musesandlyrics | 6.16 Gone with the Wind quote
6.16. "Nothing has turned out as we expected. It never does. Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect. We take what we get and are thankful it's no worse than it is."
Gone With The Wind
Co-written with doctordefib
Ryan really, really hated the subway. He had hated it in America and he hated it just as much in London. There was no a single positive thing he could say about that form of public transport, yet sometimes, when the world seemed to explode around you, you found your ass planted firmly on a grimy subway train. He should have taken it as a bad sign when his car wouldn't start that morning. The piece of shit just wouldn't turn over and Ryan tried to make a concerted effort not to cuss profusely as he tried to get it to start on account of the fact his nine year old son was sitting beside him, watching with wide-eyed curiosity as if he was almost daring his dad to let the F word slip. It wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes it did just slip out, but Ryan tried to avoid it as much as he coul. He didn't want his kid growing up like white trash where every second word out of his mouth started with F or C. There wasn't even any solace that morning. Normally Ryan had the luxury of calling on Hayden's grandparents to bail him out when things got tough. They lived just a couple of suburbs over and had been absolutely priceless with how much they had helped him since he moved to London. Nothing was ever a trouble for them and they were always happy to take care of Hayden. Today wasn't one of those days. They were off on a well-deserving trip to Benidorm, so Ryan didn't have his lifeline to call on. He ended up opting for the subway to get Hayden to school on time. Even taking a cab would take too long in the morning rush hour.
He managed to get Hayden through the school gates in just a nick of time, calling out to him to not get into any mischief and remember to bring his gym bag back home with him. Gym day was always more hectic, trying to get two bags on the go, which is where the subway sucked even more. But it was a success, even if Ryan was well late to work himself. He was stressed out before he even made it to the office, only to be reminded of a meeting he had with an ex-patient and their family about something that happened on the ward before he even took the managerial position. He managed to get through it with a sympathetic understanding and set the wheels in motion for the starts of a resolution. It was a successful outcome mostly, and the day went a little smoother after that. At least, it did until he got a call from Hayden's teacher at school saying the kid had thrown up in gym class and needed to go home. Normally at this juncture, Ryan would call in the grandparental back up and Nana and Granddad would swoop in to the rescue until Ryan finished work. Not such luck. Benidorm.
This meant Ryan had to finish work early - and extremely apologetically - but his boss luckily understood and with kids of her own, was sympathetic to his plight. But he was in the middle of a project on patient flow analysis and the data needed to be submitted before close of business in two days time. He really, really couldn't afford to just skive off work for a whole afternoon or he would never get the work done. So he back up a stack of folders, books, and documents into a a couple of plastic bags, grabbed up his briefcase and rushed out of his office with his arms laden with hopes he could see to the outstanding work later that night. Hopefully the kid would be okay. Ryan hated when his boy was ill, it was the worse friggen part about parenting. You hurt when they hurt, and even though he was a doctor, when your own kid was sick, it wasn't always easy. You still panicked like normal parents, and still worried your ass off. It was only when he got out onto the busy London street that he rememebered he didn't have his car, and then, without nine year old ears as witness, he let fly with a string of colourful expletives that didn't make him feel any better when he was done. He opted for a cab, but it took him ages to get one and by the time he bundled Hayden up from the school nurse, he figured the subway was the lesser of two evils right now. Hayden still looked green around the gills and was clinging to his Dad for comfort. But now Ryan had his briefcase, his plastic bags full of work, Hayden's school bag, Hayden's gym bag and Hayden all hanging off him in some capacity. He barely made it through the train doors before they swung closed again and nearly caught his butt cheeks in the onslaught. He caught another swear word just before it fell from his lips, and then looked around the carriage, red-faced, panting and feeling more than a little harrassed.
No seats.
Of course there were no fucking seats! They seemed to be filled with little old ladies and men on their way to bingo who wouldn't give up their seat to anyone because they were entitled to it, especially not someone in their thirties, nevermind the fact he was about to explode from stress. Hayden seemed to realised the same fate simultaneous to his dad, and leaned tiredly and heavily against Ryan's leg, arm curled around his waist. It wasn't like the kid to lack energy like this. Ryan fough the urge to shoot all the old-age pensioners Death Glares and then stooped down to his son's eye level, juggling the bag so he could ruffle Hayden's hair a little. "You alright, buddy? It's just a few stops, kiddo. On a scale of one to ten, what's the chances of you barfing again?" He really wasn't sure what he was going to do if the kid said ten. He was literally up shit creek without a paddle and the floor of the train would just have to cop it. Hayden merely shrugged listlessly and rested his forehead against Ryan's chest. Ryan straightened up again with a sigh, hugging his arm around his son's shoulder, trying to reassure him it would be okay. He could feel the old people watching him, even more so when he fumbled with Ryan's school bag, dropped it and watched in horror as the entire contents, including a soggy sandwich from four days ago spilled out all over the floor. And the old bastards just sat there... and continued to not shift ass out of the seats.
Iain wanted a nap. His eyes had been drifting closed since the last stop, his body giving up in the face of working during the day, and not at night like he normally would. One of the supposed benefits while his new bistro was being renovated and created was that he could get away with "early" shifts. The kind that didn't mean he finished work at two in the morning, or something other ridiculous hour. Only his body was actually used to those hours, and getting up at five in the morning when he would normally only just be getting to sleep was messing with his head.
He snuffled as he opened his eyes again, and ruffled his brown hair as he looked around. He hadn't really noticed the guy and his kid get on, but he did notice the rather questionable sandwich that was now at his feet. One look at the kid and he didn't need to know anything past the green colour he was sporting. No kid was supposed to be that kind of green, right? He remembered Stuart looking like that once when he was younger, and he just knew this kid was doomed. Which meant the dad probably was, too. Iain still didn't look up as he automatically crouched down to pick up the kid's belongings and stuff them back into the bag. He was trying to be careful, and admittedly he had seen worse rotten food than the soggy sandwich, but he also figured he couldn't really do any more damage. He glanced up at the kid, and gave him a crooked smile. "Hope you werenae eating that thing, kiddo. No wonder you're looking a wee bit peaky. Get your Dad to give you something a little bit nicer, aye? Maybe some hot chicken soup. Always did my brothers the world of good." Iain gave the kid a friendly wink. "Even puts hairs on your chest if you make it right."
Probably in any other circumstance, Ryan would be giving Hayden a gentle nudge right now and prompting him to say thank you. Not that he had to do that much, the kid had pristine manners and Ryan often got complemented on it. But he figured it was safer if his son's mouth remained firmly closed for the moment and he went to lean over to try and assist in scooping the school crap back up into the bag, but as he did, the gym bag prompt flopped off his shoulder and banged him in the face, almost knocking him off balance. "Jesus Christ," he cursed, a small part of him hoping one of the old people was a Christian, just so he ruined their day too a little. It really wasn't his fucking day at all. "His Dad's cooking will probably just make him worse," he had to offer wryly, forced to stand back up again. He didn't care what anyone said, he dumped the bags on the floor for the moment so he could crouch down to help the guy. The mess was his issue anyway. A Ferrari lunch box was shoved back into the bag along with Hayden's art book and pencil case. "Thanks, dude. I'm sorry. You have no idea how much I appreciate the help."
"Nay bother," Iain automatically returned. He'd watched the poor bloke get smacked in the face with the gym bag, and now Iain had the odd sense he'd just been smacked in the face. Tall, dark, and handsome. Just the way he liked them. He cleared his throat, trying not to seem like he was checking out the kid's father too obviously. There was probably a missus waiting at home, all naked and womanly. Iain hated women. At least the ones that got all the good looking blokes before he had a chance to turn them gay if they weren't already. He dropped his gaze back down to the floor of the train, trying to see if there was anything else that needed to be shoved back in the bag. "Sorry there isnae any cape, and underpants to go with saving the day, but I dinnae want to scare kids. I can work boxer-briefs, but jocks have nay ever been my thing." Even as it tumbled out of his mouth, Iain wanted to smack himself in the forehead. The poor guy didn't need that kind of information, did he? Iain's other head was already starting to drain all the blood flow south so he said dumb things. "I havenae killed anyone yet with my cooking, but then I've nay kids to feed. For all I know my recipes arenae kid friendly."
As soon as Ryan managed to get the bag righted, and with the pensioners still gawping at the free show, he threw it back over his shoulder and then had to do a quick check to make sure his confidential work papers hadn't taken the same fate as the school bag. They all seemed neatly tucked in the plastic bags. At least, as neatly tucked as something could be in a Tesco bag. Hayden's arm snaked back around his dad's waist, and Ryan was once again looking down to make sure the boy was okay. He was really out of sorts and it was unnerving for Ryan. Maybe getting him home in front of the TV with a hot water bottle would do the trick. Hopefully. He realised then what the guy had said and smirked. "Well, could be why I've always been a firm supporter of nudity in general," he returned. "No dealing with elastic, less laundry, save on laundry liquid. Ten points for being able to cook something edible, though. Not that I can't cook, I sort of had to learn real quick, but I'm no Jamie Oliver. Basic... enough not to starve." The train pulled up at the stop before their place and Ryan couldn't stifle a sigh of relief. He gave Hayden's shoulders a soft squeeze of encouragement. Poor kid. Who wanted to deal with being dragged onto a subway train when you felt sick? It was only then that Ryan managed to have a moment to notice the guy's appearance. Nice. Very nice, actually. Ryan flashed him a small smile, even if it was on the stressed, frazzled side.
Iain's eyebrows knitted with concern as his gaze flicked between child, and parent, but they stayed locked on the father's eyes for a moment before he found himself smiling back. Something sparked inside him, and he even looked a little embarrassed at the mention of Jamie Oliver. He couldn't help that his last association with the Naked Chef was sitting in front of the TV naked, and stroking himself. He'd been bored, horny, and hungry. Somehow getting off to a cooking show and seemed like a good idea no matter what excuses he'd made to his little brother. His tongue ran over his lips and straightened up to his full height as he reached up to grab one a part of the pole overhead. The safety handles were usually too low for him, so he just went straight to the source. He ducked his head for a quick look out the doors as they opened, making sure it was definitely the stop before his. "What kind of points do I get for being able to cook something edible in the nude? You know, for future reference... There's nothing wrong with knowing enough to eat for survival. I'm hardly a Michelin star chef. Just know a few things or two to make things taste a little more... delicious. I blame my Ma'. Cannae eat anything that doesnae at least taste like she cooked it. I think I even had a wooden spoon to the backside once for putting the wrong spices in something once."
"Points will probably be the least of your worries if your tackle gets splashed with hot oil," Ryan had to reason, smirking. His shoulders were killing him, and he reaslised just how buggered all the running around had made him. He had started the day at five o'clock and now that felt like a lifetime ago, even if it was just after lunch, give or take. The Scottish accent wasn't lost on him. It was still something that awed Ryan, even though he had been living in London for five years now. He had been to Scotland for a visit a few times and loved it, had even been tempted to move there with Hayden, but he hadn't wanted to uproot the kid in the middle of his schooling, so London it was. He still couldn't believe after the whole fiasco still no one had relinquished their seat, at least for the kid, who clearly wasn't well. English people might be a little more polite than Americans, but they definitely weren't deserving of any Sainthoods. It didn't matter anymore, though. They were nearly home, and Ryan couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to get in his front door this badly. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? Scottish parents are that strict?"
"It hasnae happened yet. I'm always sure to point the tackle away from the hot oil. That's how much experience I have," Iain replied as he smirked back. His gaze dropped to the other man's mouth briefly, and he really was trying desperately to imagine some wife waiting for the father at home in lingerie just to stop from wanting to jump his American bones. Iain had never thought he'd ever fancy a yank as much as he did right that moment. "I was only having a wee bit of a lend. She didnae really smack me as punishment, more a motherly tap to serve as a reminder. Scottish mothers dinnae ever let sons get away with anything, but they arenae so strict as to use corporal punishment on them for getting something like a spice wrong. Maybe for showing their tackle to the tenth grade assembly, but that's about it."
This actually caused Hayden to look up at the guy with a slight hint of curiosity under the pallor. Just because he was only nine didn't mean he wasn't always breeding a healthy dose of deviant testosterone in there somewhere, god forbid. Ryan threaded his fingers through his son's hair. "Don't even think about it, kiddo. Only Scottish lads are allowed to get their tackle out in public. Make sure you remember that." He did not need to be dragged into the principal's office at some point in the distant future to sheepishly explain why his son was sharing his assets with the world at large... even if his father was in no way opposed to kilts. The train pulled to a stop at their suburb, and even though Ryan nearly went ass over tit again when he lost his balance with only the window to hold him up, he wanted to jump onto the platform and kiss the wall or something he was so glad to see it. "Can you do me a favour and hold the door? This is our stop," he explained to the guy, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck on the chivalry. He gathered up all his shit, juggling it into his arms and trying to shuffle Hayden towards the door. The kid was waning even more and Ryan was even wondering if he was going to need to carry him to their apartment, or if he should maybe stop at Boots and pick up some supplies from the pharmacy. "But cheers extensively for the help. Sometimes one pair of hands isn't enough. Actually, scratch that. Most of the time one pair of hands isn't enough."
Iain had given the kid another wink at the warning, more than willing to subtly enable a future deviant if he needed to. There was nothing wrong with a boy getting his tackle out in a public place so long as it was all in good fun, and not an act of true perversity. Then his eyebrows went up, and he started to chuckle. "Seriously? This is my stop too, so I can do more than hold the door open, buddy. You need to take the kid, or the bags? Assuming the wee lad doesnae mind me carrying him, and it's alright with you. I promise I'm nay trying to take off with him, or anything, My name's Iain Evans. My little brother's a cop, so you can check up on me if you need to. Feel free to also get the hot oil out and splash my tackle as punishment if I do anything dodgy."
Having good timing really wasn't something Ryan could claim in the Bailey genes. He generally never had the luck of good timing, and even had foot-in-mouth syndrome occasionally. He blamed the Military, even though he couldn't put his finger on why. Whatever it was, he passed it onto his son and as soon as the word 'dodgy' came out of Iain's mouth, Hayden promptly and spectacularly threw up all over himself, Ryan, and one of Iain's legs. The floor of the station copped the rest of it, and the only thing Ryan could think of initially was that he hadn't fed his kid that much in a month, let alone one day. Had he? He closed his eyes briefly. "Dude, I'm so sorry!" he said in a panic when the initial shock wore off. "Seriously, like, especially if that was flirting or something, because that really sucks and I'm sorry." He produced some tissues from the pocket of his jacket, but what the hell was a couple of pissy Kleenex going to do? Fuck all. He settled on trying to wipe Hayden's mouth, trying to keep a hold of all the bag hung off his arms, and simultaneously trying to keep the kid bent over if he wasn't done. Also, why did it suddenly seem that today, the whole world was fucking gawping at him? "Listen, we just live literally a block from here. Come back and I'll... I dunno... give you a beer? Clean pants? Hot oil?"
"I--" Iain was dumbfounded at first, not so much because the kid had exploded all over everything, and his leg, but more because Ryan seemed to be referring to flirting, and now Iain wasn't so sure what it had been. "No, I'm sorry. I didnae mean to incidentally flirt with you. Not that I wouldn't! Just your wee boy's sick, and you're heading home and there weren't any... signals, and I'm nay a pervert!" He felt the need to add before deciding that he really could help just by taking Hayden in his arms when it seemed the boy was done. His leg was already covered, it wasn't going to hurt if his shoulder got covered to. He cradled the boy carefully against him, still watching the other man to see if he was about to get belted for stepping in unasked. "I'll take the first two, but there's nay need for hot oil. Cannae stand the idea of anything being burned before it has a chance to be used."
Ryan just blinked in surprise as the guy seemed to naturally know what to do to help. "I thought you said you didn't have kids?" he found himself asking. His hand had come to rest over his forehead, it even lost on him that Hayden wasn't protesting. He seemed to be watching to see how his dad would react, and Ryan knew that it meant he liked the guy. Which was okay, because Ryan liked the guy too, even if he didn't know him. He was just bewildered and stressed out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume you were flirting. This isn't my day, as you can probably guess, and you've been caught up in it. Fuck, I'm really sorry... at risk of sounding like a broken record. But I can do the beer and the pants. Cup of tea, maybe? I just need the lad home. Apparently there is some freaky bug going around the school. Would have been nice to know in advance, but hey, they seem to expect parents to be mindreaders. Like knowing they should friggen wear black shoes and not grey or whatever the fuck. Unless... shit, do you have somewhere to be? I'm sorry, there I go with the assuming again. I'm seriously not this screwed in the head." Then he realised he had broken the swear rule about a billion times in one breath and his fingers moved from his forehead to his lips as he looked sheepishly at his son.
"I dinnae, just four younger brothers. I'm nay a stranger to needing to take care of a lad. If you had a wee lassie, it'd be different," Iain revealed with a cheeky grin. He was starting to relax now he knew he was helping, and he wasn't the only one flustered. The poor guy just needed a break, and Iain wanted to help. "And at the risk of maybe making your day suck more... I was flirting. Just a wee bit. Couldnae help myself, I just dinnae want it to be something to make the day worse. Nay anything worse than being hit on when you dinnae want it." Iain managed to hang onto the boy with one arm as he reached out to give Ryan's arm a reassuring squeeze before guiding him further up the platform. "It sounds more like I should be making you the tea, mate. Dinnae worry, or go to any bother. It's really nay trouble at all. I've got nowhere to be for now."
"Four? Fu- bloody hell," Ryan said, managing to catch himself just in time. "I think I only have enough stamina for one kid." Man, he wanted to be home. He still wasn't sure how he managed to pick someone up along the way who wanted to so readily help him. As a single father used to dealing on his own, he wasn't used to people just freely offering their services. And now it seemed there were more services on offer than he initially thought. It wasn't like he was foreign to being flirted with by a male, which it probably why he had picked up on it. He had never been shy of his sexuality, and even Hayden knew his Dad occasionally spent time with men, as well as women. It was just the norm for them. Not that Ryan had dabbled in a long time. He couldn't remember the last time he got laid. It was months and months ago, when Hayden went away to Ireland with his grandparents for the school holidays. Ryan had spent a couple of nights with one of the secretaries at the hospital, but it was mutual agreement that it was just sex. She didn't want to ultimately date a guy with a kid, and Ryan had reciprocated by telling her he wasn't looking for a mother for his son. It didn't really end civilly, but it was mutual. He tried not to let his feet drag as he checked his watch when they exited the train station. He was covered in spew, his shoulders were aching from the additional weight, and he really did just want to get home so he could analyse closer how Hayden was. First stop would be a change of clothes and a quick wash. Second stop would be thermometers and buckets. He walked in close vicinity of Iain with Hayden, rubbing his kid's back. "How old is your youngest brother? I'm an only, parents probably figured I was enough of a handful to stop at. I just wanted to say again that I appreciate all this. I don't usually bother with the trains, but my car wouldn't start this morning and it was the start of a crap day in general. Hayden was fine this morning, which means Dad worries even more when it comes out of the blue. And just for the record, it didn't make my day worse. It's just been awhile since I was on the receiving end of anything like it."
Iain gave a nod as he laughed again. "Aye, four. I take it you dinnae like swearing in front of the kid? I'll be sure to watch my mouth around him. Has he got a name? Do you have a name for that matter? We could maybe try introductions again now the wee lad's taking a break from explosive bodily fluids. I dinnae blame you for thinking you'd nay handle more than one. Still dinnae know how our parents did it. Especially with all boys. We would've driven them all around the bend. None of us were particularly well behaved when together. I'm probably the quietest of all of them, but still have my moments. Stuart's twenty-eight." Iain was still watching the father to make sure he wasn't going to collapse. He wasn't short of muscle, but Iain really wasn't sure he could handle carrying them both. He waved his hand slightly, trying to indicate he could handle a couple of the bags as well as the boy. "I'm still under the misapprehension that me travelling on a train when I can will save the environment. It's a different story when I'm doing my actual work, and nay just twiddling my balls waiting around. I work a lot of nights, and I've nay wish to tempt fate by travelling on the train. I'm sorry your luck hasnae been the best, and I'm really sorry you got ninja sick kid. They cannae be too easy to cope with."
Ryan pressed his lips together wryly. "He's only nine. Hayden's his name. I'm trying to be good. His Nana would have my balls if he starts cussing before he hits ten," he said with a small snort of a laugh. It was true, she would probably give him a good whack with the wooden spoon if Hayden's language went down the toilet. He squinted a little in the bright, spring sun. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to give him a brother or sister one day, but it's..." he paused, knowing Hayden was listening and he had to choose his words carefully so the poor kid didn't feel like his Dad didn't want him. "I only have one pair of hands. One kid per pair of hands sounds like a good world plan to me. I also don't envy your night work. I used to do that myself and I always had trouble sleeping in the day when..." He discreetly pointed to Hayden behind his back where he couldn't see, indicating that it was trying to be a shifter worker with a kid. "As horrible as it sounds, I only have time to worry about my environment and not anyone else's so I'm going to have to firmly stamp on the carbon footprint or whatever the hell they call it or I'd never get to work on time. What is it you do? Oh, and I'm Ryan. Ryan Bailey. I'd shake your hand if I had one free."
"Nice to meet you, Hayden," Iain murmured as he gave the boy's back a rub. "Aye, I know all about Nana's and balls having. Our Ma' wouldnae be shy about taking balls." Iain listened to Ryan, glancing away briefly to watch his step so he didn't trip over, and drop his son, or anything. He wasn't about to fuck all this up by hurting the sick boy any more. He wanted his own balls in tact. "Makes sense to me. Nay that I've given much thought to children since I'm, ah... strictly into kilts," he finished, frowning as he tried to work out if the code even worked, and if he needed one in front of Hayden since there'd already been talk of flirting. Shit, maybe he should keep his mouth shut? He cleared his throat, and smiled again. "Sure, I can see that. I didnae ever have a reason to change it, though. I think it's important to make the changes when they're vital, and when there's something far more important in need of your attention. I'm a restaurant owner, but I like to spend a lot of time on the floor, so I usual work the same hours the place is opened, then there's the paperwork, and cash counts, and all those fun things. It's fine, we'll just shake on it a bit later. Nice to meet you, Ryan."
Ryan smirked, throwing Iain an amused look. "I deduced the kilt thing, dude," he told him, eyes once again reflexively dropping to his son to make sure he was alright. Hayden had his arms looped around Iain's neck, and Ryan was wondering how he could actually thank the guy for his help. He couldn't have anticipated the kid turning into a puke fountain just on the day his car had packed it in. Those single dad hands just some days weren't enough. "So, I take there is no husband or boyfriend waiting at home for you, considering you're in no rush to get there? Is it the obscure hours or you're just not on the market right now? Of course, you can tell me to shut the hell up at any point. You don't know me from dog's balls." They reached their block, a large, modern apartment complex taking up just about the entirely of it and Ryan started to dig around in his pockets awkward to find his keys. "This is us. Sixth floor, but thankfully the place has a lift."
Iain flushed a little, kicking himself. "Oh... right. 'Course you did. Sorry, I wasnae really... Guess sometimes I don't need to spell it out. No, there isnae anyone. Hasn't been a boyfriend for a couple of years. It didnae end well, guess I've just been trying to protect myself a bit. Taking my time in licking my wounds, and, ah, getting a few others to lick them for me. The obscure hours had a wee bit to do with it. I know it isnae everyone's cup of tea to sit at home without company in the evening. I was actually going to propose to the last bloke. He dumped me the same night I was ready to pop the question. Didnae even give much of an explanation..." He trailed off, frowning a little at the memory. "I think you'd still be better than dog's balls even if I dinnae know you." Iain glanced up at the building. It was definitely nice. Very nice. This guy had to be some kind of shift worker to swing an apartment in a place like this. "Lifts are always win."
"Damn, man. That's really harsh. I'm sorry about that. It can't have been an easy experience to notch up in the memory bank." Ryan managed to get his keys out, but he was only just keying in the security code for the main entrance, Hayden whimpered a weak 'daddy...' and Ryan only had enough time to gently catch his son's head and turn it away before he was sick again, this time covering the front steps of the apartment block. Thankfully Ryan's reflexes avoided Iain suffering the same fate again. "Jesus," Ryan murmured softly, pulling the same shredded tissue from his pocket to try and wipe Hayden's mouth again. The boy's head dropped tiredly back against Iain's shoulders as he closed his eyes. "I've always dabbled in the odd, er, kilt myself... are you just sure this is the sort of scenario you want to be flirting with?" he asked Iain wryly as he backed up, pushing the glass doors open with his ass.
Iain's stomach gave a sympathetic lurch when Hayden was sick again, and he started to rub the boy's back a little more gently this time. His gaze locked with Ryan's as he managed to step over the vomit, and into the building. Being rejected by John really had hurt, and he'd spent a lot of time and effort trying to keep everyone since at a distance, and strictly sexual partners, but for some reason Ryan was tweaking something inside him, and he had to admit Hayden was as well. He had no idea how the fuck he was going to cope with a kid, but he was doing okay so far, right? "Arenae I still here? I didnae have to help. Didnae have to carry him. Could've left you both back at the train and nay thought about it, but I flirted after I knew about the kid. Just saying. I just want to know if my kilt's one you want to dabble in."
Ryan made a note to let the janitor of the building know he needed to deal with the front steps and vowed to give the guy a big tip next time he saw him, even if he was already paying a healthy sum in strata fees to pay for the guy's wage. He was praying to all heavenly beings right now he had picked the apartment block with the lift. He was also desperately praying that if Hayden was going to spew again, he at least made it to the apartment and the bathroom and didn't choose the ride on the lift. He managed to pick up his pace a little at that notion, elbowing the up button and sighing in relief when the doors swung straight open. "I've got a lot of baggage," he finally responded, ironically, considering he had an armload of shit. He waited until Iain followed him into the elevator, nose scrunching up when the smell of sick became more prominent. "And I'm seriously not saying that to turn you off. I really do. Fatherhood is a challenge... single fatherhood is... not everyone's cup of tea."
"I can see that," Iain murmured, a small smile on his lips. It was a slight teasing comment. Still, he was there. He was holding Hayden, and he wasn't actually considering running away. At least not right then. "I got a pair of hands. Gives you two pairs to work with. I'm nay saying I'm going to be perfect at handling the baggage, but I can learn. I'll be honest and admit I dinnae even really know why I'm offering, but I just... ever have those moments where you just cannae really walk away from something? I think this is one of those. I need to seize the opportunity."
Ryan drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. He soon glanced at Iain and couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head. "You're a gem. Not many dudes like you in the world. At least, the assholes far outweigh you in numbers. I know I've said it before, but I do appreciate your help here. My awesome fatherly stamina really slips when the kid is sick, you know? Coping mechanisms fly right out the window in favour of those crap things called worry and panic. You probably know what I mean, having four younger brothers. But I know this isn't for the faint-hearted. Your standing there holding some strange dude's kid, covering in spew, and still not running away. Just... if the penny drops and you realise what you've stumbled into, you can do a bolt. I won't be offended. It wouldn't be the first time I've watched someone disappear and leave skidmarks on the floor they ran so quickly."
Iain broke out into a smile as he let out a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding. The smell of sick made his nostrils flare, but he ignored it. "You're welcome, and thanks for thinking I'm a gem. I promise if I bolt, I will at least tell you first. I wouldnae like to think I'd just disappear. It's nay fair. Not that it's any easier when people do tell you. Hurts either way. Besides, hopefully we willnae be strangers for much longer. Just tell me what you need me to do now."
"Well, I'm going to assume enough that if you got off our tube stop, you must live around here? So, I guess that's as good a start as any." The elevator dinged on the sixth floor and a few doors down up the hall, they were finally in the solace of home, and Hayden managed to hold off so far. "Right now, you could put the kettle on? I'm just going to dump this crap, get a change of clothes, find you some clean pants, and get Hayden cleaned up. Then maybe we can actually try that not-strangers thing." He unlocked the apartment door, pushing it open and revealing a modest, stylish apartment that was clearly the home of a kid with clothes, toys and other stuff strewn around the place. "Oh hell..." Ryan murmured, realised he hadn't had much time for housework that week. It wasn't usually an issue considering they didn't have a lot of visitors. If Hayden had a friend over, it was best to leave the place a mess anyway because it would end up that way by the end of the day anyway. He huffed out a breath, dumping the bags inside by the sofa and going back over to Iain and Hayden. "Come on kiddo, we'll get you into your jammies and find the hot water bottle for your belly. Do you want to lie on the sofa? Watch some cartoons?"
Hayden seemed reluctant to relinquish his hold on Iain. In fact, he did hesitate long enough for his big blue eyes to look Iain over analytically before he was handed over to his Dad's arms. "No," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around his Dad's neck and burying his face in against his shoulder for a hug. "I want my bed. I don't feel good, Daddy..."
Ryan rubbed the boy's back and kissed the top of his head. Now that he was close, he could actually feel his son was warm and likely sporting a fever. "I think bed's a good idea, sweetheart," he told him softly. This wasn't just a random upset stomach. No cartoons was serious, and Ryan was realising he might be a little more screwed than he realised. If Hayden was going to be sick for a few days, he had no one to take care of him and although his boss was understanding about an afternoon off, a few days could well be pushing it. When he looked at Iain over the top of Hayden's head, there was some lines of tension appearing across his forehead, but he managed another smile. "I'll be back, yeah? The kitchen shouldn't be too hard to navigate, make yourself at home, try not to break your neck on all this shit lying around. Sorry for the less than immaculate surroundings. It's usually not this bad. Oh, and the bathroom is first door down the hall if you need it. I'll get Hay washed up in my en suite. Just bear with me a bit longer, and I promise, I'll make it up to you for not doing a bolt once I can get him settled in bed," he told him with a laugh and then went into the kitchen, wrestling a bucket of cleaning products out from under the sink and dumping them all on the sideboard so he could take it with him in case Hayden was going to throw up again. For some reason, today felt like it had been about fifty hours long already.
Words: 7048
Gone With The Wind
Co-written with doctordefib
Ryan really, really hated the subway. He had hated it in America and he hated it just as much in London. There was no a single positive thing he could say about that form of public transport, yet sometimes, when the world seemed to explode around you, you found your ass planted firmly on a grimy subway train. He should have taken it as a bad sign when his car wouldn't start that morning. The piece of shit just wouldn't turn over and Ryan tried to make a concerted effort not to cuss profusely as he tried to get it to start on account of the fact his nine year old son was sitting beside him, watching with wide-eyed curiosity as if he was almost daring his dad to let the F word slip. It wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes it did just slip out, but Ryan tried to avoid it as much as he coul. He didn't want his kid growing up like white trash where every second word out of his mouth started with F or C. There wasn't even any solace that morning. Normally Ryan had the luxury of calling on Hayden's grandparents to bail him out when things got tough. They lived just a couple of suburbs over and had been absolutely priceless with how much they had helped him since he moved to London. Nothing was ever a trouble for them and they were always happy to take care of Hayden. Today wasn't one of those days. They were off on a well-deserving trip to Benidorm, so Ryan didn't have his lifeline to call on. He ended up opting for the subway to get Hayden to school on time. Even taking a cab would take too long in the morning rush hour.
He managed to get Hayden through the school gates in just a nick of time, calling out to him to not get into any mischief and remember to bring his gym bag back home with him. Gym day was always more hectic, trying to get two bags on the go, which is where the subway sucked even more. But it was a success, even if Ryan was well late to work himself. He was stressed out before he even made it to the office, only to be reminded of a meeting he had with an ex-patient and their family about something that happened on the ward before he even took the managerial position. He managed to get through it with a sympathetic understanding and set the wheels in motion for the starts of a resolution. It was a successful outcome mostly, and the day went a little smoother after that. At least, it did until he got a call from Hayden's teacher at school saying the kid had thrown up in gym class and needed to go home. Normally at this juncture, Ryan would call in the grandparental back up and Nana and Granddad would swoop in to the rescue until Ryan finished work. Not such luck. Benidorm.
This meant Ryan had to finish work early - and extremely apologetically - but his boss luckily understood and with kids of her own, was sympathetic to his plight. But he was in the middle of a project on patient flow analysis and the data needed to be submitted before close of business in two days time. He really, really couldn't afford to just skive off work for a whole afternoon or he would never get the work done. So he back up a stack of folders, books, and documents into a a couple of plastic bags, grabbed up his briefcase and rushed out of his office with his arms laden with hopes he could see to the outstanding work later that night. Hopefully the kid would be okay. Ryan hated when his boy was ill, it was the worse friggen part about parenting. You hurt when they hurt, and even though he was a doctor, when your own kid was sick, it wasn't always easy. You still panicked like normal parents, and still worried your ass off. It was only when he got out onto the busy London street that he rememebered he didn't have his car, and then, without nine year old ears as witness, he let fly with a string of colourful expletives that didn't make him feel any better when he was done. He opted for a cab, but it took him ages to get one and by the time he bundled Hayden up from the school nurse, he figured the subway was the lesser of two evils right now. Hayden still looked green around the gills and was clinging to his Dad for comfort. But now Ryan had his briefcase, his plastic bags full of work, Hayden's school bag, Hayden's gym bag and Hayden all hanging off him in some capacity. He barely made it through the train doors before they swung closed again and nearly caught his butt cheeks in the onslaught. He caught another swear word just before it fell from his lips, and then looked around the carriage, red-faced, panting and feeling more than a little harrassed.
No seats.
Of course there were no fucking seats! They seemed to be filled with little old ladies and men on their way to bingo who wouldn't give up their seat to anyone because they were entitled to it, especially not someone in their thirties, nevermind the fact he was about to explode from stress. Hayden seemed to realised the same fate simultaneous to his dad, and leaned tiredly and heavily against Ryan's leg, arm curled around his waist. It wasn't like the kid to lack energy like this. Ryan fough the urge to shoot all the old-age pensioners Death Glares and then stooped down to his son's eye level, juggling the bag so he could ruffle Hayden's hair a little. "You alright, buddy? It's just a few stops, kiddo. On a scale of one to ten, what's the chances of you barfing again?" He really wasn't sure what he was going to do if the kid said ten. He was literally up shit creek without a paddle and the floor of the train would just have to cop it. Hayden merely shrugged listlessly and rested his forehead against Ryan's chest. Ryan straightened up again with a sigh, hugging his arm around his son's shoulder, trying to reassure him it would be okay. He could feel the old people watching him, even more so when he fumbled with Ryan's school bag, dropped it and watched in horror as the entire contents, including a soggy sandwich from four days ago spilled out all over the floor. And the old bastards just sat there... and continued to not shift ass out of the seats.
Iain wanted a nap. His eyes had been drifting closed since the last stop, his body giving up in the face of working during the day, and not at night like he normally would. One of the supposed benefits while his new bistro was being renovated and created was that he could get away with "early" shifts. The kind that didn't mean he finished work at two in the morning, or something other ridiculous hour. Only his body was actually used to those hours, and getting up at five in the morning when he would normally only just be getting to sleep was messing with his head.
He snuffled as he opened his eyes again, and ruffled his brown hair as he looked around. He hadn't really noticed the guy and his kid get on, but he did notice the rather questionable sandwich that was now at his feet. One look at the kid and he didn't need to know anything past the green colour he was sporting. No kid was supposed to be that kind of green, right? He remembered Stuart looking like that once when he was younger, and he just knew this kid was doomed. Which meant the dad probably was, too. Iain still didn't look up as he automatically crouched down to pick up the kid's belongings and stuff them back into the bag. He was trying to be careful, and admittedly he had seen worse rotten food than the soggy sandwich, but he also figured he couldn't really do any more damage. He glanced up at the kid, and gave him a crooked smile. "Hope you werenae eating that thing, kiddo. No wonder you're looking a wee bit peaky. Get your Dad to give you something a little bit nicer, aye? Maybe some hot chicken soup. Always did my brothers the world of good." Iain gave the kid a friendly wink. "Even puts hairs on your chest if you make it right."
Probably in any other circumstance, Ryan would be giving Hayden a gentle nudge right now and prompting him to say thank you. Not that he had to do that much, the kid had pristine manners and Ryan often got complemented on it. But he figured it was safer if his son's mouth remained firmly closed for the moment and he went to lean over to try and assist in scooping the school crap back up into the bag, but as he did, the gym bag prompt flopped off his shoulder and banged him in the face, almost knocking him off balance. "Jesus Christ," he cursed, a small part of him hoping one of the old people was a Christian, just so he ruined their day too a little. It really wasn't his fucking day at all. "His Dad's cooking will probably just make him worse," he had to offer wryly, forced to stand back up again. He didn't care what anyone said, he dumped the bags on the floor for the moment so he could crouch down to help the guy. The mess was his issue anyway. A Ferrari lunch box was shoved back into the bag along with Hayden's art book and pencil case. "Thanks, dude. I'm sorry. You have no idea how much I appreciate the help."
"Nay bother," Iain automatically returned. He'd watched the poor bloke get smacked in the face with the gym bag, and now Iain had the odd sense he'd just been smacked in the face. Tall, dark, and handsome. Just the way he liked them. He cleared his throat, trying not to seem like he was checking out the kid's father too obviously. There was probably a missus waiting at home, all naked and womanly. Iain hated women. At least the ones that got all the good looking blokes before he had a chance to turn them gay if they weren't already. He dropped his gaze back down to the floor of the train, trying to see if there was anything else that needed to be shoved back in the bag. "Sorry there isnae any cape, and underpants to go with saving the day, but I dinnae want to scare kids. I can work boxer-briefs, but jocks have nay ever been my thing." Even as it tumbled out of his mouth, Iain wanted to smack himself in the forehead. The poor guy didn't need that kind of information, did he? Iain's other head was already starting to drain all the blood flow south so he said dumb things. "I havenae killed anyone yet with my cooking, but then I've nay kids to feed. For all I know my recipes arenae kid friendly."
As soon as Ryan managed to get the bag righted, and with the pensioners still gawping at the free show, he threw it back over his shoulder and then had to do a quick check to make sure his confidential work papers hadn't taken the same fate as the school bag. They all seemed neatly tucked in the plastic bags. At least, as neatly tucked as something could be in a Tesco bag. Hayden's arm snaked back around his dad's waist, and Ryan was once again looking down to make sure the boy was okay. He was really out of sorts and it was unnerving for Ryan. Maybe getting him home in front of the TV with a hot water bottle would do the trick. Hopefully. He realised then what the guy had said and smirked. "Well, could be why I've always been a firm supporter of nudity in general," he returned. "No dealing with elastic, less laundry, save on laundry liquid. Ten points for being able to cook something edible, though. Not that I can't cook, I sort of had to learn real quick, but I'm no Jamie Oliver. Basic... enough not to starve." The train pulled up at the stop before their place and Ryan couldn't stifle a sigh of relief. He gave Hayden's shoulders a soft squeeze of encouragement. Poor kid. Who wanted to deal with being dragged onto a subway train when you felt sick? It was only then that Ryan managed to have a moment to notice the guy's appearance. Nice. Very nice, actually. Ryan flashed him a small smile, even if it was on the stressed, frazzled side.
Iain's eyebrows knitted with concern as his gaze flicked between child, and parent, but they stayed locked on the father's eyes for a moment before he found himself smiling back. Something sparked inside him, and he even looked a little embarrassed at the mention of Jamie Oliver. He couldn't help that his last association with the Naked Chef was sitting in front of the TV naked, and stroking himself. He'd been bored, horny, and hungry. Somehow getting off to a cooking show and seemed like a good idea no matter what excuses he'd made to his little brother. His tongue ran over his lips and straightened up to his full height as he reached up to grab one a part of the pole overhead. The safety handles were usually too low for him, so he just went straight to the source. He ducked his head for a quick look out the doors as they opened, making sure it was definitely the stop before his. "What kind of points do I get for being able to cook something edible in the nude? You know, for future reference... There's nothing wrong with knowing enough to eat for survival. I'm hardly a Michelin star chef. Just know a few things or two to make things taste a little more... delicious. I blame my Ma'. Cannae eat anything that doesnae at least taste like she cooked it. I think I even had a wooden spoon to the backside once for putting the wrong spices in something once."
"Points will probably be the least of your worries if your tackle gets splashed with hot oil," Ryan had to reason, smirking. His shoulders were killing him, and he reaslised just how buggered all the running around had made him. He had started the day at five o'clock and now that felt like a lifetime ago, even if it was just after lunch, give or take. The Scottish accent wasn't lost on him. It was still something that awed Ryan, even though he had been living in London for five years now. He had been to Scotland for a visit a few times and loved it, had even been tempted to move there with Hayden, but he hadn't wanted to uproot the kid in the middle of his schooling, so London it was. He still couldn't believe after the whole fiasco still no one had relinquished their seat, at least for the kid, who clearly wasn't well. English people might be a little more polite than Americans, but they definitely weren't deserving of any Sainthoods. It didn't matter anymore, though. They were nearly home, and Ryan couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to get in his front door this badly. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? Scottish parents are that strict?"
"It hasnae happened yet. I'm always sure to point the tackle away from the hot oil. That's how much experience I have," Iain replied as he smirked back. His gaze dropped to the other man's mouth briefly, and he really was trying desperately to imagine some wife waiting for the father at home in lingerie just to stop from wanting to jump his American bones. Iain had never thought he'd ever fancy a yank as much as he did right that moment. "I was only having a wee bit of a lend. She didnae really smack me as punishment, more a motherly tap to serve as a reminder. Scottish mothers dinnae ever let sons get away with anything, but they arenae so strict as to use corporal punishment on them for getting something like a spice wrong. Maybe for showing their tackle to the tenth grade assembly, but that's about it."
This actually caused Hayden to look up at the guy with a slight hint of curiosity under the pallor. Just because he was only nine didn't mean he wasn't always breeding a healthy dose of deviant testosterone in there somewhere, god forbid. Ryan threaded his fingers through his son's hair. "Don't even think about it, kiddo. Only Scottish lads are allowed to get their tackle out in public. Make sure you remember that." He did not need to be dragged into the principal's office at some point in the distant future to sheepishly explain why his son was sharing his assets with the world at large... even if his father was in no way opposed to kilts. The train pulled to a stop at their suburb, and even though Ryan nearly went ass over tit again when he lost his balance with only the window to hold him up, he wanted to jump onto the platform and kiss the wall or something he was so glad to see it. "Can you do me a favour and hold the door? This is our stop," he explained to the guy, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck on the chivalry. He gathered up all his shit, juggling it into his arms and trying to shuffle Hayden towards the door. The kid was waning even more and Ryan was even wondering if he was going to need to carry him to their apartment, or if he should maybe stop at Boots and pick up some supplies from the pharmacy. "But cheers extensively for the help. Sometimes one pair of hands isn't enough. Actually, scratch that. Most of the time one pair of hands isn't enough."
Iain had given the kid another wink at the warning, more than willing to subtly enable a future deviant if he needed to. There was nothing wrong with a boy getting his tackle out in a public place so long as it was all in good fun, and not an act of true perversity. Then his eyebrows went up, and he started to chuckle. "Seriously? This is my stop too, so I can do more than hold the door open, buddy. You need to take the kid, or the bags? Assuming the wee lad doesnae mind me carrying him, and it's alright with you. I promise I'm nay trying to take off with him, or anything, My name's Iain Evans. My little brother's a cop, so you can check up on me if you need to. Feel free to also get the hot oil out and splash my tackle as punishment if I do anything dodgy."
Having good timing really wasn't something Ryan could claim in the Bailey genes. He generally never had the luck of good timing, and even had foot-in-mouth syndrome occasionally. He blamed the Military, even though he couldn't put his finger on why. Whatever it was, he passed it onto his son and as soon as the word 'dodgy' came out of Iain's mouth, Hayden promptly and spectacularly threw up all over himself, Ryan, and one of Iain's legs. The floor of the station copped the rest of it, and the only thing Ryan could think of initially was that he hadn't fed his kid that much in a month, let alone one day. Had he? He closed his eyes briefly. "Dude, I'm so sorry!" he said in a panic when the initial shock wore off. "Seriously, like, especially if that was flirting or something, because that really sucks and I'm sorry." He produced some tissues from the pocket of his jacket, but what the hell was a couple of pissy Kleenex going to do? Fuck all. He settled on trying to wipe Hayden's mouth, trying to keep a hold of all the bag hung off his arms, and simultaneously trying to keep the kid bent over if he wasn't done. Also, why did it suddenly seem that today, the whole world was fucking gawping at him? "Listen, we just live literally a block from here. Come back and I'll... I dunno... give you a beer? Clean pants? Hot oil?"
"I--" Iain was dumbfounded at first, not so much because the kid had exploded all over everything, and his leg, but more because Ryan seemed to be referring to flirting, and now Iain wasn't so sure what it had been. "No, I'm sorry. I didnae mean to incidentally flirt with you. Not that I wouldn't! Just your wee boy's sick, and you're heading home and there weren't any... signals, and I'm nay a pervert!" He felt the need to add before deciding that he really could help just by taking Hayden in his arms when it seemed the boy was done. His leg was already covered, it wasn't going to hurt if his shoulder got covered to. He cradled the boy carefully against him, still watching the other man to see if he was about to get belted for stepping in unasked. "I'll take the first two, but there's nay need for hot oil. Cannae stand the idea of anything being burned before it has a chance to be used."
Ryan just blinked in surprise as the guy seemed to naturally know what to do to help. "I thought you said you didn't have kids?" he found himself asking. His hand had come to rest over his forehead, it even lost on him that Hayden wasn't protesting. He seemed to be watching to see how his dad would react, and Ryan knew that it meant he liked the guy. Which was okay, because Ryan liked the guy too, even if he didn't know him. He was just bewildered and stressed out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume you were flirting. This isn't my day, as you can probably guess, and you've been caught up in it. Fuck, I'm really sorry... at risk of sounding like a broken record. But I can do the beer and the pants. Cup of tea, maybe? I just need the lad home. Apparently there is some freaky bug going around the school. Would have been nice to know in advance, but hey, they seem to expect parents to be mindreaders. Like knowing they should friggen wear black shoes and not grey or whatever the fuck. Unless... shit, do you have somewhere to be? I'm sorry, there I go with the assuming again. I'm seriously not this screwed in the head." Then he realised he had broken the swear rule about a billion times in one breath and his fingers moved from his forehead to his lips as he looked sheepishly at his son.
"I dinnae, just four younger brothers. I'm nay a stranger to needing to take care of a lad. If you had a wee lassie, it'd be different," Iain revealed with a cheeky grin. He was starting to relax now he knew he was helping, and he wasn't the only one flustered. The poor guy just needed a break, and Iain wanted to help. "And at the risk of maybe making your day suck more... I was flirting. Just a wee bit. Couldnae help myself, I just dinnae want it to be something to make the day worse. Nay anything worse than being hit on when you dinnae want it." Iain managed to hang onto the boy with one arm as he reached out to give Ryan's arm a reassuring squeeze before guiding him further up the platform. "It sounds more like I should be making you the tea, mate. Dinnae worry, or go to any bother. It's really nay trouble at all. I've got nowhere to be for now."
"Four? Fu- bloody hell," Ryan said, managing to catch himself just in time. "I think I only have enough stamina for one kid." Man, he wanted to be home. He still wasn't sure how he managed to pick someone up along the way who wanted to so readily help him. As a single father used to dealing on his own, he wasn't used to people just freely offering their services. And now it seemed there were more services on offer than he initially thought. It wasn't like he was foreign to being flirted with by a male, which it probably why he had picked up on it. He had never been shy of his sexuality, and even Hayden knew his Dad occasionally spent time with men, as well as women. It was just the norm for them. Not that Ryan had dabbled in a long time. He couldn't remember the last time he got laid. It was months and months ago, when Hayden went away to Ireland with his grandparents for the school holidays. Ryan had spent a couple of nights with one of the secretaries at the hospital, but it was mutual agreement that it was just sex. She didn't want to ultimately date a guy with a kid, and Ryan had reciprocated by telling her he wasn't looking for a mother for his son. It didn't really end civilly, but it was mutual. He tried not to let his feet drag as he checked his watch when they exited the train station. He was covered in spew, his shoulders were aching from the additional weight, and he really did just want to get home so he could analyse closer how Hayden was. First stop would be a change of clothes and a quick wash. Second stop would be thermometers and buckets. He walked in close vicinity of Iain with Hayden, rubbing his kid's back. "How old is your youngest brother? I'm an only, parents probably figured I was enough of a handful to stop at. I just wanted to say again that I appreciate all this. I don't usually bother with the trains, but my car wouldn't start this morning and it was the start of a crap day in general. Hayden was fine this morning, which means Dad worries even more when it comes out of the blue. And just for the record, it didn't make my day worse. It's just been awhile since I was on the receiving end of anything like it."
Iain gave a nod as he laughed again. "Aye, four. I take it you dinnae like swearing in front of the kid? I'll be sure to watch my mouth around him. Has he got a name? Do you have a name for that matter? We could maybe try introductions again now the wee lad's taking a break from explosive bodily fluids. I dinnae blame you for thinking you'd nay handle more than one. Still dinnae know how our parents did it. Especially with all boys. We would've driven them all around the bend. None of us were particularly well behaved when together. I'm probably the quietest of all of them, but still have my moments. Stuart's twenty-eight." Iain was still watching the father to make sure he wasn't going to collapse. He wasn't short of muscle, but Iain really wasn't sure he could handle carrying them both. He waved his hand slightly, trying to indicate he could handle a couple of the bags as well as the boy. "I'm still under the misapprehension that me travelling on a train when I can will save the environment. It's a different story when I'm doing my actual work, and nay just twiddling my balls waiting around. I work a lot of nights, and I've nay wish to tempt fate by travelling on the train. I'm sorry your luck hasnae been the best, and I'm really sorry you got ninja sick kid. They cannae be too easy to cope with."
Ryan pressed his lips together wryly. "He's only nine. Hayden's his name. I'm trying to be good. His Nana would have my balls if he starts cussing before he hits ten," he said with a small snort of a laugh. It was true, she would probably give him a good whack with the wooden spoon if Hayden's language went down the toilet. He squinted a little in the bright, spring sun. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to give him a brother or sister one day, but it's..." he paused, knowing Hayden was listening and he had to choose his words carefully so the poor kid didn't feel like his Dad didn't want him. "I only have one pair of hands. One kid per pair of hands sounds like a good world plan to me. I also don't envy your night work. I used to do that myself and I always had trouble sleeping in the day when..." He discreetly pointed to Hayden behind his back where he couldn't see, indicating that it was trying to be a shifter worker with a kid. "As horrible as it sounds, I only have time to worry about my environment and not anyone else's so I'm going to have to firmly stamp on the carbon footprint or whatever the hell they call it or I'd never get to work on time. What is it you do? Oh, and I'm Ryan. Ryan Bailey. I'd shake your hand if I had one free."
"Nice to meet you, Hayden," Iain murmured as he gave the boy's back a rub. "Aye, I know all about Nana's and balls having. Our Ma' wouldnae be shy about taking balls." Iain listened to Ryan, glancing away briefly to watch his step so he didn't trip over, and drop his son, or anything. He wasn't about to fuck all this up by hurting the sick boy any more. He wanted his own balls in tact. "Makes sense to me. Nay that I've given much thought to children since I'm, ah... strictly into kilts," he finished, frowning as he tried to work out if the code even worked, and if he needed one in front of Hayden since there'd already been talk of flirting. Shit, maybe he should keep his mouth shut? He cleared his throat, and smiled again. "Sure, I can see that. I didnae ever have a reason to change it, though. I think it's important to make the changes when they're vital, and when there's something far more important in need of your attention. I'm a restaurant owner, but I like to spend a lot of time on the floor, so I usual work the same hours the place is opened, then there's the paperwork, and cash counts, and all those fun things. It's fine, we'll just shake on it a bit later. Nice to meet you, Ryan."
Ryan smirked, throwing Iain an amused look. "I deduced the kilt thing, dude," he told him, eyes once again reflexively dropping to his son to make sure he was alright. Hayden had his arms looped around Iain's neck, and Ryan was wondering how he could actually thank the guy for his help. He couldn't have anticipated the kid turning into a puke fountain just on the day his car had packed it in. Those single dad hands just some days weren't enough. "So, I take there is no husband or boyfriend waiting at home for you, considering you're in no rush to get there? Is it the obscure hours or you're just not on the market right now? Of course, you can tell me to shut the hell up at any point. You don't know me from dog's balls." They reached their block, a large, modern apartment complex taking up just about the entirely of it and Ryan started to dig around in his pockets awkward to find his keys. "This is us. Sixth floor, but thankfully the place has a lift."
Iain flushed a little, kicking himself. "Oh... right. 'Course you did. Sorry, I wasnae really... Guess sometimes I don't need to spell it out. No, there isnae anyone. Hasn't been a boyfriend for a couple of years. It didnae end well, guess I've just been trying to protect myself a bit. Taking my time in licking my wounds, and, ah, getting a few others to lick them for me. The obscure hours had a wee bit to do with it. I know it isnae everyone's cup of tea to sit at home without company in the evening. I was actually going to propose to the last bloke. He dumped me the same night I was ready to pop the question. Didnae even give much of an explanation..." He trailed off, frowning a little at the memory. "I think you'd still be better than dog's balls even if I dinnae know you." Iain glanced up at the building. It was definitely nice. Very nice. This guy had to be some kind of shift worker to swing an apartment in a place like this. "Lifts are always win."
"Damn, man. That's really harsh. I'm sorry about that. It can't have been an easy experience to notch up in the memory bank." Ryan managed to get his keys out, but he was only just keying in the security code for the main entrance, Hayden whimpered a weak 'daddy...' and Ryan only had enough time to gently catch his son's head and turn it away before he was sick again, this time covering the front steps of the apartment block. Thankfully Ryan's reflexes avoided Iain suffering the same fate again. "Jesus," Ryan murmured softly, pulling the same shredded tissue from his pocket to try and wipe Hayden's mouth again. The boy's head dropped tiredly back against Iain's shoulders as he closed his eyes. "I've always dabbled in the odd, er, kilt myself... are you just sure this is the sort of scenario you want to be flirting with?" he asked Iain wryly as he backed up, pushing the glass doors open with his ass.
Iain's stomach gave a sympathetic lurch when Hayden was sick again, and he started to rub the boy's back a little more gently this time. His gaze locked with Ryan's as he managed to step over the vomit, and into the building. Being rejected by John really had hurt, and he'd spent a lot of time and effort trying to keep everyone since at a distance, and strictly sexual partners, but for some reason Ryan was tweaking something inside him, and he had to admit Hayden was as well. He had no idea how the fuck he was going to cope with a kid, but he was doing okay so far, right? "Arenae I still here? I didnae have to help. Didnae have to carry him. Could've left you both back at the train and nay thought about it, but I flirted after I knew about the kid. Just saying. I just want to know if my kilt's one you want to dabble in."
Ryan made a note to let the janitor of the building know he needed to deal with the front steps and vowed to give the guy a big tip next time he saw him, even if he was already paying a healthy sum in strata fees to pay for the guy's wage. He was praying to all heavenly beings right now he had picked the apartment block with the lift. He was also desperately praying that if Hayden was going to spew again, he at least made it to the apartment and the bathroom and didn't choose the ride on the lift. He managed to pick up his pace a little at that notion, elbowing the up button and sighing in relief when the doors swung straight open. "I've got a lot of baggage," he finally responded, ironically, considering he had an armload of shit. He waited until Iain followed him into the elevator, nose scrunching up when the smell of sick became more prominent. "And I'm seriously not saying that to turn you off. I really do. Fatherhood is a challenge... single fatherhood is... not everyone's cup of tea."
"I can see that," Iain murmured, a small smile on his lips. It was a slight teasing comment. Still, he was there. He was holding Hayden, and he wasn't actually considering running away. At least not right then. "I got a pair of hands. Gives you two pairs to work with. I'm nay saying I'm going to be perfect at handling the baggage, but I can learn. I'll be honest and admit I dinnae even really know why I'm offering, but I just... ever have those moments where you just cannae really walk away from something? I think this is one of those. I need to seize the opportunity."
Ryan drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. He soon glanced at Iain and couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head. "You're a gem. Not many dudes like you in the world. At least, the assholes far outweigh you in numbers. I know I've said it before, but I do appreciate your help here. My awesome fatherly stamina really slips when the kid is sick, you know? Coping mechanisms fly right out the window in favour of those crap things called worry and panic. You probably know what I mean, having four younger brothers. But I know this isn't for the faint-hearted. Your standing there holding some strange dude's kid, covering in spew, and still not running away. Just... if the penny drops and you realise what you've stumbled into, you can do a bolt. I won't be offended. It wouldn't be the first time I've watched someone disappear and leave skidmarks on the floor they ran so quickly."
Iain broke out into a smile as he let out a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding. The smell of sick made his nostrils flare, but he ignored it. "You're welcome, and thanks for thinking I'm a gem. I promise if I bolt, I will at least tell you first. I wouldnae like to think I'd just disappear. It's nay fair. Not that it's any easier when people do tell you. Hurts either way. Besides, hopefully we willnae be strangers for much longer. Just tell me what you need me to do now."
"Well, I'm going to assume enough that if you got off our tube stop, you must live around here? So, I guess that's as good a start as any." The elevator dinged on the sixth floor and a few doors down up the hall, they were finally in the solace of home, and Hayden managed to hold off so far. "Right now, you could put the kettle on? I'm just going to dump this crap, get a change of clothes, find you some clean pants, and get Hayden cleaned up. Then maybe we can actually try that not-strangers thing." He unlocked the apartment door, pushing it open and revealing a modest, stylish apartment that was clearly the home of a kid with clothes, toys and other stuff strewn around the place. "Oh hell..." Ryan murmured, realised he hadn't had much time for housework that week. It wasn't usually an issue considering they didn't have a lot of visitors. If Hayden had a friend over, it was best to leave the place a mess anyway because it would end up that way by the end of the day anyway. He huffed out a breath, dumping the bags inside by the sofa and going back over to Iain and Hayden. "Come on kiddo, we'll get you into your jammies and find the hot water bottle for your belly. Do you want to lie on the sofa? Watch some cartoons?"
Hayden seemed reluctant to relinquish his hold on Iain. In fact, he did hesitate long enough for his big blue eyes to look Iain over analytically before he was handed over to his Dad's arms. "No," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around his Dad's neck and burying his face in against his shoulder for a hug. "I want my bed. I don't feel good, Daddy..."
Ryan rubbed the boy's back and kissed the top of his head. Now that he was close, he could actually feel his son was warm and likely sporting a fever. "I think bed's a good idea, sweetheart," he told him softly. This wasn't just a random upset stomach. No cartoons was serious, and Ryan was realising he might be a little more screwed than he realised. If Hayden was going to be sick for a few days, he had no one to take care of him and although his boss was understanding about an afternoon off, a few days could well be pushing it. When he looked at Iain over the top of Hayden's head, there was some lines of tension appearing across his forehead, but he managed another smile. "I'll be back, yeah? The kitchen shouldn't be too hard to navigate, make yourself at home, try not to break your neck on all this shit lying around. Sorry for the less than immaculate surroundings. It's usually not this bad. Oh, and the bathroom is first door down the hall if you need it. I'll get Hay washed up in my en suite. Just bear with me a bit longer, and I promise, I'll make it up to you for not doing a bolt once I can get him settled in bed," he told him with a laugh and then went into the kitchen, wrestling a bucket of cleaning products out from under the sink and dumping them all on the sideboard so he could take it with him in case Hayden was going to throw up again. For some reason, today felt like it had been about fifty hours long already.
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