-1Title: Action and Reaction
Rating: Teen
Summary: In which Troy believes he is losing his mind, and Ryan lays down the law.
Notes: A little optimism never physically hurt anyone.
Warnings: A bit of sexual innuendo.
Disclaimer: I own it like I own Santa.
Chapter Six: Reality
They were running--frolicking even. The park's field was wide, open and every bit as inviting as the couple needed it to be. Springtime flowers were heavily in bloom, especially the pretty daisies that he knew she liked so much. They were scattered generously around them and he scooped down to tug a few free of the ground and into his hand. One he pressed into her hand, and the other he placed delicately above her ear. Her scent and that of the flower's bled together to overwhelm his senses.
Bluebirds, Robins, and other colorful birds chirped presently and flew above them. The sun beat down warm on them, but never hard enough to burn, creating the perfect spring day with an accompanied light breeze. The sound of children just across a dirt path at the nearby playground, the sound of children laughing penetrated the ears, and it seemed they too agreed. The April day was surely as perfect as days came.
She was running next to him with a smile that easily our shined the bright sun. By his side she jumped, twirled and cart-wheeled, dancing with her arms held high. Her pretty yellow sundress flowed with her in a hypnotic fashion, dotting his vision with splashes of yellow and orange. It fitted her body firmly, but fluffed out at the bottom in dazzling patterns when she moved, greatly complimenting her form. He thought it was the prettiest dress she owned, and looking down at his own plain jeans and tee-shirt, he almost felt as if he were shaming her.
Still, as beautiful as the dress made her look, he rather liked the diamond on her finger even more. I sparkled loudly, as if proclaiming to the world that she was his now. But it wasn't a symbol of ownership, far from it, in fact. It was a message of commitment, one that screamed just as loudly that they were made for each other, in a grand plan, destiny sort of way. Thusly, she wore it proudly, not in the least concerned at its small size, or how little it must have cost him. When she looked at the diamond, she didn't see the size, he could tell that much. Her damp eyes and slightly smudged eyeliner said she'd wear anything he gave her, as long as it came from his heart.
He pulled her close and whispered to her, "I love you," then screamed it aloud after a split second consideration. It was no secret, everyone had the right to know. He grabbed her hand and they ran on.
When they cleared the thicket of bright flowers, he swung her lithe form up into his arms with a mock battle cry. Without warning he spun them in short circles, eliciting cries of joy from her.
As she grew steadily more dizzy, her voice softened and she said, "Enough already." She tightened her arms around his neck, feet kicking happily. "Mercy!"
He was growing extremely uneasy on his feet, but held out, commanding, "Say it!"
"Never!" Her face pressed into his shoulder to block out the spinning world.
"Say it!"
"Make me!"
His knees finally gave out and he dropped her as softly as he cold manage onto the green grass. He crumbled on top of her, their chests heaving together for precious oxygen. "Say it," he urged breathlessly, one last time. "Come on, just say it."
Her brown eyes crinkled humorously in defeat. "Troy Bolton is the NBA first round draft pick."
"And?" He tickled her sides relentlessly.
"And he's the most handsome man ever."
"And?"
Flushed in the face she fought off his fingers. "And what?"
They molded together, cushioned by the grass. He shrugged, smiling wide. "And nothing." He dropped his head low and stole a sweet kiss. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
She launched forward, rolling them over so he was on his back and she sat upon his chest. "You're infuriating, you know that, right? You, Mr. Bolton, are impossible some times."
He thought she looked like an angel with the sun streaming down and framing her face. She was downright gorgeous. "Then you'd better get used to it."
Her eyes seemed to mist over as she brought her left hand up and gazed down at the ring he'd given her. "I guess I'd better, especially if I'm going to be Gabriella Bolton."
"I wouldn't have anyone else," he told her, curling upward. He kissed her soundly in the park, with the sun high and the birds loud. He kissed her with the children playing and the parents watching. He kissed her with every intent to marry her.
Then he came awake harder then he'd ever before. Air caught in his throat, his muscles clamped down and a sledgehammer pounded into his brain. Frozen with tingling fear, he worked quickly to associate himself with his surroundings, and away from what he now knew to be a dream.
There was a warm weight on his chest, that spread out to his arms and halfway down his legs. Looking down, even in the dark of the room, he could see Sharpay, resting gently against him. He was in her bedroom, he realized, in her apartment. Worried about waking her, he forced is body to relax back onto her soft bed, and kept his arms still around her.
Rain pounded on her window, thunder crashing in the distance. A quick burst of lightening illuminated the tastefully decorated room and gave him a clear picture of the serene look gracing her face. He thought maybe it was the poor lighting, but she still looked a little too pale for him. He'd been firmly against her coming home early, but his want to please her had easily won out, and he'd decided to stand behind her and support her early release.
They'd arrived home from the hospital midday and settled Sharpay into her room. Troy recalled his and Ryan's failed attempts to cook her lunch, settling finally on a can of Campbell's Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She'd eaten about half and then laid down for a nap. His own body was still feeling fatigued so he'd climbed in with her, settling her against him. Then there was--nothing more, excluding his dream.
That dream in itself was the most unsettling thing he'd ever experienced. It was coming back to him now, each segment more disturbing then the previous. Why had he been dreaming about himself and Gabriella? How could he dream something to those likes?
Sharpay kept a lot of new age books around her apartment. She claimed she didn't believe in astrology, numerology, dream significance or tarot cards, but he suspected else wise. She tucked the books away on numerous bookcases, but he'd taken to reading them while he waited for her to dress or style her hair. Often he found himself getting through the better part of a book before she was ready to leave, thus he learned quite a few things.
Her books would tell him he was dreaming about Gabriella because there were unresolved issues or feelings. He'd just recently seen her at the hospital and their conversation had been less then pleasant towards the second half. He'd also seen her as he escorted Sharpay down to the lobby, and she'd clearly intended to talk with him. Yet he'd been so consumed with keeping Sharpay unaware of Gabriella's presence, he'd essentially ditched her.
But how had that warranted such a creepy dream? He felt as if he were betraying Sharpay, who slept on unaware of his conflict.
He ran a hand up to his forehead and wiped away growing perspiration. "Freaky," he whispered to the stillness that was Sharpay's bedroom.
An afterthought hit him hard, and in addition to betraying Sharpay, he was betraying himself. His subconscious had no right to dream up a light with Gabriella, especially one that clearly included marriage. Troy Bolton loved and was dedicated to Sharpay Evans, not Gabriella Montez. He refused to believe there was any part of him that cared for her in a way that was anything more then friendly.
Damn, he chided himself, damn it all to hell. He'd never been so in love with Sharpay, never been so wholly dedicated to a person. Her accident had only brought to the surface all the feelings raging inside him, and Gabriella had picked the worst possible moment to charge headfirst back into his life. Not only had she shown up at the worst time, she'd apparently brought a truck load of feelings with her.
That begged the question: Was he really over her completely? He loathed to think about it, but it was a necessary task. It wouldn't be fair to Sharpay, whom he'd give the world, if he still cared for Gabriella romantically.
It was no hidden secret she'd ripped his heart out, stomped on it a few times and then presented it to him without a return address. She was the first girl he'd trusted it out to, the first girl he'd kissed and the first girl he'd brought home to his mom and dad. He'd moped around for months after the breakup, and a year later he wasn't fully recovered. Even later he'd only just begun to mend, and he attributed that to having a huge class load, work load and great roommate.
It wasn't that Sharpay had gotten rid of the deep feelings he'd had for Gabriella. No, those feelings had faded all on their own. Sharpay had evoked a whole different set of feelings, assuring him Gabriella could never pose a threat to what he had with Sharpay.
In nearly three years he hadn't had any feelings of the romantic sort for Gabriella. Why he'd experienced such a dream had him deeply troubled and unsure of himself all over again.
Just faintly he could hear the sound from Sharpay's living room TV echoing softly back to them. The red numbers on Sharpay's bedroom clock told him it was just after one in the morning, and Troy only knew one person who was nocturnal enough to be up at such a time.
He'd been sleeping with Sharpay for half a year, and he'd learned just the right way in which to shift her off his chest without waking her. It was always a delicate an slow process, but a silent five minutes later she was snuggled up to her favorite pillow, and he was at the foot of the bed, watching her fondly.
He stepped outside the bedroom and closed the door behind him soundlessly, then shuffled down the short hallway, his feet rubbing against the carpet.
Ryan was sprawled out in front of Sharpay's recliner, dressed down to his undershirt and boxers, watching old sitcoms. Troy could see he was clearly awake, humming the TV show's theme song with a soda in one hand. It was instantly apparent why Ryan worked several jobs and lived in a horrible part of San Francisco. Troy was sure no amount of money would have him sharing an apartment with Ryan, not if he was up at one in the morning watching The Brady Bunch and I Love Lucy. He half expected to see little Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie.
Troy reached out to touch Ryan lightly on the shoulder. "Hey," he all but whispered, keeping his voice low. He wasn't sure if Sharpay was sleeping lightly or not, but he didn't want to risk waking her up.
Ryan blinked up at him through the darkness, through the light the TV gave off. "Hey," he returned, shifting to still higher up in the chair. He fumbled for a minute, then hit the mute button. "What're you doing up? I thought you were sleeping with Sharpay." He considered his words and Troy's knowing smile. "You know what I mean."
Troy sat across from him, tucking one foot under him. "Ryan," he said almost hesitantly. "We're friends, aren't we?"
Ryan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yes."
"And friends have confidential talks, right?
"This is about Gabriella, isn't it?"
Troy tucked his other foot up to sit Indian style, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess." Ryan raked a hand through his messy hair. Tension grew quickly between them, and Ryan asked, "You still have feelings for her?"
Almost of their own accord Troy's eyes jumped back towards Sharpay's bedroom door. "I don't know, man. I'm all mixed up right now."
Ryan said, in a voice that chilled Troy to the bone, "If you hurt Sharpay, I'll hurt you." His mouth pressed into a line, his expression clearly no nonsense. Troy could almost hear his friend's knuckles cracking. "I'm typically a nonviolent person," Ryan explained, "But Sharpay is all the family I have, the only person in my life who has my best interests in mind. She's my sister, Troy, and I'm always going to look out for her, her heart included."
He rose from the recliner and wandered into the kitchen, flipping on a light. "I want you to understand," he called over his shoulder. "You're my friend. I'm always going to want you to be happy, too, but not at the expense of my sister."
Troy say motionless and silent, watching Ryan move throughout the kitchen. He bit his tongue when Ryan returned with a glass of water and sat directly next to him.
"Figure out your feelings, Troy, before you say anything to Sharpay. Don't tell her you saw Gabriella, or that you're doubting you're over her. Don't hurt my sister if you can help it. Go do whatever you have to do to figure out this whole mess, but I want it to be extremely clear to you that if you make her cry, there will be serious repercussions for you. I'm no basketball star, I don't go to the gym every day and work out, but I'm more then capable of putting up a fight. I'll defend Sharpay's honor if I have too. I just want you to keep that in mind."
Troy gulped and nodded quickly, conveying to Ryan he was just as serious about the situation. "I promise," Troy said deeply, "I won't hurt Sharpay, no matter what."
"Don't say that. You can't make that kind of a promise when you're dealing with love."
"Then I don't suppose you'd be the right person for me to talk to about this."
Ryan raised and eyebrow and hit the volume button, blasting the image and sounds of Major Nelson and a particular genie into the room.
Troy nodded more to himself then his companion. "I didn't think so."
The following morning just before Sharpay and Ryan awoke he pressed himself into bathroom, phone in hand. He dialed quickly, waited for the ring and pressed the phone to his ear.
"Andy?" He asked, knowing that with the time difference he'd just caught his roommate on his way out for his classes. "Can you do me a favor? You know where I keep my phone book? I need you to look up a number for me."