The thing Ryan knows about Michael Scott is that he sometimes has trouble keeping private things private. This means that at any moment, for lack of anything else to say, Michael could blurt out "I fucked the temp yesterday" to the entire office.
But luckily, thus far, Michael has stayed quiet and hasn't said anything like "I fucked the temp yesterday," or more accurately, "I had sex with Ryan yesterday," or more accurately and in the interest of full disclosure, "I had sex with Ryan yesterday, and then again last night, and then we messed around in the shower this morning but we didn't actually get to the sex part because Ryan couldn't keep it together when I—" Ryan is snapped out of his thoughts by Dwight yelling "Temp!" from across the office. Ryan makes a face when Dwight hands him some papers to copy, considers telling him to make the receptionist do it, and decides not to.
Michael's been in his office all day. Ryan wonders if he's alright, if he should go in and see him, but he knows that the old Ryan wouldn't. The old Ryan, the Ryan who hated nothing more than he hated Dunder Mifflin, wouldn't. The Ryan who would never, ever attempt to blow his boss on the way to work and then have to finish things with his hand because Michael had almost swerved off the road and Ryan had decided that if they both died in a fiery car accident, he would rather his charred corpse be found getting Michael's charred corpse off with his hand than with his mouth. That Ryan wouldn't give a damn why his boss was cooped up in his office, would probably be thrilled that Michael isn't around. And he doesn't want to look like anyone but the old Ryan for fear that someone will notice and wonder why he's being nice to Michael.
Ryan thinks about this for a minute and realizes that there really isn't an old Ryan and a new Ryan. He's not a changed man. If he was, he wouldn't place the opinions of people he doesn't even like over the feelings of a man who, well okay, he clearly has some sort of feelings for. Ryan steels himself and stands up. Then the door to Michael's office opens. He sits back down awkwardly. Creed gives him a look.
Michael walks towards Ryan's desk and Ryan feels as though everyone in the office is watching, even though most likely, no one's paying attention; even Creed has turned back to doing whatever disturbing thing he does with his time. Michael leans over him, so close that his lips are almost touching Ryan's ear.
"I'm not generally a bad driver," he mutters. Ryan begs to differ, but he can't say anything because now Michael's got him thinking about this morning. Thinking about Michael's hand tangled in Ryan's hair as he pushes Ryan's head down just slightly, and the sounds Michael makes as Ryan does his best to reciprocate for the day before, (and last night, and earlier this morning), and that stupid GPS telling them to get the hell back on the goddamn road (only in nicer language and with a British accent). And Ryan tries to will all the blood in his body to his face or his arms or his feet—anywhere, anywhere but where it's trying to go.
Ryan tries to respond and ends up choking on his own saliva. He tries again and manages to spit out "Okay."
"Okay," Michael repeats. Then he asks if Ryan wants to eat lunch with him. Ryan's pretty sure he won't be able to leave his desk for a while so he shakes his head no with what is probably a rather pained expression on his face. Michael walks away, looking slightly disappointed, but there's really nothing Ryan can do. It's Michael's fault anyway. For bringing up the car ride. For being so goddamn... Michael.
After five or ten minutes of thinking about Meredith and dead fish and Dwight's cousin, Ryan decides he's alright to stand up. But by this point Michael's back in his office, so he just sits at his desk. He googles for apartments; he figures that if he ever wants to be with Michael somewhere other than Michael's condo or Michael's car, he really shouldn't be living with his mother. He finds a website of available apartments around Scranton, scrolls down the list. It's organized by price, and by the time Ryan reaches the ones he can afford—one room apartments in the shadiest parts of town—he decides that he probably ought to wait a while longer before he makes plans to move out. Still, there's no harm in looking, even if it just reminds him of everything he can't have, everything he's giving up to stay in Scranton.
Ryan realizes that he's thinking about Michael in terms of the future. Not Michael in terms of hooking up when Ryan's feeling vulnerable or when Michael's feeling lonely, but Michael in terms of being with Michael, even when he's not necessarily sleeping with Michael.
Ryan can't believe he's thinking about this so quickly, but it's not like he's thinking about moving in with Michael. It's about time he gets his own apartment anyway, and if it means that Michael can stay over sometimes, even better. Of course, it does mean that Ryan is accepting that he'll be working at Dunder Mifflin for a while longer, even if he doesn't get anything better than a temp job there, (because really, what else can he do in Scranton?) but he doesn't really mind.
They try the car thing again on the way home from work that night, but this time they park first, somewhere secluded. It works a lot better. Ryan feels like a high school student although he considers that this wasn't really the sort of thing he was doing in high school.
Ryan doesn't want to talk to his mom about why he didn't come home last night or why he wants to move out or why he smells like cheap cologne when he still has half a bottle of that really nice stuff Kelly bought him for Christmas one year, so he stays at Michael's again.
Ryan wakes up and Michael's arm is draped over him. He's in exactly the same position he was last night—that is, on his stomach with his face buried in Michael's pillow, because he sleeps in the dark and Michael uses a night light. Ryan is really going to have to do something about that because he absolutely cannot be with a grown man who uses a night light, even though no one is ever going to know if Ryan can help it. Michael's arm is across his shoulders. It's only 7:30 and Michael is still snoring softly, but Ryan gets up because he really needs a shower. He also really needs to find some clothes that won't look as though they're Michael's because he can't wear his own suit for the third day in a row and there's no way he's going home to get a different one.
He's rummaging through Michael's drawer with a towel slung around his shoulders when Michael rolls over and opens his eyes. "Hey," Michael says.
Ryan is about to say "Hey" in return and then suddenly it hits him that he's spent the past two nights with Michael and they've basically been the best two nights of the past year or so, maybe longer. And by best, he pretty much means the only good ones, the only ones where he's not high or in jail or jobless or going to mandatory drug counseling or whatever, but also by best he really means best. Like, really good, not just alright compared to drugs and prison. The thought actually makes him feel physically overwhelmed and a little bit ill. For a moment he turns away and tries not to gag. Then the sensation passes, and Ryan looks back at Michael. "Hey," he replies.
"What are you doing?" Michael asks, as though there could be any number of reasons for a mostly naked man to be looking through a drawer full of clothes.
"I don't have anything to wear," Ryan answers. Michael suggests looking in the closet; he thinks Jan might have left some of her clothes behind from when they lived together, but even though Michael thinks the clothes would probably fit, Ryan remembers Michael's one accidental foray into cross-dressing, and how everyone in the office picked up on it right away, and decides that it wouldn't really help his efforts to not draw attention to himself.
He ends up in navy blue sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. It's a pretty horrible outfit for work, but it is Friday at least, and he can just say he went for a run before work and didn't have time to change. Also, the clothes are definitely clean and fairly unworn; Michael's not really the athletic type.
Michael drives to work and Ryan walks, because he's pretty sure that someone from Vance Refrigeration saw Ryan get out of Michael's car after their "carpool" yesterday, and because Ryan needs to make his story look believable anyway.
No one says anything about Ryan's sweat suit. They're busy trying to figure out why the hell Dwight is cooking horse meat in the toaster oven. Ryan's curious himself, but he knows any discussion involving him and the toaster oven will inevitably lead to remembering one thing, and he's still trying to live that down (of course, replacing Fire Guy with Drug-Addict Guy, Embezzlement-and-Corporate-Fraud Guy, and Peroxide-Blonde Guy isn't any better. But at least it's not Michael-Scott's-Bitch Guy).
He finds himself glancing over at Michael's office during the day. Sometimes Michael is glancing back. Or more likely staring. No one notices; nobody else in the office really enjoys looking at Michael. Or Ryan, for that matter. Around lunchtime, Toby walks over to ask Ryan a question about some form he filled out when he returned to being a temp. Ryan wonders what Toby would say if Ryan asked him for one of those relationship-disclosure forms. Probably, Toby would be so shocked that anyone at Dunder Mifflin could like Ryan (except for maybe Kelly, but if it was Kelly again, she'd be getting the forms so she could tell Toby all about her relationship) that he would be more surprised at the initial asking than at the signature on the form with Ryan's. But of course, Ryan doesn't ask.
Ryan calls his mom around one, letting her know that he's making plans to move out, once he can get the money. She asks him where he's been for the past couple of days, and he makes up a story about staying at a friend's house. It's not entirely a lie. He can tell she's worried, probably thinks he's doing drugs again, so before hanging up, he promises to stop home after work and pick up some clean clothes.
At about 3:15, Ryan talks to Michael. Michael asks if he has any plans for the weekend and Ryan says he doesn't. Nobody notices, even though Ryan always has plans (usually his plans mainly entail avoiding being asked by Michael to hang out). Last week he had to hang out with his friends. The week before he had plans to hang out with his grandparents. The week before that, he had plans to hang out with his second cousins who were in town from Europe for just one weekend, what a shame. But this week, no plans. Ryan feels like he's being paranoid, being so sure that changing his habits will cause people to notice his relationship with Michael.
But at the same time, everyone found out about Jim and Pam when they were trying to hide their relationship. And before that, about how Jim had a crush on Pam while she was with Roy. And about Michael and Jan. And about Michael and Holly. And about Angela and Dwight. And... Ryan sighs, and goes back to working and avoiding all possible eye contact.
On Fridays, as soon as the clock hits five, everyone rushes out of the office. On every day, really, but even more so on Fridays. Michael stands at the door like a Disney World character, smiling and waving at Jim and Pam, Erin, Andy, Meredith, Stanley, as they all leave the workspace.
When everyone has gone, Michael asks if Ryan wants a ride. Ryan says thanks, but he has to go home and he should probably walk, since it's going to look suspicious enough when he shows up in someone else's clothing, and he suggests that they meet up at a bar later—not Poor Richard's, somewhere that not everybody goes. Michael's face lights up at this, and Ryan isn't surprised; he knows it was exactly the right thing to say. Ryan's known Michael for what, five years now? Probably knows him better than most of his coworkers, except maybe Dwight. Because Michael's got this obnoxious habit of using Ryan as his confidant for the stupidest things, whenever he gets a hint of anything but rejection from Ryan's words or body language.
Ryan knows exactly where Michael shops, why Michael and Jan broke up, how Michael likes his coffee, how Michael feels when Todd Packer insults him in that joking-but-not-really-joking assholish way that Todd Packer has, how heartbroken Michael was when Holly left. And he knows that more than anything, Michael wants a relationship with someone who can be his best friend. Sure he likes sex. But mostly he wants someone to talk to and go out with and cuddle and all that stuff that Ryan is still sort of uncomfortable with but did in his last relationship, with Kelly, because she loved it and Ryan loved her and will do with Michael because Michael loves it and Ryan... well, Ryan pulls Michael into a kiss in the middle of the office. Michael presses his body against Ryan's.
There are footsteps in the direction of the office door. Alarm bells and swear words immediately start going off in Ryan's head, but his brain can't convince his body to pull away.
"Oh my god," Kelly whispers behind them. Then she giggles, "that is so hot." Ryan feels the corners of Michael's mouth twitch, but Michael is still too busy kissing him to smile or laugh or whatever it is he wants to do that Ryan definitely doesn't want to do because he's too busy thinking about how screwed he is. And kissing Michael.
Ryan is debating trying to come up with an excuse but he can't really think of anything that would explain him with his arms wrapped around Michael and his tongue in Michael's mouth in the middle of the office at 5:06 (or at any time, anywhere, for that matter) except the truth. And he doesn't really feel like talking to Kelly about it, so he just keeps kissing and hopes she won't say anything else.
Ryan hears Kelly walk back to the alcove and he assumes she forgot her cell phone. She usually forgets it at work at least twice a week, because she spends all day playing with it and then leaves it on her desk. Whatever she's doing, it's fast, because a minute later he hears the office door slam again. It's only then that Ryan breaks away from Michael. "Oh my god," he says.
"Wow," Michael breathes, and Ryan isn't sure if he's talking about the kiss or about Kelly. He's grinning in a sheepish sort of way.
"Shit," Ryan mutters. Ryan has a hand on Michael's arm, and one of Michael's hands is cupping the side of Ryan's face, and they're still standing there like that and just looking at each other when one of the camera men walks back in to the room, camera rolling. "Shit," Ryan mumbles again.
Then he's defiant, because he realizes it's too late to do anything to keep the whole office from finding out. And because he's actually starting not to care. He doesn't consciously decide he doesn't care about everyone else because he cares too much for Michael; "Fuck it," is his actual thought process. Regardless, he says "Let's go," to Michael, grabbing him by the arm. Ryan pulls Michael out of the office and as they leave, Michael turns back and Ryan's pretty sure that the sonofabitch actually grins to the camera.
In the parking lot, Ryan heads for the road and Michael heads for his car. Then Michael doubles back and says, "You don't have a car anymore, do you? How will you get to the bar?" Ryan can hear a note of fear in his voice, and he realizes that, even after the events of the past few days, Michael thinks Ryan's just making excuses not to spend time with him. Just like he always does.
And Ryan decides that he can do without clean shirts at least for a little while longer, so he says "Forget it; I can pick up clothes in the morning." He receives a grateful smile. Ryan shrugs and smiles and follows Michael back to the car.
The bar is east of the office, so they're not actually driving away into the sunset, but it's close enough for government work. Or mid-sized paper company work, as it were. Ryan doesn't know what's going to happen Monday, when Kelly or the cameraman inevitably tells someone—or more likely, everyone. But it's the weekend, so until Monday comes, none of it matters. Except for him and Michael. And mostly Michael.