not removing his gaze from the waffle iron.
Michael snickers and Gavin is desperately trying to muffle his giggling, both boys hiding behind Ryan in a bid to avoid Ray’s annoyance once he snaps out of his waffle-induced shell shock. Ryan rolls his eyes at the two and steps into the kitchen proper.
“Morning,” he drawls. “Heard we have waffles for breakfast?”
“Had,” Geoff corrects mournfully, prying open the lid of the waffle iron to show a slightly lumpy and blackened waffle.
“Dare you to eat Ray’s cooking for a hundred,” Gavin stage whispers. Michael grins.
“Shut up,” Ray mutters, glaring embarrassedly at his charred waffle. Ryan bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, and walks over to kiss Ray.
“I’d do it even without the money,” he says.
“Kiss ass,” says Jack. He sets the strawberries down on the table and rounds up their maple syrup and honey.
“Hey, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum! You two idiots going to get in here so we can get started?” Geoff calls. He’s already pouring in a fresh batch of batter for Ryan. “We got to leave in an hour and I know for a fact that aside from Jack none of you assholes have showered yet!”
“Yes, mom!” Michael exchanges glances with Gavin, and the two move to their seats. Ryan’s commandeered the coffee machine because he’s memorized everyone’s usual and it’s universally agreed that unless it’s Irish Coffee Day, Geoff is not to come anywhere near the machine. And after that one video Michael cannot be trusted with the power to generate caffeine. And as for Gavin… Well, just saying his name is a good enough explanation on its own, really.
Also Ryan gets really, really protective over his the coffee machine. He once actually hissed at Jack when the other man offered to make coffee for everyone else. So yeah, they just let Ryan do his thing.
Due to the eating habits of a certain someone who will remain unnamed (it’s Gavin, it’s always Gavin, why do you expect anyone other than Gavin by this point?) the actual eating part of breakfast zooms past but cleanup takes ten minutes longer than it should, because maple syrup on the walls? Really fucking annoying. Who would’ve guessed?
But once cleanup is done, that only leads to the next step of their daily morning chaos. Ray immediately dashes to the shower with a yell of, “Dibs!"
Gavin squawks in protest and makes to go after him but Jack hauls him back by the back of his collar before he manages three steps. "If you get in there with Ray we’re going to be late to work,” he scolds, and Gavin just squirms and throws his arms about.
“But Jaaaack…”
“No.”
“Jack!”
“No!”
Michael rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out; Geoff rolls his eyes and sneaks a can of beer or four into his bag while Jack’s distracted; Ryan rolls his eyes and kicks back to watch the inevitable descent of any Jack and Gavin quarrel into ridiculous protests and insult-slinging.
“Why d'you always have to be a mingey smaffpot!”
“What the fuck does that even mean!”
By some miracle they get everyone showered and dressed and all prepped to go just in time for them to be able to arrive to work only ten minutes late.
Of course, there’s one last challenge:
“I call shotgun!” Michael yells, leaping in the front seat of Geoff’s car. He slams the door shut and smirks at Gavin from inside.
“No fair!” Gavin cries. Ray shrugs and saunters over to the back seat, and with some grumbling Gavin is finally convinced to let Michael have the front seat “only if I get to ride shotgun on the way back home!”
Ryan glances over at Jack and grins. “You and me on the bike today?” he asks, and Jack returns his smile.
“Yep.”
And Geoff’s honking his horn which means he’s probably twelve seconds from running over the two of them if they don’t get on the bike right this instant you fuckers, we’re gonna be fucking late again and Burnie’s gonna tear me a new one if we don’t show up on time and-
It’s a familiar enough speech that they can tune it out as they get their helmets on and start the bike up. Jack’s arms settle around Ryan’s waist and they go- and Ryan grins because the sun is warm but not as warm as Jack’s comfortable presence behind him, and it’s a beautiful sky above but not as beautiful as waking up with five of the people he loves most, and Ryan figures he must be the luckiest man in the whole damn world.