Fics like people throw rocks at things that shine

“You’re in pain,” Ryan says gently. “I’m British,” Oliver replies lightly. “Having a stiff upper lip about these sorts of things is sort of our brand, so if you could leave me in peace to be British, that would be great.” Oliver gasps out the last few words of his sarcastic joke because he got hit with a major wave of pain shooting down to the bottoms of his toes. “Okay,” Oliver glares. “I am in pain.” Ryan doesn’t smile this time; he is all too used to Oliver deflecting with a joke. Instead, Ryan reaches over and rests his hand briefly on Oliver’s leg above his knee. Oliver feels the heat of his hand on his thigh, and though it doesn’t ease the pain, it does help something inside Oliver thaw just a bit. He swallows and tries to remain perfectly still – worrying that if he moves even a millimeter in any direction, Ryan will realise what he was doing and move his hand back to a safer, more ambiguous space. A space that didn’t lead to questions or answers. Or, Ryliver is stuck in Nashville during the storm, Oliver is having a chronic pain flare-up, and they finally talk about it.

Fics like people throw rocks at things that shine

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