Ryden Oneshots

By Small and Simple Things (1)

“Jon,” Ryan says, starting out carefully so as not to offend Jon. It’s a beautiful box, despite it’s weathering, but seriously, “What is it?” 

“It’s a music box,” Jon says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then he frowns a little and scratches the back of his neck. “At least, I think it’s a music box. There’s a little hole in the back where I think a winder used to be, and I can’t get it open. But it looks cool, right? All old and shit?” 

“Where did you get it?” Ryan asks curiously because really, the box is beautiful and it doesn’t have to be in pristine condition for Ryan to admire it or wonder where it came from. 

Jon chuckles and says, “I don’t really remember. Some old antique place down the block from my house. The guy that sold it to me said it had only been in the shop for a few weeks; said some guy from the jazz club brought it in for cash. I bought myself an old Polaroid there,” he says and digs an ancient looking camera out of a small bag inside his suitcase. “S’pretty cool, I thought.” 

Ryan smoothes over the box another time, fingers tripping over the small clasp at the front that seems to be sealing the box shut. It doesn’t look that old, just weathered and dulled. Still, it’s beautiful and Jon’s gesture still stands as thoughtful. 

“Thanks, Jon,” Ryan says, tearing his eyes off his gift. “It’s really nice.” 

“Sorry it doesn’t like, open. Or, um. Work. But I figured you could decorate with it, or- something. I don’t know, Ross. Use your domestic imagination and find a use for it,” Jon smirks and Ryan knows it’s a light jab at the current obsession he has with having a fixture - or a bowl or a picture frame or a lamp - on every available surface of his house, but he smiles. 

“Will do,” Ryan says, tucking the box under his arm carefully. He throws a side glance at Spencer who hasn’t stopped looking at Jon since he arrived because Jon is here and it’s not every day that Spencer can just look at him, so. Ryan drums his fingers along the top of the box and says, “Let’s go get your luggage, Santa Clause. We have an hour to make our dinner reservations and I’ll have your head if you cause me to miss out on Thai food.” 

Jon laughs, crisp and answering and he and Spencer let Ryan lead the way to baggage claim. 

Jon tells them over dinner that he’s planning on staying for two weeks, if they’ll have him. Spencer throws a piece of stir fry at him and says, “Now you’re staying three for doubting our hospitality, douche.” Jon’s smile is radiant. 

Ryan invites Jon and Spencer over for a few beers and Jon watches with amusement as Ryan tries hide the shade of red tainting his cheeks as he turns circles in his living room for a place to put his gift (seriously, every available surface). Jon tells him to stop worrying and start drinking in so many words and forces Ryan to put the box on the counter for the time being. 

They fish three beers out of Ryan’s fridge and talk about nothing and everything until Ryan’s clean out of alcohol and it’s two in the morning. Jon says, “Hey Spen-” and Spencer says, “Of course,” and they both give Ryan hugs before leaving Ryan with the lingering warmth of his couch. 

---- 

On Thursday, Jon says, “Dude, when did you organize your pantry? It looks good.” And, no. That’s weird because Ryan doesn’t know the meaning of the word organize. 

Ryan meets Jon’s impressed gaze at the pantry door and sees his boxed foods are not only pulled to the very front and into view, but also descending in order from tallest to smallest, almost like a staircase. It actually does look really good - and fuck, where have those oatmeal cream pies been? - but still. It’s weird because Ryan never touches his pantry unless it’s to rifle through it and after that, it stays messy. So for things to be in an actual row, aligned and attractive, Ryan questions his sanity, because he doesn’t remember being suddenly concerned with the placement of his food.