#bfu prompts 2019

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Taking a break from angst to write the fluffiest fluff. Enjoy, anon!

*

Ryan's a little bit addicted to Shane's stupid face. He shouldn't be, but there are a lot of things in his life he does despite his better judgement. Like when he finds out Shane is ticklish.

The first time happens by accident. Shane makes a sarcastic comment during their investigation, like he always does, and Ryan reaches out to jab him in the ribs. It's not hard enough to hurt, he knows, but Shane jerks to the side with a huff of laughter, his eyes crinkling in the way they do whenever he's endlessly amused. It’s so quick, it barely registers, but the flash of Shane’s teeth makes Ryan’s stomach swoop happily.

“Go away,” Shane complains, but still follows as Ryan leads the way into another room.

*

The second time is just to double check.

It’s the end of their night — TJ and Mark are packing equipment into the back of their rental, getting ready to leave for the hotel nearby while Shane and Ryan stay the night on location. Ryan’s still feeling on edge from a terrifying solo investigation in a basement with too many cobwebs and too many possible spirits.

Shane’s beside him, winding cable around his elbow, which means his ribs are exposed and Ryan has never pretended to be a strong man. 

“Don’t drop it,” he jokes, really getting his fingers in there this time, giving a full tickle as Shane wiggles like he’s been electrocuted.

“You fucking — ” Shane gets out, voice pitched high as he immediately dissolves into laughter, dropping the cable just as expected. It unspools around their feet, but Ryan doesn’t care because Shane’s face does the cute, scrunchy thing and he immediately finds himself smiling in return. It’s too much, and still not enough.

Shane takes a step back, pulling out of his reach, and Ryan drops his hands back down, laughing as Shane rubs at his ribs like he’s trying to brush away Ryan’s phantom touch.

“I’m fucking what?” Ryan asks, partly to annoy Shane, but mostly because he deserves whatever Shane was about to call him.

“You’re fucking dealing with that cable,” Shane eventually tells him, his expression smoothing out as he stops laughing. “You’re an asshole.”

Ryan can tell from his tone that he doesn’t mean it, but Shane still nudges him with his shoulder as he brushes past him to start gathering up a few more bits of their equipment. Ryan reaches out, pretending that he’s going to try again, and Shane preemptively flinches and tucks his arms in to protect his sides.

“What’s the matter?” Ryan asks. “Are you ticklish?”

“Fuck off,” Shane tells him, but Ryan just laughs again and leaves him alone.

*

The third time is on purpose.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish,” Ryan says as Shane climbs into bed. He’s in a soft pair of sweats and an old shirt that makes Ryan want to touch it to see if it’s as soft as it looks.

Shane pauses, halfway through folding the sheets around himself. When he looks up, his expression is wary.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he says, but Ryan can already guess what he means and starts reaching for him.

He wants a lot of things he can’t have, but for now, he can settle on watching the perfect shift of Shane’s expression as he braces for Ryan’s fingers, laughing before Ryan can even touch him.

“Don’t,” he warns again, but the second Ryan gets his hands on Shane’s ribs, Shane’s eyes crinkle and his mouth spreads into a wide, involuntary smile.

Ryan doesn’t tickle hard — he’s only trying to steal a quick laugh — but Shane reaches for his wrists, grabbing them tightly and tugging enough that Ryan’s fingers wiggle against air instead.

“There’s going to be another ghost in this place if you don’t stop,” Shane threatens and Ryan snorts.

“Are you admitting there’s already one here?”

Shane frowns and begins to protest, which distracts him from trying to keep Ryan at bay and allows Ryan another quick tickle before his hands are tugged away again.

“Stop,” Shane insists around a laugh, shifting his weight enough to be able to push Ryan over, forcing him flat on his back on his side of the bed. Ryan lets out a soft exhale of surprise and tries — without much success — to free himself from Shane’s grasp.

“No, no,” Ryan replies. “We should talk about this.”

“I’m not admitting to anything.”

“Are we talking about the ghost or you being ticklish?”

“Both,” Shane complains, making Ryan laugh.

“If you admit to them, I’ll stop.”

“That’s extortion.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. “But that’s my price.”

“This is a serious investigation,” Shane says instead, but Ryan shakes his head as he looks up at him.

“Don’t even try it,” he warns. “You’ve never ever taken these investigations seriously.”

“Okay, I promise to take the next investigation seriously. In exchange, you have to stop tickling me.”

“Because you’re ticklish?” Ryan asks, but Shane gives him a flat look and doesn’t reply. Ryan moves his arms just to test Shane’s grip and see if he’s still paying attention, but Shane’s fingers tighten around his wrists.

“Pulling pigtails is so late nineties,” Shane tells him after a pause, and Ryan blinks.

“Pigtails? Like a kindergartner with a crush?”

Shane leans down, close enough to Ryan’s face that Ryan’s eyes almost cross, and asks, “Isn’t that what it is?”

Ryan swallows. He thinks Shane’s still just trying to get a rise from him, but for once, he can’t tell what Shane might be planning. He’s usually so stupidly obvious, but Ryan can’t think when he’s so close. Which is what he’s going to blame everything on when all of this is over.

He moves before Shane can, and it’s about as impulsive as the tickling — he wants a reaction, wants to see what will happen. It’s not a good decision in the slightest, but it’s the one he settles on.

Shane’s mouth slackens with surprise the moment Ryan kisses him, his hands releasing Ryan’s wrists, and it’s all too easy to reach down and find Shane’s ribs again.

Ryan wants to memorize the feeling of Shane’s lips shifting into a grin against his own, but just as quickly as it happens, Shane draws back, and when Ryan opens his eyes, he gets a close-up view of Shane’s scrunched face as he laughs.

“You’re a dick,” Shane tells him, his laughter dying off as he rubs at his ribs. “Was that just a distraction technique?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan answers honestly, “but it definitely worked.”

“If it wasn’t a distraction, then what was it?”

Ryan laughs. “Last I checked, that’s what they call a kiss. Didn’t you learn anything in clown school?”

Shane’s mouth thins like he’s trying to think up a retort, but after staring down at Ryan for a beat longer than comfortable, he says, “Fine.”

Ryan isn’t expecting him to lean down and close the distance between them again, but that’s what he does — kissing Ryan before it can register that it’s happening. It’s soft and quick and makes Ryan’s heart thunder in his chest. When Shane pulls back, Ryan clears his throat.

“Was that a kiss?” he jokes, even though he can barely put two thoughts together that aren’t just Shane and kissing.

“No, it was a distraction.”

“For what?”

Ryan realizes far too late that Shane’s hands have shifted to his sides, and he doesn’t have enough time to wriggle away before Shane’s fingers dig in, tickling him in return.

“No, no,” Ryan warns, but he can’t do anything but wheeze, unable to catch his breath as Shane shows no mercy. It’s only fair, he supposes, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow when he can’t draw in air.

“What?” Shane asks above the noise of Ryan’s laughter. “Are you ticklish?”

“Shane,” he pleads and Shane stops for only a moment, peering down at him, giving Ryan just enough time to grab his wrists.

“You mean you can give it, but you can’t take it?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Ryan tells him, because he’s not sure if Shane’s still talking about the tickling.

“It is,” Shane agrees. “Should we go back to the distracting?”

“Fuck yes,” Ryan replies and it’s easy to drag Shane down for another kiss.

It’s longer and sweeter, and honestly, Ryan’s willing to ignore how vulnerable and exposed Shane’s ribs are, if only so he can deepen the kiss. It’s a momentary truce, but he knows there will be plenty of time for tickling in the future.

[shyanwritingevents]

~ What is the Shyan Week?

A fan event in which participants will create fan works of their own based on a prompt given to them daily for seventh days. They will be able to chose between three options a day, posting their stuff under the tag #shyanweek2k19 for other people to check out.

More details under the cut!

~ Event Rules

Everyone can participate in this event as long as their work is based in one of the three prompts given on the day they are posting.

The work’s main pairing should be shyan, otherwise it won’t be accepted as part of the event. Side pairings are allowed.

This event is for works written in English. Anyone from any part of the world can enter, but English is necessary. It needs to have the necessary beta work done before posting. Fanfictions must be reasonably edited and readable, we are NOT betaing works for authors.

Original works created for the event ONLY.

Works including rape/non-con/torture-porn/underage are not allowed as part of this event! This is not a ban on dark material. You may address related themes in your works, but graphic scenes should be avoided. But material of the kind between the couple will not be allowed.

~ Rules for posting

Fanfics must be posted on AO3 with the tag Shyan Week 2019. You can crosspost to Tumblr, Wattpad, etc but it must be on AO3 as well. That will be our archive. You can also post your art over there.

Add your work to the AO3 collection, HERE.

When posting your work on tumblr, you have to use the tag #shyanweek2k19 in the first five tags of your work. You can also tag the blog with #shyanwritingevents, if you want. But the week’s tag is necessary.

In your post, there must be something that indicates it is for the Shyan Week 2019, what day it is for and with what prompt.

~ Restrictions

No participants under the age of 18 are allowed to do explicit stuff.

No WIPs (works in progress) allowed, only finished stories and art.

No underage sex and/or noncon/rape allowed.

No racism and/or racist language. No hate speech of any kind.

No bashing different dynamics/preferences when it comes to the ship. (Meaning, no bashing/mocking Bottom!Ryan, Bottom!Shane, switching, and so on, dom/sub dynamics, none of that shade.)

No bashing of any kind to the family, friends and significant others of the boys. Be respectful. If you need a villain to your story, we suggest you to create an original character.

Works that are not tagged under Ry*n B*rgara/Shan* M*dej and Shya Week 2019 on AO3 will not be added to the collection nor allowed in the event. If you have doubts about AO3′s tagging system, please message us.

Got any questions? Ask away!

~ Schedule

Week: From January 28 to February 3.

Day 1: Getting Together | Favorite Moment | If Ghosts Are Real

Day 2: Meeting The Family | Quote(s) | Heart Eyes

Day 3: PDA | Favorite Non-BFU Video(s) | Like Mulder & Scully

Day 4: Coming Out | Favorite Little Detail | A Love Without Measure

Day 5: F R E E    D A Y 

Day 6: First Meeting | Social Media | Alternate Universe

Day 7: Day After Day | Looking At Each Other | If It’s Just The Wind

~ What kind of works does this event accept?

Fanfictions (no less than 300 words, only finished works)

Fanart (finished or doodle)

Graphics (including posters)

Gifsets (3 gifs or more)

Fanmix (min 8 songs)

Fanvideo (no less than 1 minute)

Got any questions? We will be happy to answer them! Just shoot us an ask, or message us. And please help spread the word so we can reach as many authors and artists as possible!

Thank you and have fun! ~

[gadgetsrevv]

Bulgarian FA slams England boss Southgate over racism concerns

Sport

The president of the Bulgarian Football Union (BFU) Borislav Mihaylov has expressed his indignation and disappointment over comments by England manager Gareth Southgate about the prospect of racism at next month’s Euro 2020 qualifier in Sofia.

FILE PHOTO: Soccer Football – Euro 2020 Qualifier – Group A – England v Bulgaria – Wembley Stadium, London, Britain – September 7, 2019 England manager Gareth Southgate REUTERS/David Klein/File Photo

2 related media assets (image or videos) available. Click to see the gallery.

14 Sep 2019 06:35AM

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SOFIA: The president of the Bulgarian Football Union (BFU) Borislav Mihaylov has expressed his indignation and disappointment over comments by England manager Gareth Southgate about the prospect of racism at next month’s Euro 2020 qualifier in Sofia.

Southgate, who plans to consult his players before the Oct. 14 game, said he feared they could face racial abuse in Bulgaria after an away fan allegedly targeted winger Raheem Sterling when the teams met at Wembley last Saturday.

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The FA said an individual was ejected from the stadium for “discriminatory abuse” during England’s 4-0 win.

But in a statement https://ift.tt/301dCC4 on its website on Friday, the BFU said such concerns were “groundless, inappropriate and unnecessary”.

In a letter sent to European soccer’s governing body UEFA and the FA, former Bulgaria goalkeeper Mihaylov said: “We have not received any official information regarding discriminatory language used by a Bulgarian supporter at Wembley Stadium.

“Even if this were the case, however, we believe that generalisations and the creation of needless tension by official members of the English team is absolutely unacceptable and in contradiction with the spirit of mutual respect and fair play, the core values of both UEFA and the BFU.”

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England top Group A with a maximum 12 points from four games, while Bulgaria are bottom with two from five matches.

UEFA has ordered the BFU to partially close the Vasil Levski national stadium for England’s visit after supporters were found guilty of racist behaviour in matches earlier this year.

Bulgarian supporters made monkey chants at the visiting black players when England last travelled to Sofia in 2011, prompting UEFA to fine the BFU 40,000 euros (£35,468).

(Writing by Ken Ferris; Editing by Pritha Sarkar)

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Dearest @mephsation, this really isn’t what you asked for, but I felt soft. Hope that’s okay ♥

*

"In the words of Nike," Shane hears Jen say from the breakroom, "just do it."

Shane’s really only in search of another can of LaCroix, but when he walks in and realizes she’s talking to Ryan, he can’t help himself.

“Motivational,” he jokes, but Jen’s the only one who laughs.

Ryan doesn't look away from her, his gaze significant in a way Shane knows he can’t understand. She gives him a soft look in return, like he’s being unreasonable, and that Shane does understand.

“I’m serious,” Jen says. “Fucking do it.”

She picks up her bowl of what appears to be Chex Mix and heads for the exit, her gaze never leaving Ryan, eyes comically wide and eyebrows raised as some kind of hint. She hits the edge of the doorway on her way out and laughs again as she turns to leave properly.

Shane looks over at Ryan, expecting to hear an explanation, but Ryan turns to the fridge behind and grabs a soda instead.

He waits until Ryan shuts the door before asking, “Can I get a mango water while you’re there?”

Ryan blows out a frustrated breath that sounds a lot like a wheeze of laughter, but he does actually listen, opening the fridge again to grab Shane a drink. He passes it over with a roll of his eyes.

“I don’t know why I — ” he starts, but stops, pulling his hand back.

Shane’s fascinated by the whole thing because he sees Ryan uncomfortable and on edge a lot while filming for Unsolved, but not in the everyday office setting. He’s a confident extrovert and — much like Shane — doesn’t feel the pain of humiliation. Shane cracks open his drink and slurps at the fizz that spills into the rim of the can. Ryan watches like he can’t help himself and Shane raises an eyebrow at him.

“Remember,” Shane says lightly, “just do it.”

He takes an actual sip of his drink and Ryan lets out a noise of annoyance and takes a step back.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“You could tell me,” Shane points out. “Then I’d know.”

“No,” Ryan immediately retorts and his eyes go shifty.

“Just do it.”

“Shane, I swear to fucking god. Say that one more time and I’ll end you.”

Shane laughs and opens his mouth to say exactly what Ryan doesn’t want him to. Ryan already seems to know because he reaches out and slaps his hand right over his lips.

“Don’t,” he warns and Shane laughs again, muffled from behind the warmth of Ryan's palm.

When Ryan finally pulls his hand away, apparently trusting Shane to know the joke won’t be funny a second time, he fidgets with the tab of his soda, pinging it like a tic.

“All right then; keep your secrets,” Shane quotes, and it makes Ryan laugh as intended.

“Resorting to Lord of the Rings lines?”

“Well, you have the monopoly on Nike slogans. I gotta take whatever’s left.”

“There are a million better movies to steal from,” Ryan argues and Shane shrugs.

“That’s just, like, your opinion, man.”

Ryan laughs again, reaching out to shove him gently. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“And yet you continue to work with me.”

“I’m forced to at this point,” Ryan jokes and Shane huffs a laugh.

“Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Shane turns then, ready to head back to his desk because he figures he’s harassed Ryan enough for one morning, but Ryan reaches out suddenly, like he’s thinking about grabbing Shane to stop him.

“Hey, Shane?” Ryan asks and Shane turns back expectantly.

“Yeah?”

He can see Ryan warring with himself, but eventually Ryan takes a breath and swallows.

“Are you free for dinner sometime this week?”

Shane knows what it’s like for Ryan to ask if he wants to grab dinner, because it happens most weeks. Usually, it’s preceded by Ryan complaining about having to go to the grocery store and then talking about tacos or hot wings for long enough that they both end up with cravings. Sometimes it’s Shane that suggests they grab something after work, but most times it’s Ryan, who will lean over and nudge at Shane’s headphones until he tucks them back and looks at him expectantly.

This isn’t one of those times. This is Ryan asking him to dinner because that’s what he wants, and Shane doubts the food even factors into it. This is Ryan building up the courage to ask him on a date.

Shane’s stomach flips, a thrill of something going through his body as Ryan watches him carefully, like how Shane reacts will either make or break him. Shane isn’t cruel enough to keep him waiting, so he slowly lets himself smile, unable to help the way his eyes crinkle with his delight.

“You did it,” he says, hit with the realization that this is exactly what Jen was talking about. She was urging Ryan to do this. All of the shared looks suddenly slot into place.

“Is that a yes?”

“How about tomorrow?” Shane replies, because he figures that’ll give Ryan a clue that it’s definitely a yes.

Ryan’s whole body seems to loosen as whatever weight was resting on him finally lifts.

“Really?” he asks and Shane laughs.

“I can change my answer if you’d like?”

“No!” Ryan quickly interrupts. “No, tomorrow is good; tomorrow is great.”

He looks at Shane, a smile on his face that’s brighter than anything Shane’s seen recently.

“Quick question, though,” Shane starts, waiting until Ryan nods in acknowledgment before continuing. “Do you think Nike will sponsor us?”

Ryan laughs, clearly caught off guard, and Shane finds himself laughing in return.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Ryan complains. “I don’t know why I like you.”

“Maybe one day we’ll figure it out,” Shane tells him and Ryan blows out a breath and shakes his head.

“Doubtful,” he says, but the look on his face says he’s probably willing to try anyway.

Shane smiles.

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“What the fuck?” Ryan asks, because it’s way too early on a Monday to wrap his mind around what he’s seeing.

Shane looks over, his face pale apart from the blood dripping from his nose, his eyes wide in surprise, and Ryan gets the distinct impression that oversleeping and getting to work twenty minutes late is the best thing he’s done all year.

“Do you know this guy?” Ryan asks, barely sparing a glance at the man whose hand is fisted in the front of Shane’s shirt, keeping him pinned against the painted brick behind.

Shane looks down and briefly shakes his head, which is all Ryan needs to see. There’s a not-so-unexpected protective flare burning bright in his chest and it’s easy to drop his backpack to the ground and take two threatening steps towards where they are.

Getting a better look at the guy, it’s clear he’s young — possibly still in high school or just barely out, but he doesn’t even flinch at Ryan’s approach.

“Can I help you?” Ryan asks, grabbing the guy’s upper arm, the one holding onto Shane.

“He has my wallet,” Shane mumbles and the kid shrugs Ryan’s hand away to draw back his arm and punch Shane square in the jaw. It sounds like it hurts, but it’s clearly not the first hit Shane’s taken today.

Ryan doesn’t pretend to know how to fight someone; all he thinks he knows he learned from TV and movies. He doesn’t even expect any of his so-called moves to work, but when he swipes his foot out, trying to knock the kid’s legs from under him, it actually does send him tumbling to the ground. The guy grunts and there’s a clatter of something metallic that Ryan can’t see because he’s too busy shoving the guy onto his stomach, pulling his arms behind his back.

“Get the fuck off me,” he yelps, wriggling and attempting to throw Ryan off, but Ryan holds him steady.

“Call the cops,” Ryan says, glancing over at Shane, who looks even more surprised now, his mouth hanging open. “Shane.”

Shane blinks and wipes at his chin where the blood is trickling down from his nose. “He has my phone.”

“You piece of — ” Ryan complains, tugging one of the guy’s arms up further behind his back, just because he knows it’ll make his shoulder ache. “Grab it, Shane.”

Shane crouches beside them, hands gently nudging at Ryan’s thigh to get past him to the kid’s pocket. When he pulls back, he’s holding his phone, though the screen is cracked all the way down the front and Ryan thinks that’s probably thanks to his Jackie Chan move.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, though it still turns on when Shane unlocks it with his thumbprint, but then he stands up, moving out of Ryan’s view as he’s connected to 9-1-1 a few moments later.

“You’re gonna regret this,” the kid spits from beneath Ryan, while Shane lists off their location to the dispatcher. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re starting to sound like Draco Malfoy,” Ryan deadpans and above, Shane laughs, making Ryan look up, just to see the stretch of his smile. Shane winks at him and then thanks the dispatcher before hanging up.

“They’ve got officers a few minutes away,” he says. “They’re heading over.”

The kid starts struggling again in earnest and Ryan shifts his arm just a little bit higher.

“You’re gonna break it!” he yells and Ryan does actually relent because he’s not in the habit of breaking the arms of teenagers.

“What happened?” Ryan asks, looking up again, watching Shane wipe at his nose. It’s still bleeding sluggishly and there’s already a bruise forming under his left eye.

“Went to get coffee down the street,” Shane says, tipping his head towards an overturned cup a few feet away. There’s another in the gutter nearby and it looks like Ryan’s usual iced tea. “Yeah, I got you something too. Figured if you were late, you’d need a pick-me-up.”

“Cute,” the kid grunts under Ryan. “Let. Me. Go.”

“On the way back, I met this clown.”

“You could have taken him,” Ryan says. “He’s like fifteen.”

“I’m seventeen,” the kid spits back predictably, making Ryan laugh.

“He had a knife,” Shane tells him, nodding to a point beside their spilled drinks. There’s an open flip knife laying discarded in a puddle of coffee and Ryan looks up at Shane incredulously.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you say?”

“How was I supposed to know you were going to attack him?”

“He attacked you first,” Ryan points out, because it should be obvious, but Shane’s expression shifts like it wasn’t, but might now be.

“I had ten bucks in my wallet and was going to cancel all my cards online as soon as I got inside. It wasn’t worth fighting.”

“Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to replace a driver’s license?” Ryan retorts. “No one deserves to deal with that. Not even you.”

“You’re getting soft, Bergara,” Shane says, his eyes crinkling. “Thanks for beating up a sixteen year old for me.”

“Seventeen,” the kid insists again and Ryan finds himself laughing as Shane winks again.

It falls quiet between them and even the kid stops struggling in the minute before footsteps begin to grow nearer. There’s a crackle of radios, which means it’s definitely cops, and when Ryan looks over his shoulder, there are two police officers heading their way.

“We can take it from here,” one of them says, carefully handcuffing the kid as Ryan finally pushes himself to his feet again.

There’s dirt on the knees of his pants and he’s sweating under his arms worse than he realized. When he has to hand the other cop his ID, his hands shake from adrenaline.

“Fuck,” Ryan says, leaning against the wall beside Shane, who’s been given a wad of gauze to press under his nose to soak up the blood.

“Remind me not to mess with you,” he jokes and Ryan laughs and lets out a heavy breath.

“I keep warning you about weapons left and right,” Ryan tells him, holding up his fists, but Shane just laughs and gently knocks them away. It falls silent for a moment before Ryan clears his throat. “I really wasn’t planning to do any of that.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“I just — I saw you with the — ” he gestures to Shane’s nose “ — and I don’t know. Guess I saw red.”

“Is this the part where I swoon and call you my hero?”

“I mean, a little swoon might be nice,” he admits and Shane nudges him with his elbow. “He didn’t stab you, right?”

“No,” Shane tells him gently. “He was just trying to shake me down for more money.”

“He should know by now that millennials are the worst to mug — we have nothing.”

"And our friends are scarily protective."

"I'm not sure I'd have done this for everyone," Ryan admits carefully and Shane nods like he knows.

It's probably the adrenaline leaving his body that makes his reactions so slow, but he doesn't expect the way Shane folds down to his level, drawing him into a hug that pushes Ryan's head into his shoulder. He stiffens in momentary shock, but then it feels natural to curl his arms around Shane in return, tucking his face against his neck, which is warm and smells like Shane’s familiar body wash.

He shuts his eyes and breathes slowly, letting everything about Shane calm his restless body. He didn’t plan on saving Shane, but he knew in his gut he couldn’t not save him. He tightens his hold and a hand comes up to rub the back of Ryan’s neck in a comforting, surprisingly tender touch.

“You’re okay,” Shane tells him and Ryan shifts his head.

His lips graze Shane’s skin when he says, “I don’t give a shit about me.”

Shane’s hand pauses and Ryan’s a little perturbed when Shane draws back, but he holds Shane’s gaze when their eyes meet.

“I’m okay, too,” Shane promises, but all Ryan can think about is how things would be if he wasn’t okay. Mostly in the sense that he wouldn’t know what Ryan wants him to know.

He can’t keep blaming the adrenaline, but it’s a hell of a thing and it’s probably one of the few times he can actually use it as an excuse and have Shane believe him. So he doesn’t stop himself from pulling Shane back in, turning his head just enough for their lips to meet in a soft kiss.

Shane’s eyes are still open and it’s awkward to stare at him from so close, so Ryan shuts his own and leans into him, trying his best to silently say it’s your choice and please please please want me in return. And just when he starts to think he should pull back because it’s bordering on uncomfortable, Shane’s hands reach up to cup his face and he returns the kiss with unexpected enthusiasm.

Ryan can think of a thousand other — possibly better — places for them to share their first kiss, but honestly, Ryan doesn’t want to change a thing about it. It’s perfectly them in a weird kind of way.

He curls his hand into the front of Shane’s shirt just as a throat clears from behind Shane, startling them apart. Ryan lets out a nervous laugh and rubs his clammy hands on his pants, and one of the police officers steps up beside them.

“Can we get a statement from you both?” she asks and Ryan wipes his mouth with a swipe of his palm that probably isn’t as casual as he means it to be.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies after a beat, before looking back at Shane. “We’ll talk about this later?”

“Sure,” Shane agrees, but his smile is warm, like there’s nothing at all to worry about now, and it's easy to believe it. Things are definitely much better now that they’re both safe and Shane now knows exactly what Ryan wanted him to know. Ryan returns the smile and lets the officer lead the way. 

[blacktofade]

Alright, lads — this is the last fill for this round of prompts, but once I’m done with a few longer fics I want to wrap up, I’ll be back to accept more :) Thanks for all the great suggestions! ❤

*

Shane doesn’t return to his desk after his ten o’clock meeting with upper management and a knot forms in Ryan’s stomach. It’s not hard to know why — it means they haven’t approved the new season of Ruining History and Ryan is disappointed but not surprised. BuzzFeed has been bleeding ever since they incorrectly assumed things could still function without a huge portion of their workforce. They’ve all been feeling the strain since the layoffs and honestly, motivation is so low, Ryan finds himself working from home more days of the week than he probably should, unable to conjure the effort to deal with the drag of office life.

He knows Shane hadn’t had high hopes going into the meeting, but he also knows that doesn’t make it easier to receive a resounding no for a project you’ve put your heart and soul into.

He logs out of his computer and makes his way upstairs, already knowing where Shane will probably be.

*

“Hey,” he says softly as the door to the roof shuts behind him. Shane’s sitting nearby on the end of one of the wooden loungers, hunched over his phone and scrolling through a page that looks suspiciously like LinkedIn. He locks the screen at the sound of Ryan’s voice.

“I’m not going to be good company,” Shane tells him with a sigh, looking almost as tired as he sounds.

“Yeah, I figured. Just wanted to check on you.”

“You think I’m going to throw myself off the roof?”

“I don’t think you’re that dramatic.”

“Maybe today’s the day I surprise you.”

Ryan takes a seat beside him, leaning over to nudge him gently with his shoulder. “Surprises are overrated. How about you stay on solid ground?”

Shane rests his elbows on his knees and rubs at his face wearily.

“They said no,” he sighs eventually, carding his fingers through his hair and Ryan reaches out carefully, brushing Shane’s bicep with his fingertips.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Shane blows out a harsher breath and sags. “Is the show that bad?”

“You know it’s not,” Ryan argues softly. “The show is great. It’s just bullshit budgeting.”

“I’m not asking for a lot.”

“I know. You know how cheap they are with everything.”

“Except for Unsolved.”

He says it with a hint of bitterness and Ryan pulls his hand back. Deep down, he knows Shane doesn’t mean it, that he’s just lashing out, but it still stings.

“I spent two weeks in meetings fighting for this season’s budget.”

“You’re fighting to have two nights at a Holiday Inn rather than one,” Shane argues. “You still have your own show at the end of the day.”

“Unsolved is just as much yours as it is mine,” Ryan tells him, but the way Shane looks at him silently is uncomfortably pointed. He meets Shane’s gaze and knows without a doubt that Shane’s about to fight back and it isn’t going to be pretty.

“Don’t humor me,” Shane warns and it’s clear his defenses are up already.

“I’m not! You think because you missed a couple of episodes at the beginning of the show that this isn’t your project too?”

“You do the majority of research,” Shane starts, using his fingers to list his points. “You plan where we visit, you help organize the sponsored episodes, you argue the budget with Katie. What do I do? React? Pull up a couple of comments from fans for Post Mortems? They won’t even let me write the Hot Daga anymore because they think it’s a waste of budget.”

Ryan lets the words settle for a moment, knowing he has to be careful with his response.

“I didn’t know you felt like that, Shane,” he says honestly.

“I don’t have anything,” Shane admits. “I have no outlet for what I want to do.”

Ryan sets his hand fully on Shane’s forearm, his throat going tight. He’s not sure he’ll be able to talk for a minute.

Eventually, after clearing his throat, he repeats, “I didn’t know, Shane.”

“I know you didn’t,” Shane says, rubbing at his face again. “I didn’t want you to.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“You have enough to worry about,” Shane admits. “I was working on it.”

“You were job hunting,” Ryan replies, suddenly more aware of how often Shane’s been going out for long lunches that probably weren’t actually lunches.

Shane nods gently and Ryan finds himself folding over his own knees to press his face into his hands, taking careful breaths to stave off the panic.

“Ryan,” Shane says quietly, pressing a hand between his shoulders, and Ryan knows this isn’t about him, but it’s too much to process at once.

“I can’t do this without you,” Ryan tells him, voice muffled by his palms. “I don’t just mean going to haunted places. I mean everything.”

When he raises his head again, Shane’s gaze is watery and the lump in Ryan’s throat grows worse.

“You didn’t know that,” Ryan says, not a question, and Shane looks away, which is enough of an answer. “Shane.”

"Unsolved has always been your brain child," Shane tells him softly and Ryan's chest aches.

"You want to be more involved?" Ryan asks and Shane shrugs like he doesn't know.

"I need something to change," he admits. "But I don't know what."

Ryan nods and finds himself reaching out to set a hand on Shane's knee. Ryan's palm is clammy and his fingers are trembling, but he keeps them tightly tucked against his leg.

"I don't know how much I can promise from upper management, but whatever I can do to move things in the right direction, I will."

"I know," Shane tells him quietly, and it doesn't sound like a placation; it sounds like the truth.

"Just — " Ryan starts, glancing away to try to find his voice. "Just please don't leave."

The me remains unspoken, but when he meets Shane's gaze again, it's clear he knows.

Carefully, Shane rests a hand atop Ryan's own and squeezes gently.

"Okay," he says, and it's not a promise, but Ryan can work with that. He'll tend it carefully and water it daily until it grows stronger and can finally be the promise he wants.

"Okay," Ryan agrees.

[blacktofade]

I wrote this in my downtime while on jury duty so this is technically sponsored by the justice system.

*

Ryan knows it’s a dream. It has to be because there’s a mouth at the side of his throat and another trailing its way down his stomach, hot and wet and highly distracting.

“Shane,” he breathes and there’s a jolt of excitement when Shane lifts his head to look at him. His hair is in disarray and there’s a mark on his jaw that is definitely mouth-shaped. Ryan doesn’t remember putting it there, though he supposes that’s the thing about dreams — there’s never a clear beginning.

He reaches down, threading his fingers into Shane’s hair and guiding him downwards, because if it’s his dream, he’s going to get what he wants. And what he wants is for Shane to suck his cock.

Shane goes like it’s the easiest thing in the world, shuffling backwards and fitting his shoulders between the splay of Ryan’s legs. He looks huge tucked down there, his hands even more so where they’re resting on his hips. He looks confident and capable, and Ryan knows he's weak to it, even while he’s asleep.

When Shane leans forward to take the tip of Ryan’s cock into his mouth, Ryan forgets how to breathe. His mouth is so hot and his tongue circles distractingly around him, knowing exactly what drives him the craziest.

“Fuck that’s good.”

“He’s had a lot of practice,” a voice says beside his ear and Ryan belatedly remembers there’s someone else there with them.

He has a moment of disappointment that even in his dream he can’t just have Shane to himself, but then he turns his head and finds Shane looking at him.

“Oh my god,” he exhales, because he officially has the best brain ever.

The Shane between his legs is the one he sees every day — the one that sits beside him Monday through Friday, who sometimes flicks paperclips at him from where they’ve migrated from Ryan’s side of the desk; who offers him endless crooked smiles and sometimes brings him tea when he gets himself coffee from the breakroom.

The Shane beside his head is the fresh-faced intern, ready to participate in anything BuzzFeed forces him to in order to work his way up the ranks. He’s clean-shaven and his hair is unstyled and fluffier than usual.

When the younger Shane leans in and kisses him, he’s enthusiastic, his skills less refined as he licks into Ryan’s mouth, but Ryan enjoys it all the same. He’ll take any version of Shane he can get.

He pushes a moan between Shane’s lips when the older Shane takes his cock deeper, the tip bumping the back of his throat.

“Yeah?” Shane asks, pulling back from the kiss. “You like that?”

Ryan does. It feels like he’s falling apart at the seams, and he loves it.

“What do you want?”

Ryan’s feeling selfish, mostly because he knows his brain won’t be kind enough to give him a dream like this again. He needs to take exactly what he wants and savor it.

Ryan cards the fingers of his other hand through the younger Shane’s hair and nudges at him gently.

“Go help him,” he tells him and Shane laughs quietly and glances down the bed, where the other Shane’s bobbing his head like he was made for it.

Ryan realizes it might be a huge mistake when both Shanes peer up at him from between his legs, looking like the best wet dream he’s ever had. The older Shane keeps taking him apart with his mouth, while the younger one kisses along the inside of Ryan’s thigh.

“Oh god,” he sighs and somehow they manage to shift so the younger Shane can lick at his balls. “You’re going to kill me.”

At least if they do, it’ll probably just mean he’ll wake up, but he wants to see it through to the end. Not that it’ll take long, not with the way they’re ganging up on him like this. He moves both hands to clutch at the sheets, needing to do something with them to keep from pulling anyone’s hair out.

With the way the younger Shane is angled, Ryan can see he’s touching himself, his strokes short and quick, just as enthusiastic as his kissing. The view shuts down part of his brain, too hot for him to handle when combined with the way they’re both licking at him.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head tip back, staring at the ceiling because it’s all too much.

One of the Shanes lets out a disappointed noise and says, “Keep watching us.”

Ryan’s subconscious is far more cruel than he ever believed it could be. He drags in a shuddering breath and lifts his head again, finding two sets of eyes watching him.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he pants, dragging a hand through his hair and the older Shane takes his mouth off of him.

“That’s the point, idiot.”

Ryan will never be able to pinpoint when the insults started to become petnames, but he thinks it was sooner than he realizes and he never wants it to change.

"Yeah," he agrees on an exhale, reaching both hands down to rest one on the back of each Shane's head. "C'mon."

They work at him like it's the only ever chance they'll get — and maybe it is. He watches them; how the older Shane takes the lead and how the younger one looks to him like he's searching for answers to his unspoken questions — does Ryan like this? Am I doing a good job?

Ryan rubs his thumb behind the younger Shane's ear, and when  he looks up, says, "You're really good at that."

He can barely get the words out, but he needs Shane to know. And the worst part is that from what he knows about Shane now, the way he flushes and looks away means he's pleased, and then, as if Ryan needs any other attempts on his life, he redoubles his efforts licking and sucking at him.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Ryan pants, his hips lifting off the bed before he can stop them, but the older Shane just takes what he's given, swallowing around him and making Ryan see white.

To say Ryan comes is an understatement. It's the hardest he's ever come in his life and he knows when he wakes up, he'll no doubt have some cleaning to do. But it feels so good, so perfect, and best of all is that when he opens his eyes, he gets to see the younger Shane shudder and come over his own fist between his legs.

"Oh my god," Ryan wheezes, unable to catch his breath.

He doesn't know why the older Shane even bothers licking the mess off his cock, because when he pushes himself to he knees, he offers a view of his reddened cock, which he's clearly been grinding against the bed, because the tip is so wet and he's apparently been waiting for the opportunity. He barely lasts a handful of strokes before he's coming over Ryan's cock and hips, making a mess of him again, but it's so much hotter when it's Shane's come and not his own.

"Holy shit," the younger Shane says eventually and Ryan can't help but agree, but he can barely move, too boneless to even nod his head.

Both Shanes seem to know anyway, because they carefully shift up the bed, one flopping either side of Ryan. The younger Shane tucks himself close to Ryan's side, but the older one just curls an arm around him, like that's all he needs to be comfortable.

"We should definitely do this again," the younger Shane mumbles against his chest and Ryan blows out a breath, almost asleep already, too warm and too comfortable to stay awake.

"I'll try to give my brain the memo."

He shuts his eyes and that's the last thing he remembers.

*

Ryan wakes to the feeling of someone pressed against his back, their arm slung loosely over his hip. He shifts enough to roll over, finding the familiar sight of Shane slowly drifting out of his sleep.

"Hey," Ryan says softly. "I just had the best dream."

Shane grunts like he still needs a moment to wake up before he can respond, and Ryan finds himself smiling softly.

"Dream?" Shane eventually asks and Ryan freezes at the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom.

"Is someone here?" he asks, sitting up and dragging the sheets with him.

When he glances down at Shane, he doesn't seem surprised, which means he knows who's in there.

"What's happening?" Ryan asks, but it doesn't matter because the bathroom door creaks open and the younger, fresh-faced Shane from his dream steps out.

"You're awake," he says with a smile and Ryan looks down at the older Shane in shock.

"What the fuck is going on?"

[blacktofade]

hope you like soft idiots, @ebonybow (jk, I know you do.)

*

Shane’s halfway through buttoning up his pants on a Thursday morning when he notices a shirt in the closet that isn’t his. He pulls up his zip, briefly slips his hands into his pockets to flatten them out against his thighs, and then stares. He knows it’s not his shirt because it’s one that Ryan wears regularly. It’s one of the button-ups with short sleeves that makes his arms look almost as buff as they actually are.

He blinks and glances at the one beside it, hating that he recognizes it as another of Ryan’s.

“Sara?” he calls out, managing to count seven more of Ryan’s shirts before she walks out of the bathroom, toothbrush tucked into the corner of her mouth. She raises her eyebrows in question and Shane gestures broadly.

“Ryan’s stuff is in the closet.” It sounds ridiculous now that he’s said it aloud and Sara frowns as she pulls her toothbrush out, trying not to drip foam everywhere.

“Where else is it meant to be, Shane?”

She says it like Shane’s an idiot — which maybe he is — and then turns and heads back into the bathroom.

“He brings a duffel bag when he stays,” Shane points out, and listens to the water turn on and then off before she returns, wiping her wet mouth with her forearm.

“You want him to live out of a duffel bag?” she asks incredulously, moving around him to grab one of her summer dresses from a hanger.

“No, I — ” Shane starts, but doesn’t really know where he’s going with it. She gives him a pointed look and slips the dress over her head. It ruins the view he’s been enjoying of her in just her underwear, but she offers him her back.

“Zip me.”

He does as he’s told, carefully zipping her dress up before sliding his hands down to her hips for a self-indulgent squeeze. She turns in his hold and looks at him with something akin to fondness.

“Save it for later,” she tells him, though Shane can’t help himself from dipping down to press a kiss to the side of her throat. “Have you seen Ryan’s shoes yet?”

Shane pulls back with a frown, glancing around until he sees what’s she’s talking about — there’s a neat row of shoes in the far corner that are way too stylish to be Shane’s own.

“Huh,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, because the sound of their doorbell rings through the apartment and Sara slips away from him.

He follows her into the hallway, partly out of habit, but when she pulls open the door, it’s just Ryan.

“Coffee,” he greets, a to-go holder balanced on one palm with three coffees tucked into it. He leans in and kisses Sara softly before nudging the door shut with his foot. “Hey, Shane.”

Shane offers a loose wave, watching how easily Sara takes the coffees and heads through towards the kitchen; how Ryan toes off his shoes and trails behind her, probably lured by the enticing scent of both Sara’s perfume and warming pastries Shane had picked up before Sara even woke.

Sara’s in the process of taking them out of the oven when Shane finally gets to the kitchen. Ryan, however, has his iced coffee in one hand and Obi, cradled like a baby in the crook of his other arm. Obi, strangely, seems to be humoring him, despite the warning swishing of his tail.

Shane feels like he’s walked into an alternate universe, where everything is exactly the same, but also not.

What they have with Ryan is casual — at least that’s what he’d have admitted to under oath if someone had asked the second he’d woken up that morning. Now, he’s not so sure. Ryan shoots him a look.

“You okay?”

Shane rakes his fingers through his hair. “Obi likes you.”

Ryan glances down at where Obi looks long-suffering, probably biding his time until he can smother Ryan in his sleep.

“He puts up with me,” Ryan corrects, jiggling Obi slightly until he lets out a low mew of annoyance.

“He doesn’t like strangers,” Shane points out and Ryan lifts an eyebrow at him.

“Do you think I’m a stranger?”

“No, I — ” Shane says quickly, and when he thinks about it, it really is true — Ryan’s no stranger at this point.

It had started casually less than six months prior thanks to a seemingly ill-advised drunken hookup. They’d shared an Uber home after a work party, and it had been far too easy to invite Ryan up. But one night had turned into two, had turned into three, and now Ryan has his shirts and shoes in their closet.

Shane knows what they say about forests and trees, but he thinks that’s what’s happened — and this whole time, he’s been too oblivious to notice. He knows what Ryan is like, the way he loves — he’s seen it in his past relationships — and he knows he’d be remiss to expect that to change just because it’s them. It’s probably never once been casual for Ryan.

He stares at him for a moment before glancing at Sara. She’s already watching Ryan with a fond expression on her face, and Shane gets the sudden feeling that he’s the only one who hasn’t caught up yet.

Carefully, he reaches out, pulling Obi from Ryan’s grip solely so he can set him on the cat tree by the window and move into Ryan’s space.

“Wha —?” Ryan begins, but Shane cuts him off with a soft kiss that he hopes conveys everything he can’t say aloud for fear of sounding like the world’s biggest idiot. Ryan touches his jaw gently and returns it like he can’t help himself. When Shane eventually pulls back, Ryan asks, “What was that for?”

Shane doesn’t answer, instead says, “If you need us to make more space for you in the closet, just say.”

Ryan’s expression softens almost immediately and he smiles. “Even if it’s for all my jerseys?”

Shane sighs, making it sound like it’s a hardship before he finally nods. “I guess.”

The way Ryan’s face brightens with excitement makes Shane wonder how he ever could have missed Ryan’s intentions.

“Okay, well, since you’ve Marie Kondo’d our closet, can we eat now?” Sara asks, nudging them gently.

“Yes,” Ryan agrees, slipping away from Shane like food is way more important, which might be true.

He rolls his eyes for Sara’s benefit and she grins and takes Ryan’s place, pressing close to Shane and encouraging him to lean down for a kiss.

“Took you long enough,” she whispers when they pull away, and then she bats at Shane’s ass with her palm. “C’mon. Grub.”

Shane can’t help but follow her over to the table, knowing he has everything he needs now.

[blacktofade]

For @wooshie-woosh​, who prompted, “they wouldn’t let me visit you in the hospital room unless i was family so i told them we’re married.”

*

Shane’s eyes are closed when Ryan steps into the room and shuts the door behind himself. He’s breathing evenly, but the silence is punctuated by intermittent snores, so loud that Ryan knows he must be on some kind of medication because Shane never snores. There’s a chair beside the bed that Ryan carefully lowers himself into before resting his fingers at the edge of Shane’s sheets. He wants to touch, but isn’t sure he’s allowed.

“You idiot,” he says gently. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

Shane snorts on a particularly deep inhale and jerks himself awake, hands flailing and tugging at his IV line in a way that looks uncomfortable. Ryan quickly reaches out to grab his wrists, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself as he settles.

“Wha — ” Shane says, voice rough and confused, like he has no idea what’s actually happening.

“It’s just me,” Ryan tells him. “It’s Ryan.”

Shane looks over at him and blinks for a moment, before slumping into the pillows, his arms finally relaxing where Ryan has them pressed to the soft fabric of his hospital gown.

“Ryan?” he asks and turns his hand to grip at Ryan’s fingers like a lifeline. “You came to visit.”

“You stupid fucking idiot,” Ryan says and Shane’s gaze is sluggish, a tinge of sedation to it, like they’ve given him the good stuff.

“‘M thinking that’s not the first time you’ve said that.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Physically or mentally?”

“Shane,” Ryan implores and Shane lets out a laugh that doesn’t quite sound sober. It cuts off almost immediately as Shane pulls his hand away to press it to his side.

“Don’t make me laugh, Ryan,” he pleads and Ryan moves his hands to rest beside Shane's body, fingertips barely brushing the covers over his hip.

“What did you do, dummy?”

“I’m hurt, Ryan. You're legally obligated to be nicer to me,” Shane says, rolling his head to the side to keep watching Ryan without moving any further.

“No, I'm not,” Ryan snaps. “If you die, I need you to know how fucking stupid I think you are.”

Shane laughs again, but his hand finds Ryan’s once more like that’s the way it is now.

“I already know that,” Shane tells him. “But I’m not going to die. Just a few cuts and bruises.”

“Shane,” Ryan says in disbelief, “your lung collapsed.”

“Yeah, and I got a cool tube to reinflate it — want to see?”

He lifts his arm like he’s going to push aside his gown and show it off, but Ryan drags it back down with an emphatic, “No, Shane.”

Shane watches him for a moment before saying, “I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“I know,” Ryan replies, dragging his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “If you weren’t so stupidly tall, you wouldn’t have fallen so far. Why were you even standing on that chair?”

“I was helping with lighting for a video. I didn’t mean to lose my balance.”

Ryan hadn’t seen it happen, but he’d heard the commotion and when he’d gone to investigate, had seen Shane sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and looking far too pale.

Ryan drops his head down, pressing his brow to the cool metal of the railing at the side of Shane’s bed. He takes a steadying breath and lets it out slowly. There’s the light touch of a hand on his neck, and Shane’s fingers rub across his skin soothingly.

“You okay?” Shane asks gently and Ryan laughs and finally raises his head.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“I don’t know. So far all you’ve done is call me stupid.”

Ryan doesn’t think he has to say aloud that it’s his own way of admitting how much he cares. He hopes Shane already knows and the softness of his expression hints that he does. He goes to open his mouth and maybe try to put words to how he’s feeling, but there’s a knock on the door.

“Hi, Shane,” says the woman in scrubs who opens it and steps inside, and Shane lifts a hand to wave at her like they’re well acquainted. She glances at Ryan and smiles softly. “This must be your husband; they mentioned someone was visiting.”

Ryan can feel Shane’s gaze burning into the side of his head, but he avoids turning to look, praying that Shane knows to go along with it.

“Ryan Madej,” Ryan lies, holding his hand out for the nurse to shake, which she does.

“Arlene,” she replies. “You must be the Ryan he was asking for when he was sedated.”

Ryan actually turns to look at Shane then because perhaps they both have their own secrets. Shane doesn’t quite seem able to meet his eyes.

“I’m just here to change your dressing, Shane,” Arlene says, moving to the side of the bed opposite Ryan. “I’ll get out of your way soon — I know you guys probably want some quality time together after everything.”

Arlene is methodical as she exposes Shane’s side only enough to peel away the old bandage and check whatever it is she’s actually checking. Ryan, thankfully, can’t see much from where he’s sitting, but he can see the uncomfortable expression on Shane’s face and it’s the easiest thing in the world to slip his hand into Shane’s own and squeeze encouragingly. Shane squeezes back.

“He’s been a good patient,” Arlene tells Ryan as she carefully tapes a clean dressing over Shane’s side.

“I’m your favorite,” Shane jokes and Arlene makes a thoughtful face.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replies coolly and Shane laughs, clutching at his ribs again.

“You guys need to stop that,” Shane complains. “It hurts.”

Arlene pats his shoulder and then tucks the sheets back around him.

“You’ll get your next dose of pain medication with lunch,” she promises, before adding, “Don’t do anything that might pull at your tube.”

“No handstands,” Ryan tells him and Arlene glances over like maybe she was thinking Ryan would be the one to exacerbate things.

At his frown, she says, “No heavy petting.”

Ryan’s face heats. “We wouldn’t — ”

“That’s what they all say. Just keep your hands to yourselves,” she advises, but then she’s moving towards the door. “It was nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“You too,” Ryan replies weakly and the door shuts behind her, leaving them in silence.

There’s a beat, and then another, before Shane says, “Ryan Madej?”

Ryan drops his head back to the bed railing and lets out a heavy breath.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I was family,” he admits. “In hindsight, I should’ve just said I was a cousin, not your husband.”

Shane huffs a laugh and sounds fond when he says, “Oh, Ryan,” even though it also sounds like he thinks Ryan’s an idiot.

Ryan sits upright to meet Shane’s gaze. “Yeah, well, what have you got to say about apparently asking for me when you were high?”

Shane gives half a shrug, looking casual. “If you’re trying to embarrass me, it won’t work.”

“Because you have no shame?”

“‘Cause I’m not embarrassed about asking for you.”

Another flush hits Ryan’s face and he clears his throat. “Cute.”

“Is that why you married me?”

“Shane,” Ryan pleads, but Shane doesn’t look repentant.

“I’m marriage material.”

“You’re on very strong drugs that have weakened your inhibitions,” Ryan tries to joke and Shane frowns.

“How dare you,” he says. “How dare you suggest I’ve ever had inhibitions.”

“Is there a button I can press to get Arlene back in here to knock you out?”

“This’ll end in divorce,” Shane says and Ryan finally reaches across to press a palm over his mouth. Shane looks at him with soft eyes that crinkle in the corners like he’s smiling under Ryan’s palm.

“Shane, shut the fuck up.”

He pulls his hand away and Shane almost lasts a full thirty seconds before he speaks.

“You always say the sweetest things.”

“I'm never going to hear the end of this,” Ryan mutters and Shane grins crookedly.

“It doesn't sound right, you know.”

Ryan glances down, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice as he says, “What? Us being together?”

“No, you taking my last name. Shane Bergara sounds way cooler.”

When Ryan looks up at him, Shane's watching him like he knows each and every dark secret Ryan has, like he knows just how panicked Ryan's been over the past day, trying to get to Shane's side. He sets his hand over one of Ryan's own and rubs his thumb along Ryan's knuckles.

“You know,” he says and Ryan can already tell that whatever it is that's about to leave Shane's mouth won't be good, “Arlene said no heavy petting.”

Ryan frowns at him. “Yeah, I was here for it if you’ve already forgotten.”

“I mean, she didn’t say anything about light petting.”

Ryan has to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What?”

“If you wanted to lay one on me, you could.”

“Lay one on you,” Ryan says as blandly as he can manage with his heart trying to thunder its way out of his chest.

“I could lay one on you, but you'd have to help me sit up and that would defeat the purpose.”

Ryan stares at Shane, feeling like maybe the drugs he’s on are stronger than he first thought. Shane stares back and Ryan becomes aware of an incessant beeping that pulls him from the moment. Looking over, he finds it’s the sound of the heart rate monitor Shane’s hooked up to. He blinks and Shane clears his throat.

“No cheating,” he says and Ryan looks back at him.

“What?”

“I’m over here trying to play it cool. Pretend you can’t hear that.”

Ryan realizes then that the uptick in Shane’s pulse is because of him. As calm and collected Shane appears on the outside making his little jokes about kissing, he’s internally freaking out, and Ryan can appreciate that, because he is too.

“Are you panicking because you don’t want me to do anything?”

“I’m not panicking,” Shane lies. “But if I were, it might be because I thought I was going to die earlier, which, looking back, I’ll admit is dramatic, but I kept thinking about how you might never know what I want.”

Ryan swallows. “What do you want?”

“Mostly you,” Shane says, causing another uptick on the heart rate monitor and it’s endearing how Shane tries his best to ignore it. “Maybe a cheeseburger.”

A silence stretches out between them as Ryan tries to organize his thoughts, but Shane’s expression shifts, like he’s thinking Ryan isn’t saying anything because he’s trying to find a way to let him down gently.

“I can only give you one of those things,” he blurts out, which doesn’t seem to help until he clarifies, “and it’s not the cheeseburger.”

The heart rate monitor kicks into overdrive then and Ryan glances at it, worried. “Are they going to think you’re having a heart attack in here?”

“Arlene is definitely going to assume there’s heavy petting going on.”

“What are rumors without a little truth to them?” Ryan says and Shane looks at him, his cheeks beginning to redden.

“So you are going to lay one on me?”

Ryan pushes himself up out of his chair and stands flush with the edge of the bed, peering down at Shane who looks anticipatory. With the beeping echoing around the room, Ryan gently sets a hand against the side of Shane’s face, feeling the heat of his skin while he bends at the waist to press their lips together softly.

Shane makes a quiet noise against his mouth and immediately tries to deepen it. Ryan pulls away, using his other hand on Shane’s shoulder to keep him from rising up to try to chase him.

“You call that a kiss?” Shane complains and Ryan swipes his thumb along Shane’s cheekbone.

“No heavy petting,” he reminds him and Shane scoffs.

“No heavy petting doesn’t mean no tongue. Kiss your husband like you mean it.”

Ryan blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I don’t know why I was worried about you. You’re still an idiot.”

“Okay, Ryan Madej,” Shane says, shifting a hand to the back of Ryan's head and pulling him in for another kiss. Ryan doesn’t fight it because it’s exactly what he wants and Shane’s mouth is soft against his own. Slowly, the beeping from the heart rate monitor evens out and Shane carefully pulls away. “See? You’re good for my health.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, but presses back in for another kiss, knowing it can tell Shane everything he can’t put into words, and for now, it’s enough.

[blacktofade]

“Are you actually mad at me?” Ryan asks as Shane carefully backs out of his parking space. He glances at Ryan as he puts the car into gear, but doesn’t say anything as he drives towards the parking lot exit and smoothly joins the main road.

Ryan blows out a quiet breath and adjusts the seatbelt from where it feels too tight across his chest.

“It just took forever to record the episode,” he says, “and it was so cold in the studio today.”

Shane glances over again and Ryan wonders if maybe he’s getting his point across. Shane holds his gaze, almost long enough for Ryan to worry that he should probably pay attention to the road, but then he turns back, hands at ten and two. Without a word, Shane reaches out and switches on the car’s heating, cranking the dial as high as it’ll go and blasting Ryan with hot air.

“Ugh,” Ryan complains, batting his hands away and turning it off again. It’s almost eighty degrees outside and the additional heat reminds Ryan just how damp he is under his arms. But he also thinks he deserves it a little.

“I’m sorry,” he tries as Shane turns his signal on and gets into the left lane, carefully going around a slow-moving garbage truck. Shane doesn’t even react, like he just doesn’t hear Ryan. They get stopped at the next red light and the car fills with awkward silence. Ryan fiddles with his beanie, pulling it off and ruffling his hair before shoving it back onto his head.

“I wasn’t the only one complaining,” he reasons. “Sara was too.”

“You were being a brat,” Shane snaps finally and Ryan honestly isn’t expecting it. Firstly, Shane never raises his voice to Ryan, not outside of joking around anyway. Secondly, Ryan hasn’t been called a brat since probably elementary school.

“What?” he asks with half a laugh and Shane finally looks over at him.

“You were being a brat,” Shane repeats and it’s softer, but no less of an accusation.

“Ouch,” Ryan jokes and Shane shrugs like that's just what he believes.

“You were.”

“Okay, but you’re no stranger to me complaining,” Ryan points out. “But you’re actually pissed off about it today.”

The light turns green and Shane accelerates hard enough that it jerks Ryan back in his seat. It falls quiet between them again, but Ryan stares at Shane, trying to burn the side of Shane’s face with his gaze and force a response from him. Though Shane’s always been immune to his stares anyway.

“C’mon,” Ryan says. “Give me something.”

The material of the steering wheel creaks as Shane tightens and shifts his grip on it.

“I don’t know what you want,” Shane replies and Ryan lets out a noise of disbelief.

“Are you even listening to me? I’m just trying to figure out why today was so different.”

“You were annoying me.”

“Yeah, and how is that not the same as every other day?”

“Maybe today I just don’t have time for your shit,” Shane tells him, with a pointed look that says Ryan’s testing his patience again.

Ryan blows out a frustrated sigh and absentmindedly tugs at a thread on his sleeve. He hates the thought of genuinely annoying Shane. He always labels their on-screen jabs as banter, but maybe he’s been wrong, and not just today — maybe he’s pissed Shane off before but Shane’s been less obvious about it.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again and Shane shifts his shoulders, like he’s trying to roll out the tension. “Maybe it’s just a bad day for both of us.”

Shane doesn’t respond again and perhaps it’s because he doesn’t want to admit he’s had a bad day, or perhaps he just thinks Ryan doesn’t deserve an explanation. Either way, it’s frustrating when Ryan is trying to fix his own fuck up. With a quiet breath of resignation, Ryan gives in and turns to look out the window instead. He’s suffered through enough awkwardly-silent car rides with Shane to know he’ll survive this one.

It’s a relief when Shane finally parks outside Ryan’s apartment building and Ryan can start gathering up his jacket and water bottle, before double checking his pockets for his phone and wallet. He glances over at Shane one last time, but Shane’s staring at his hands on the wheel.

“See you tomorrow?” Ryan says, not really expecting a response, which is lucky, because Shane doesn’t give one. At least, not to what he says.

Instead, Shane blurts out, “I wanted you to like the episode.”

Ryan pauses and then slowly takes his hand off the door from where he was about to open it because it sounds like maybe they’re getting somewhere.

As gently as possible, so as not to send Shane back into his angry silence, Ryan says, “I did like the episode.”

“You literally wrote me a note when we were shooting that said ‘this story sucks’.”

Okay, so maybe Ryan was meaner than he thought he was.

“I got a little bored,” he admits, because honesty always seems to work with Shane. “But that doesn’t mean the episode sucked. You know what my attention span is like.”

Shane looks at him like he does know, but that it doesn’t particularly help in this scenario.

“It was a fun topic,” Ryan tries. “I learned a lot.”

"Jesus," Shane sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It sounds like you're filling out a college class evaluation, except that you never showed up for lectures and don't know what to write."

It's an unexpected joke and Ryan can't stop himself from laughing, partly because it's true. "Oh god," he says, "have I made things worse?"

Shane exhales loud enough to probably count as a laugh and cards his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine,” Shane sighs and when he looks at Ryan, he looks softer and less angry.

Cautiously, Ryan asks, “Are we good?”

“Were we ever bad?”

“It felt like it a little,” Ryan admits. “But they say not to go to bed angry.”

Shane sighs again and then glances away from Ryan, staring straight ahead out of the windshield. Ryan’s pretty familiar with most of Shane’s emotions — they spend a lot of time together, so it’s only natural. Except that Ryan gets the distinct impression that Shane seems nervous of all things now.

“I might have overreacted,” Shane says suddenly, and it feels like a trap, so Ryan doesn’t answer. “I — uh. I — ”

He doesn’t seem to be able to get out whatever it is he’s trying to say.

“Is it really that hard for you to say I’m sorry?” Ryan jokes and Shane rubs the back of his neck.

“That’s not what I was trying to say.”

“I know. Do you want to write it down?”

Shane tips his head back to stare at the roof of the car. “Can I make a rash decision?”

“Sure. I mean, I was a dick today, so you get a free pass to do whatever you want, right?”

Ryan’s hands are occupied, which means he can’t actually do anything when Shane lunges at him. Honestly, Shane’s probably well within his rights to get a hit off on Ryan, but Ryan braces for a punch that never comes. Instead, Shane grips his jaw, keeping him right where he is before finding Ryan’s mouth with his own.

Ryan drops his bottle of water and it thuds loudly in the footwell between his shoes, but he barely notices. Shane’s mouth is warm and soft, and the scratch of his stubble isn’t as bad as he thinks it should be. He almost gets to the point of returning the kiss when Shane draws away completely, leaving cold spots on Ryan’s face from losing the warmth of his fingers.

Sitting back, Shane looks a little shell shocked like he can’t believe what’s happened. Which is ironic since he’s the one who did it. Ryan touches his own mouth and stares at Shane, who does nothing but stare back.

“Uh,” Ryan says, watching Shane swallow.

“I told myself I’d tell you today, but then I got angry at you instead.”

Ryan carefully sorts through the chaos in his brain. “You kissed me,” he says eventually. “I annoyed you and you kissed me.”

“I didn’t plan on either,” Shane tells him, “if that helps.”

Ryan blinks at him. “The one time you really get angry at me and it’s because you’re stressed out about telling me you love me.”

“I don’t love you,” Shane complains, like that’s Ryan’s point.

“You have a big, fat crush on me,” Ryan amends.

“Is this how you treat everyone who bares their soul to you?”

Ryan shrugs with one shoulder. “I guess. You’re the first to do it.”

Shane watches him quietly for a moment. “What do you think?”

“About you baring your soul?”

“No, about the weather,” he snaps sarcastically. “Yeah, about that.”

“Can I make a rash decision?” Ryan parrots before he reaches for Shane.

Shane meets him halfway over the center console for a kiss that’s a lot more confident than Shane’s first attempt.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Ryan says when they part and Shane quickly kisses him again.

“You can make it up to me,” he promises and Ryan pulls back to quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Like with a blowjob or with dinner?”

The corner of Shane’s mouth twitches. “We can see what happens first.”

Ryan grunts in agreement and pulls Shane back in towards him.

[blacktofade]

sorry for almost killing ryan in my fit of angst. I promise he’s okay.

*

Shane doesn’t see it happen, only hears Ryan’s shout of surprise and turns, shining his flashlight down on where Ryan's now sprawled on the ground. Shane laughs at first, because it's clear Ryan's tripped and taken a short tumble down the two stone steps it takes to get to the back yard from the low decking of the property they're investigating.

“You alright, man?” he asks before Ryan shifts and Shane sees the wide shock of his eyes. “I hope we got that on camera.”

But then Ryan lets out a deep, haunting noise as he clutches at his right thigh with a white-knuckled grip and Shane realizes something’s gone horribly wrong.

“Ryan?” he asks, heart picking up speed as he closes the distance between them and drops to one knee, uncaring that it happens to be straight into the middle of a puddle. He sets his camera on the top-most step next to him and then presses a hand to Ryan’s leg.

Ryan lets out a shuddering breath, something strangled and pained, and when he inhales it sounds, horrifically, like a wail. Mark and TJ are there in an instant, cameras and audio equipment all but forgotten as they rush in, shining flashlights down on Ryan and illuminating a gruesome scene.

Looking down, Shane doesn’t know what he expects to find — maybe a broken leg or a bad cut from the rocks underfoot — but instead there’s blood, dark and seeping along the leg of Ryan’s pants. It’s bubbling up between Ryan’s fingers and Shane feels nauseated by the sight.

“Ryan,” Shane says gently, leaning further over him. “Let me see, buddy.”

Ryan doesn’t move his hands, probably from the shock, but as Shane gets closer, focusing his flashlight on his leg, he realizes there’s something shoved up between Ryan’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” Shane murmurs. “Fuck.”

“I’m calling for an ambulance,” Mark tells them, stepping back with his phone and TJ crouches at Ryan’s other side.

“Fuck,” he says, resting a comforting hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Is that rebar?”

He’s right, but Shane really doesn’t want to agree aloud, not when Ryan’s writhing in panic as much as he can when his leg is effectively pinned in place by a metal rod. He looks terrified and Shane can’t stop his hands from shaking as he presses them beside Ryan’s own.

“I need to put pressure on this, Ryan,” he says, because that’s all he can think to do. He has no fucking idea what he should be doing, but that’s what they always do in movies and TV. “Don’t move, okay?”

But that’s better said than done because Ryan’s still shifting in pain, every breath sounding like it’s an effort.

“Shane,” he croaks, and Shane leans into his line of sight, still keeping his hands on him.

“Hey, hey,” Shane comforts gently. “You’re okay.”

But the truth is that he honestly doesn’t know if that’s a lie or not. There’s so much blood, gushing between his fingers, soaking into the knees of Shane’s jeans already, and all he can do is lean his weight through his hands onto Ryan’s thigh. Ryan gasps in pain and when Shane next glances at his face, it’s wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Shane apologizes. “There’s just — ”

He can’t bring himself to say there’s just too much blood because he knows what Ryan’s like. He really doesn’t need to panic him because it won’t help anything. Not that Shane has much room to talk. He thinks he’s panicking enough for the both of them.

“Fuck,” he says, glancing over at TJ, who looks pale and worried, but he’s rubbing Ryan’s shoulder soothingly and keeping Ryan calm, which is probably almost as important as the pressure Shane’s providing. TJ catches his stare and Shane knows it’s bad.

“Ryan,” TJ says, voice shaking enough that Shane can hear it above the noise of Ryan’s raspy breathing. “Try not to move, okay? There’s an ambulance on the way.”

Shane doesn’t even know if Ryan hears because he doesn’t react. Instead, he keeps his focus on Shane.

“Shane,” Ryan says again, and Shane figures it’s because Shane’s the one actually hurting him, even if he’s trying to do good.

“I know, Ryan,” he consoles, “I’m sorry.”

“Shane,” Ryan repeats. “Shane, I don’t feel right.”

“I know,” Shane replies and his voice is tighter with more emotion than he expects. “I know, pal, just hang in there.”

Ryan takes a shuddering breath and reaches out with an unsteady hand. It takes him a couple of tries to find Shane’s shoulder, but then he clutches at Shane’s jacket in a loose grip.

“Shane,” Ryan says weakly, “don’t let me die.”

“Jesus,” Shane curses, glancing over at TJ for reassurance.

“Don’t be dramatic, Ryan, you’re not going to die,” TJ tells him. “It’s a flesh wound at best.”

But Shane can tell that’s a lie. With the amount of blood he’s trying to keep behind the tight press of his hands, he’d be willing to bet the rebar has nicked something important and if help doesn’t come soon, they’ll find out just how serious it really is.

“It’s okay, Ryan,” Shane says. “You’ll be outta here soon.”

He doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep, but he has to believe help is on the way already, hopefully almost there because Shane doesn’t know what else to do. Ryan’s losing so much blood and Shane can’t do anything more to stop it. It’s so hot beneath his palms and it’s soaking into everything — Ryan’s pants, his hoodie, the sleeves of Shane’s shirt.

“Keep breathing with me,” Shane tells him, trying to make his breaths as deep and even as he can for him to follow, but Ryan’s gaze turn glassy and distant. “C’mon, Ryan.”

“Just gonna sleep,” Ryan murmurs, his eyes already beginning to droop tiredly.

“No, no,” Shane insists. “Don’t sleep, Ryan. C’mon keep talking to me.”

He’s dimly aware of sirens growing louder, and he’s never heard a more reassuring sound.

“Help is here, Ryan. Stay with me.”

He almost startles at the touch on his hand, but when he glances down, he finds Ryan’s settled his palm over the back of his own. It probably took the rest of his strength and coordination to do, and Shane’s heart clenches painfully.

“Stay awake just a little longer,” he begs, but Ryan’s arm goes lax, his hand slipping away, and Shane misses his touch immediately. “Please, Ryan.”

Ryan’s eyes finally slip shut and Shane’s entire world grinds to a halt.

*

Shane wakes to the feeling of fingers in his hair. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but slowly, he raises his head and glances up at Ryan. He’d look cozy tucked up in his hospital bed if not for the mess of IV lines around him and the fact that he's literally been brought back from the dead. Shane draws in a slow breath and leans up, rubbing at his painful, tired eyes.

“Hey,” Ryan says gently, his voice rougher than usual. “Have you been here all night?”

“Someone had to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re not talking about you, are you?” Ryan asks. “Because I’ve been watching and neither of your eyes were open.”

Shane waits a beat before asking, “You were watching me?”

When Ryan finally smiles, Shane realizes it’s one of the best things he’s ever seen. He pushes himself to his feet before he can talk himself out of it, and then he’s shifting closer to Ryan and leaning down to kiss him.

It’s entirely unplanned, but almost losing Ryan has rearranged a few priorities in Shane’s life. And the best part is that Ryan doesn’t try to push him away, in fact, he raises his hand, and despite accidentally jabbing Shane in the cheek with the oximeter on the tip of his finger, he eventually settles his palm against Shane’s jaw and kisses him back.

“I think we have a few things to talk about when you’re out of here,” Shane tells him when he can eventually bring himself to pull away again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Firstly, you got blood all over my favorite pants, so I’m going to need you to pay me back for those.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a — ” Ryan starts, but cuts himself off by dragging Shane back in for another kiss.

With Ryan warm and alive under him, Shane honestly can’t think of a better outcome.

[blacktofade]

This shit is real horny (ayoooo); don’t read at work.

*

“Do they know how far you’ve fallen?” Shane asks, leaning in to nose behind Ryan’s ear. “Do they know who you always come to see?”

Ryan’s on his knees, face pressed into the sheets of Shane’s bed, and he’s breathing rhythmically in time to every thrust. Shane thinks the only thing keeping Ryan’s hips in the air is the tight grip he has on them.

“Shane,” Ryan pants, his hands grappling at the nearest pillow, as though he needs something to cling to.

“Does Heaven know its best angel is fraternizing with the enemy?”

Ryan’s wings are curled up close to his back, but they twitch at the sound of Shane’s voice and Shane’s hoping Ryan will stretch them out for him if he tries hard enough.

“You are, too,” Ryan points out, voice muffled in the sheets.

Shane slows his thrusts and then pulls back, keeping only the tip of his cock inside Ryan to see how it stretches him. Ryan makes a hollow noise, like Shane’s ruining his life — which Shane is, but they don't need to talk about it.

“That’s what demons do, Ryan,” he replies coolly. “They gave me a trophy for taking your virginity.”

It was eons ago now, back when Ryan was new to Earth and still a fresh-faced angel who naively thought he could convince Shane that being bad was overrated. Seducing Ryan had been one of his crowning achievements, both for demonkind, but also for himself. He hadn’t had to feed from any human souls for almost a whole month after, the taste of Ryan’s inevitable acquiescence lingering in his body.

Ryan had been so sweet that first time, a true blushing virgin, and Shane had fucked him the way he’d deserved. He’d been so pliant and easy, and absolutely delighted by everything Shane had given him. And ever since then, he’s been coming back to Shane for more and Shane can never say no.

“No they didn’t,” Ryan grunts and Shane doesn’t bother arguing that it’s actually one of the few true things he’s told Ryan. He has the trophy in the back of his bathroom cabinet.

Shane tightens his hold on Ryan’s hip and returns to fucking him, punching the breath straight out of Ryan in a loud exhale.

“I hate you,” Ryan hisses, reaching a hand back to grab at Shane’s hair. His fingers catch on one of Shane’s horns and Shane bites back a moan.

“Angels aren’t meant to lie,” Shane tells him and Ryan turns his head enough to glance at him from the corners of his eyes.

“It’s not a lie.”

Shane slides his other hand up into the soft feathers of Ryan’s wings, gripping the elbow of one and squeezing just enough to make it unfurl.

“I think it is. Tell me how much you want this,” Shane says, setting his teeth against Ryan’s shoulder and swiping at his sweat-damp skin with his tongue. He tastes like salt and goodwill and it burns at his mouth.

Shane knows from the silence alone that Ryan’s trying his best to hold out. He’s probably biting back a thousand things he doesn’t want Shane to know, that Shane doesn’t deserve to know.

“You keep coming back to me,” Shane says after sucking a dark red mark onto Ryan’s skin. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in love.”

Ryan lets out a strangled moan and Shane tries his best not to break rhythm, because it sounds more like a noise of half-hearted denial than one of protest. Ryan hides his face in the crook of his arm and his other hand disappears out of sight, probably so he can touch himself.

Shane files it away. As much as he enjoys teasing Ryan, he can't bring himself to point out the obvious and it somehow seems forbidden.

“Tell me you want this,” Shane murmurs instead, speeding up his thrusts and continuing to tug at Ryan's wing. He smooths down the feathers as Ryan finally stretches them both out, giving Shane what he always wants.

“I want this,” Ryan says and Shane nudges Ryan's thighs apart a little further, letting him press in deeper. He's so hot and tight, and Shane thinks he could lose himself like this, thinks he probably has. “I want this so much, Shane.”

Shane knows Ryan's close. Under his palm, he can feel the vibrations of Ryan's wing, like Shane's the only thing keeping Ryan tethered to the ground, like if Shane lets go, Ryan will just fly away.

“Do you want to know my secret?” Shane asks and Ryan shakes his head.

“No,” he lies again, and he's lucky Shane can see straight through him. Shane presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

“I want this too.”

Ryan shakes apart beneath him, his voice loud as he cries out, and for just a fraction of a second, Shane gets the faint view of his halo. It's tilted slightly to one side like the force of Shane's thrusts has knocked it loose.

“That's it,” Shane murmurs, gently carding his fingers through the feathers of Ryan's wings. “Just like that.”

Ryan's squeezing so tightly around him, Shane can barely think, but he keeps fucking him through his orgasm until he's arching away, making soft noises from overstimulation.

“Shane, Shane,” he pleads and Shane pauses, halfway buried inside him.

“Roll over,” Shane tells him, pulling the rest of the way out and shifting back to give Ryan space.

Ryan tucks his wings away as he flops onto the side of the bed not streaked with his come and he reaches up for Shane. Shane thinks briefly about pushing back inside him and finishing that way, but then Ryan gets a hand on him. Shane hums quietly and pushes into the tight circle of Ryan's fingers.

Ryan has a deep flush across his face and Shane leans down to drag his lips along his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin. It's borderline tender and Ryan gets his other hand on the back of Shane's head. He's guides Shane's mouth to his own and Shane lets him lick messily between his lips like he's the demon in this situation.

Ryan's grip is perfect as he strokes Shane, and Shane can't imagine anyone else giving him this. He pushes a moan into Ryan's mouth because he can't say aloud what he's feeling and what he wants.

He shoves down, once, twice, and then comes, making a mess of Ryan's hand and stomach. Ryan strokes him through it, his grip loosening before Shane can even tell him he's had enough. When Ryan finally lets him go, he moves his hand to Shane's hip and rubs gently.

Shane pulls his mouth away, but nudges their noses together and Ryan lets out a soft noise.

“Shane,” he murmurs, his fingers finding one of Shane's horns again. It makes his body tingle and he thinks about saying something, but Ryan already knows how sensitive they are. It's done purposefully.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Shane tells him, which he thinks is the right thing to say, but it's another truth and he's not sure Ryan believes him again.

“Okay,” Ryan says carefully, but there's hope in his voice as he draws Shane back to his mouth, and Shane finds it's easier to say what he means through kisses anyway.

[blacktofade]

Anon, you understand me. I’ll take every opportunity possible to make those bfu lads slutty ✌️

*

The thing is that Ryan can’t even truly blame the alcohol. He’s had a couple of shots, sure, but they’re not enough to get him drunk. They’re not enough to excuse the way he pins Shane to the side of his car with hot hands and an even hotter mouth.

And the other thing is that Shane is stone-cold sober. He’s the designated driver for the night, which means there definitely isn’t an excuse for the way he slips his hands up the back of Ryan’s shirt and stops him from moving away. Not that Ryan plans to, not with the way Shane kisses back like it’s the best decision he’s ever made, like he’s going to ruin Ryan the minute he gets the chance.

Ryan plans to give him that chance.

“Take me home,” he tells Shane when he pulls back to breathe, and Shane drags his mouth along Ryan’s cheek to press a kiss below his ear.

“Was trying to,” he murmurs and Ryan shivers at the thought that maybe he hasn't been the only one waiting to make a move all night.

“Then do something about it,” Ryan orders and Shane does.

*

He takes Ryan back to his apartment, where Obi winds around their ankles in the hallway, where he pins Ryan against his bedroom door and lets him feel how his cock is fattening up in his chinos, where he undresses Ryan like his clothes have personally offended him. Ryan doesn’t care about finesse. He’s not looking for a slow and tender first time. They'll have plenty of opportunities for that in the future.

He wants it hard and fast. He wants to get fucked until he forgets his own name.

“C’mon,” he pants when Shane starts to finger him the way he needs. He’s not being gentle and Ryan wonders if he’s always like this with the people he takes home, or if it’s especially for Ryan.

“Bossy,” Shane tells him before sinking his teeth into his shoulder. His bite is sharper than it seems and Ryan leans into the pressure as Shane gives him another finger. It’s too much and not enough, all at once.

“Fuck,” he grunts, but Shane moves them, twists Ryan until he’s face down, his knees spread wide as Shane gets his fingers back into him. It’s perfect.

Every guy Ryan’s ever been with has been a one-night-stand, but Shane just knows him. He seems to understand what Ryan needs, and what he needs is to be pinned by the back of his neck and fucked.

“You’ve been pushing for this,” Shane says, fingers carding the wrong way through Ryan’s hair and gripping hard enough to sting. “All night.”

Ryan thinks it’s generous of him not to call Ryan out completely. Ryan’s been pushing for weeks, months, for Shane to do something, toeing the line of their friendship to a point that was probably obnoxious. But it turns out he has the weaker restraint out of both of them anyway, because he technically caved first.

“Shane,” he pleads. “C’mon.”

He doesn’t even know if he’s stretched enough, because of course Shane’s ridiculously well-endowed. But Shane starts pressing the fat head of his cock where his fingers just were and Ryan’s breath catches in his throat. He’s so slick and insistent, and it’s an easier slide in than Ryan expects.

“Oh my god,” he groans, because he doesn’t think it should feel that good. He should feel fucked open and sore already, but he doesn’t.

“Want more?” Shane asks, and Ryan feels a laugh escape at the fact that Shane never once gives him an actual choice, just keeps pressing in and in, giving him more than he could ever need.

Ryan shoves a hand down his front to touch himself, his grip firm and unrelenting — as unrelenting as Shane when he pushes in as deep as he can get and then holds. Ryan presses his face into the sheets; he feels so full and Shane’s palms are like fire where they’re tightly clutching Ryan’s waist.

“Gonna move or just keeping warm?” Ryan gets out between heavy breaths and Shane isn’t meant to laugh, but he does.

“Them’s fightin’ words,” Shane tells him and Ryan doesn’t get the chance to worry what that means before Shane’s shifting, rolling his hips and giving Ryan what he wants.

Ryan can’t help the moan he lets out and it’s embarrassingly loud — enough so that Shane falters in his next thrust.

“Jesus, Ryan,” Shane says, like it in any way surprises him that Ryan’s noisy in bed. “Are you always like this?”

Ryan moans again, partly because he can’t stop it from slipping out as Shane shoves in deeper, and partly because he wants it to be his answer.

“Should’ve known,” Shane murmurs as he picks up the pace, jolting Ryan harder, the sound of their bodies becoming louder. It’s just what Ryan needs and every breath he takes is harsh and ragged and not nearly enough to fill his lungs properly.

“Harder,” he orders, trying to spread his knees a little wider as Shane shifts, putting more pressure on Ryan’s waist as he changes his thrusts, turning them short and sharp instead. They’re not necessarily harder, but they’re good.

Ryan tucks his face into the crook of his own elbow, speeding up the hand on his cock.

“You really like this, don’t you?”

Ryan doesn’t know if it’s rhetorical, but it’s definitely true — he does like it, but he likes even more that it’s Shane doing it to him. He can feel the way Shane’s slowly falling apart too. The way his hands shake against Ryan’s body, how his breathing has turned shallow, and Ryan doesn’t think he’s the only one enjoying things.

“Make me come,” Ryan grits out, voice muffled, but he knows Shane hears because suddenly Shane’s knocking Ryan’s hand away from his cock and touching him himself. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s the hand Shane used when he was fingering him because it’s wet with lube still and the slickness of his strokes feels better than Ryan ever imagined it could. He reaches out to clutch at Shane’s pillows, pulling one closer and burying his face into it. It smells like the minty shampoo Shane uses and Ryan can’t believe he gets this now.

Shane folds his stupidly long body over him, mouth finding Ryan’s neck. “Let me hear you,” he says and Ryan knows he’s a lost cause.

He lifts his head, just enough to let Shane hear the groan he makes as he screws his eyes shut and comes over Shane’s fingers. It’s messy and quick, but Shane lets out a sound like it’s everything he wants. His movements shift from thrusts to him just grinding against Ryan’s body and Ryan clenches around him.

“Ryan,” Shane whispers and it says so much, just from the gentle tone of his voice.

He shifts both hands back to Ryan’s hips and it only takes a few more grinds before he’s pulling out — so quickly Ryan’s head spins — and he’s coming over the small of Ryan’s back. It's warm and runs along the curve of Ryan’s spine, tickling his skin as it immediately begins to dry.

Ryan listens to Shane breathing shakily for a moment, before eventually Shane slumps into the space beside him. Ryan carefully lowers his hips, stretching his legs out and tangling them gently with Shane’s own. When he turns his head, Shane’s watching him, lips parted and chest rising and falling heavily as he catches his breath.

“Huh,” Shane says and Ryan laughs at how stunned he sounds.

“We should have been doing this sooner, right?”

“Like years ago,” Shane replies and Ryan laughs again, rolling closer to steal a kiss. Shane returns it with gentle enthusiasm, his hand coming up to Ryan’s face.

“Eugh,” Ryan complains into Shane’s mouth as lube and come accidentally smear along Ryan’s jaw.

Shane laughs and pulls away. “I already came across your back,” he points out and Ryan grunts.

“Fine, but I get to use the shower first.”

Shane shrugs like it’s a fair deal, but draws Ryan back in and Ryan goes willingly.

[blacktofade]

whynotboth.gif

*

“When you said you prepared for this, how well did you mean?” Ryan asks as Shane works on leaving an unignorable hickey on the side of his throat.

“I went full boy scout,” Shane replies, his hands sliding under the hem of Ryan’s shirt, his skin a shocking contrast against the cool night air around them.

Ryan thinks it says a lot about him that he doesn’t even try to protest as Shane tugs and pulls and pushes until his shirt comes off over his head. It says even more about him that he doesn’t complain when Shane tosses it into the dirt just beyond the edge of the blanket they’re sprawled out on.

“What happens if someone finds us out here?” he asks as Shane stares down at him, his own shirt missing and pants unfastened lewdly. He’s outlined by the brightness from the full moon above and something in Ryan’s chest tightens.

“How fast can you run?” Shane jokes, but then his hands are reaching for Ryan’s zip, groping him in the process of opening the front of his shorts.

“I said I wanted to see the stars.”

Shane pauses and then turns his head, looking up like he’s testing the view from Ryan’s perspective.

“They’re still up there,” he points out before returning his heavy gaze to Ryan. “Don’t let me distract you.”

“You’re such a — ” Ryan starts, but gets cut off when Shane’s hand slips into his underwear, squeezing him gently. They’ve been doing back-to-back filming across three different states in the past two weeks, which means they’ve had to remain professional. They have rules about what it is they’ve got going on, and Ryan hasn’t been touched in sixteen days. He’s been crossing them off his calendar — though he doesn’t count the times where he’d frantically jerked himself off in hotel bathrooms with Shane just outside the door.

Shane’s always so good to him; knows exactly what he wants and more importantly, what he needs. But it also doesn’t stop Ryan from laughing in a rushed exhale as Shane pauses and pulls out a single-use packet of lube.

“Full boy scout,” Shane repeats, tearing it open with his teeth and slicking his hand.

When he puts it back on Ryan, it’s cold, but not enough to stop Ryan from pushing into his grip and letting out a choked-off noise.

“Fuck, Shane,” he hisses, using his own hands to shove at his shorts and underwear to get them down his thighs and give Shane more room to work. He tips his head back and hates that Shane’s right — the stars are bright above them in the endless expanse of the night sky, and Ryan feels very small in comparison. “Shane.”

He could happily come like this, with Shane next to him, pulling him apart sense by sense. But when he reaches out to try to draw Shane down, he moves out of Ryan’s grasp and even lets go of his cock. The sound Ryan makes is unbearably needy, but he doesn’t care.

“Hold your horses,” Shane tells him and Ryan watches him shift backwards, pulling off his shoes and then his pants and boxers in quick succession. Ryan likes where things seem to be headed, though even more so when Shane returns to him, hands briefly on his hips, then his shoulders as he straddles his waist.

“Wha — ” Ryan says, brain spinning without seeming to gain enough traction to generate any thoughts.

“Do you know what the scout motto is?” Shane asks, reaching for Ryan’s cock and guiding it back to where he’s warm and slick — way too slick for it to be from the lube already on Ryan. He lets the tip of Ryan nudge inside as he leans down close to Ryan’s ear. “Be Prepared.”

“Oh my god,” Ryan gasps, and he means it in a why-are-you-like-this kind of way, but it infuriatingly comes out like it’s exactly what he wants and what he loves about Shane most. It’s a lie — a dirty, filthy lie — except that it’s not as he pulls Shane’s mouth to his own as Shane slowly sinks down, inch by excruciating inch.

Perched atop Ryan’s hips, Shane looks triumphant as he pulls back to stare down at him. Ryan can barely breathe. Shane’s so tight around him, so warm, and Ryan clutches at his thighs because that’s all he can remember how to do.

“What do you think?” Shane asks, unfortunately not as speechless as Ryan is. “Do you think I’ll earn a merit badge for this?”

Ryan tries to answer, he really does, but all that comes out is a breathy moan and he can see the sharpness of Shane’s grin in the moonlight.

"Sorry, what was that?"

Ryan digs his fingers into Shane's skin in retaliation, but Shane just grinds down onto him like it's nothing at all.

"You're the worst," Ryan complains as Shane starts a steady pace, rising and falling in Ryan's lap as he strokes himself. Ryan knows he should be more of a participant, but his brain is still playing catch-up.

"Am I?" Shane asks. "Because the way I see it, you're having a great time thanks to me."

The worst part is that it's the truth. Ryan thought they'd come out here, eat whatever was in the bag of snacks Shane brought, and do some heavy petting while looking at the stars. He thought the sex would come later, much later, when they were back at Shane's apartment. He didn't think he could have both.

"They're not mutually exclusive," Ryan hisses out, still trying to catch his breath.

Shane hums in reply, but he's never really affected by any of Ryan's jabs. He takes what Ryan gives him, whatever Ryan gives him, even if it's a deep dicking in the local forest, though Shane would probably argue that he's the one giving.

"Shane," Ryan says, voice so low and rough that he barely recognizes it as his own.

"I know," Shane says, but it's not insufferable like he's trying to tease Ryan. It's soft like he knows exactly what Ryan's feeling. "Fuck."

His hand is a blur on his cock, and his rhythm is desperate and not at all actually rhythmic. He's clearly having the same trouble as Ryan in that neither of them is going to last long. There's been too much distance between them lately and now it's time to start making up for the fact.

"Right there," Shane tells him, like Ryan is actually contributing and he's not just doing all the work himself. "Fuck."

Ryan feels that in his soul. He moves his hands to Shane's hips, just so he can feel the movement of his body and Shane grunts like it's exactly what he needs. He tips his head back and Ryan can't get over how long he looks stretched out like that.

He wants to say exactly that, but then Shane comes wetly along his stomach and chest and Ryan's ability to think disappears again. He gets somehow even tighter around Ryan, still moving like he's trying to find every ounce of pleasure and Ryan didn't realize he'd been that close, but he's missed the sight of Shane blissed out in that post-orgasm daze. He looks even better in the moonlight and Ryan's a little worried they might have to make a habit of full-moon wilderness trysts.

"Get down here," Ryan tells him, but he doesn't even have to reach up to pull Shane in, Shane just bends at the waist and finds Ryan's mouth without a word otherwise.

Shane keeps grinding against him and Ryan feels a heaviness in his chest from all the things he wants and can finally have.

"I love you," he pants against Shane's lips, and he doesn't mean for it to slip out. It's not something they've said before, but Shane's cock jerks where it's pinned between their stomachs, and Shane kisses him so perfectly that he forgets to even think about being embarrassed.

He clutches at Shane's back and lets the inevitable happen as he comes with a muffled noise that Shane swallows down so it can't escape. It feels cathartic and endless. He can’t even bear to pull away from Shane’s mouth now that he finally has it back for himself, though Shane doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He lets Ryan kiss him until he’s had his fill and his brain finally comes back online.

When Ryan finally pulls back, Shane stares down at him, looking ruined but shameless.

“Better?” he asks and Ryan blows out a breath that turns into an incredulous laugh.

“You’re unreal.”

Shane shrugs and says, “I dunno — I feel pretty real.”

He pulls off of Ryan and flops with a heavy grunt onto the blanket beside him. Ryan elbows him for being a sarcastic thorn in his side, but doesn’t try to shrug him away when he curls an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, propping Ryan’s head up with his bicep. It’s surprisingly comfortable even though he’s sweaty and gross and Shane is probably already regretting his boy scout decisions.

“Missed you,” Ryan says nonsensically since they’ve been on the road together and haven't been apart for more than an hour or so here and there. But it’s different when they can’t even share casual touches.

Shane leans over and kisses the corner of his mouth, silently saying he feels the same.

“This was a good idea,” Shane says after a moment of carding his fingers through Ryan’s hair.

“Which part? Yours or mine?”

“Yes,” Shane jokes and Ryan snorts.

“Well, I think I gotta agree. With both.”

Ryan tips his head closer to Shane’s shoulder and blinks up at the stars. Shane makes a happy noise and stretches out his legs.

“I love you, too, by the way,” he says, so casually that Ryan’s heart clenches, but he tries his best to play it cool.

Though Ryan’s never been good at that, so instead, he rolls directly on top of Shane, a smile on his face as he leans down to kiss him. Shane gets his arms around him and Ryan knows neither of them is going anywhere.

[blacktofade]

Anon, I know you asked for a happy ending, but I’m a horrible person, so I left it open-ended. I know where I stand on this, but y’all can decide for yourselves what the outcome is.

*

The cameras switch off as Ryan shuffles his papers together and Shane’s chair creaks when he leans back.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks as Ryan closes his folder of notes. His voice is soft compared to the noise of Mark and TJ talking on the other side of the desk, dismantling equipment and beginning to take it out into the hallway.

“Huh?” Ryan replies distractedly. “I said a lot of stuff in the last hour. Wanna try to narrow it down?”

“About me.”

Ryan laughs. “What? Nation’s greatest tragedy?”

Shane nods and Ryan sits up a little straighter when he doesn’t laugh like he expects.

“Uh,” he says, glancing over as the last of the crew filters out. Carefully, he pulls the soundpack from his pocket and switches it off. He doesn’t need anything caught on a hot mic. As though belatedly realizing, Shane does the same, slipping the wires out of his shirt with one long pull and setting everything on the desk. “It was just a joke.”

“It wasn’t a reference to — ” Shane’s question trails off and Ryan gets the sudden, uncomfortable sinking sensation of understanding.

“Oh god,” he quickly interjects. “No, no it wasn’t, I promise.”

He gets up and Shane reaches out like he’s going to stop him, but Ryan’s just moving to shut the door. There’s no lock on it, so instead he flicks the switch to turn on the recording light on the other side. It should be enough of a deterrent to keep anyone from interrupting.

He stands on the other side of their desk and doesn’t really know what to do with his arms as they awkwardly hang by his sides. He folds them after a moment, his biceps stretching at the arms of his thin shirt. Shane tracks them with his gaze for a second before he swallows and finally meets Ryan’s eyes again.

“I don’t need an answer to my question, Ryan, I just need to know that it’ll stay private.”

Ryan quickly unfolds his arms, offering his palms in placation. “I promise, Shane. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it — and I won’t either. What we talked about is just between us.”

His heart knocks against the inside of his ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Shane had caught him as he’d been leaving the office a week or so ago. He’d asked to chat and they’d found a modicum of privacy in Shane’s car, Shane nervously drumming his fingers against the wheel while Ryan picked lint off the knees of his pants.

Ryan had barely managed to remember how to walk afterwards, but he remembers the soft, sad expression on Shane’s face when he’d closed the door and started heading to his own car. He’d watched Shane pull out of the parking lot before folding himself into the driver’s seat and dropping his head into his hands.

Shane’s been on edge since then — probably not noticeable enough to anyone who doesn’t spend day after day with him, knowing each of his ticks and habits. But Ryan does and Shane’s been unquestionably wary.

“I wasn’t trying to call you out,” Ryan insists. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Shane cards his fingers through his hair, making it bounce as it falls back into place. He doesn’t look convinced and that hurts most of all.

Carefully, Ryan makes his way around the desk, like if he moves slowly enough he won’t spook Shane and send him running for the hills. When he lowers himself back into his seat, Shane glances over at him

“I did think about it. Not telling people — ” Ryan quickly corrects. “I thought about your question.”

Shane shifts uncomfortably and Ryan knows it’s the absolute worst place — outside of having it at their desks in front of their coworkers — to have this conversation, but they need to clear the air. The show, and probably their friendship, won’t survive if Shane’s walking on eggshells the entire time.

“You said a lot,” Ryan tells him quietly. “It was a lot to process.”

Shane’s chair creaks again as he shifts. There’s a flush low his on his cheeks that’s most likely embarrassment because he can’t seem to hold Ryan’s stare.

“I said I wanted to date you,” Shane says bluntly, which is the truth, but it still makes Ryan’s stomach flip nervously. He holds Ryan’s gaze. “I said I thought I loved you.”

Ryan blinks and looks away. The only other time he’s heard Shane so serious, dropping the usual barricade of jokes and lightheartedness to say what he actually means for once, was in the car when he'd confessed. But now, they’re not in the quiet dark of a parking lot, they’re blinded by overhead lights that make the back of Ryan’s neck prickle with warmth. He feels exposed, but it’s probably nothing compared with how Shane must feel.

“You asked if I felt the same,” Ryan says, since they’re apparently being candid.

“You couldn’t give me an answer,” Shane reminds him, like he even needs to. The heaviness in Ryan’s stomach does that for him already. “And now you think I’m the nation’s greatest tragedy.”

“I already told you that joke wasn’t about what happened,” Ryan presses, voice low to keep any passersby from overhearing. “It was just an off-handed joke, I promise.”

Shane presses the tips of his fingers to his forehead, his eyes briefly shutting. When he glances back up at Ryan, he looks tired, something bone-deep and all-encompassing and Ryan finds himself reaching out before he can stop himself. He touches Shane’s forearm, just below the bend of his elbow where the sleeve of his soft flannel shirt sits. Shane’s skin is warm and he doesn’t pull away, which Ryan thinks is encouraging.

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Ryan tells him honestly. “But I think I could if you give me a little more time.”

Shane blows out a breath and finally pulls his arm away.

“I can’t wait forever,” he says gently, which makes Ryan's chest ache in pain.

Ryan shuts his eyes and bows his head slightly, trying to center himself. “I know,” he says eventually and when he looks up again, Shane’s reaching towards him. He pauses when Ryan catches him, but slowly closes the distance to gently run two fingers along the line of Ryan’s jaw. It’s a tender touch and Ryan doesn’t think he deserves it.

As he leans into it, Shane draws away.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says and Shane stands up, shifting his chair out of the way, never getting too far into Ryan’s space as he edges around the desk. “Shane,” he implores and Shane barely spares him a glance as he heads for the door.

“It’s okay, Ryan,” he says, but his voice is tight. “It’s fine.”

It’s not okay. It’s not fine. Ryan rests his head in one hand and blows out a steady breath because he can’t bear to watch Shane leave.

[blacktofade]

Back-to-back anons asking for bottom!Shane? Firstly, I feel blessed. Secondly, I hope y’all are okay being lumped together ilu both.

*

“Say hi,” Ryan says, holding up his phone. It's set to record and Ryan has to adjust his grip because he accidentally got lube on it earlier and the edges are still a little slick.

“To who? Your mom?”

Shane's resting a forearm over his eyes, but he drags it away to meet Ryan's gaze. His face is flushed and his hair is a tangled mess.

“Hey,” Ryan complains. “You've met my mom.”

“And she’s a very lovely woman, but if she sees this, she will hire a hitman to take me out.”

“I'm the one recording,” Ryan points out. “Plus, she likes you.”

Shane hums thoughtfully and says, “Probably not enough to want to see my dick, though.”

“This isn't for — ” Ryan starts before realizing Shane's already laughing because he's successfully distracted him. “This is for us.”

“Thought you said this is for you for when I'm out of town next week.”

“Same thing.”

There's a pause as Ryan takes a moment to just watch Shane breathe, and through the phone's screen, the skin of his chest looks as soft as it feels beneath Ryan's other hand.

“Is this what turns you on?” Shane jokes and Ryan pans the phone down to take in the way Shane’s cock rests heavily on his stomach, hard and wet with lube. There’s a pillow tucked under Shane’s hips, keeping him at the perfect angle, and Ryan’s pressed inside him as deep as he can get. “You haven’t moved in five minutes and I’m feeling like a glorified cock warmer.”

The phone shakes as Ryan laughs and he pans back up to take in Shane’s soft expression — clearly not actually annoyed.

“You’ll have to update your business cards,” Ryan laments and the phone shakes again, but this time as Shane takes it from him.

“I don’t want to watch myself,” Ryan complains, holding his hand up to block the lens as Shane points it at him, but Shane just shifts it to the side instead.

“I need something to watch next week, too.”

“You already have a video of me,” Ryan points out because he remembers it fondly; Shane had accidentally chafed his dick during the long weekend Ryan had been away after they'd filmed it because he'd jerked off too much. Ryan maintains that he still hasn't ever laughed as hard as he had when Shane had quietly admitted it.

“Something new,” Shane amends, the phone shifting as he reaches down to touch himself.

Ryan doesn't actually have a good rebuttal, but not holding the phone means he can grip Shane's hips as he rocks slowly against him. Shane makes a soft noise of agreement like Ryan's actually said something and shifts one thigh further out, letting the camera see where Ryan's fucking into him.

There's something about being filmed that presses at the back of Ryan's mind. He knows there's a reason why he makes videos for the internet and thrives on feedback, whether it's positive or not. He loves what he does, but knows there's an element of  narcissism that keeps him coming back for more. And now, he gives a little extra wiggle because he knows what Shane likes and knows what he’ll enjoy watching again and again.

“Does that feel good?” Ryan murmurs, smoothing his hands along Shane’s thighs where he knows the camera can see. Shane grunts, like speaking is just too much effort, and his cock jerks visibly. “What do you want? If you’re gonna rewatch this next week, what do you want to see?”

Shane drops his head back to the pillow and the hand holding Ryan’s phone tilts sideways, no longer trying to record Ryan’s thrusts. Ryan grabs his wrist and pulls it back upright. The footage might end up being jerky and out of focus, but it gets the point across.

“Don’t stop recording,” he warns and Shane grunts again, this time sounding pained.

“Ryan,” he tries, but goes silent.

“That’s why I should be the one with the camera.”

He gently takes the phone again and flips it around to point down at where Shane’s sprawled, his hand moving on his dick like it's all he knows how to do.

“Look at you,” Ryan says, keeping his thrusts slow and steady. “You look real fucking good.”

Shane already has a flush on his face from exertion, but it deepens at Ryan’s words and Ryan knows how much he likes this.

“How does it feel?”

“You tell me,” Shane grits out, because it’s clear he’s enjoying it. There’s a smudge of precome across his lower belly and he’s twisting his fingers around the tip of his cock like he’s already close to letting go.

“Next time I want you on your hands and knees.”

Shane grunts, clenching around Ryan like he can’t help it, and Ryan finds himself losing another piece of his carefully maintained control.

“I wish I could keep you like this.”

Ryan leans down to press his lips to Shane’s collarbone, belatedly realizing that he’s accidentally filming nothing but the sheets, but Shane shifts to kiss the side of Ryan’s head, like he doesn’t mind at all.

“Fuck,” Shane grunts and Ryan can feel the way his hand speeds up because Shane’s knuckles brush his stomach with each slide.

He uses every ounce of willpower to sit back up, knowing he can’t miss the best bit. He holds his phone as steady as he can, gaze darting between the screen and what’s actually happening in front of him as Shane’s expression tightens, his brows furrowing.

“Ryan,” he pleads, but Ryan just keeps the same pace, knowing that’s exactly what Shane needs.

He only has to wait a moment and then Shane’s mouth is falling open and he’s coming over the back of his hand and the flat of his stomach. He looks so hot that Ryan can barely stand it. He can’t believe he gets this. He gets to see Shane fall apart because of what he’s doing, and he’ll get to rewatch it on his phone until he manages to end up like Shane with a chafed dick.

He pushes into Shane only a few more times before he pulls out and jerks himself off the last few strokes to come across Shane’s softening cock, making sure to get it in the shot because it’s one hell of a sight and he thinks Shane will enjoy it later. He feels wrung out and exhausted, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You really do look good like that,” Ryan says and Shane shifts beneath him.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one lubed up and sticky.”

Ryan laughs and sets a hand on Shane’s hip, rubbing gently and being careful to avoid the mess.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucked,” Shane grunts, pushing his clean fingers through his hair, making it stand on end even worse than before.

Ryan smiles and continues recording as he stares down at him.

“I love you,” he says and Shane makes a face.

“Gross,” he jokes, but reaches out to set a hand on Ryan’s knee. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“I’ll have this to keep me company,” Ryan points out, finally ending the video and tossing his phone to the side to find later once they’re covered in fewer bodily fluids.

Carefully, Shane pulls him down and kisses him softly.

“Love you, too,” he says and Ryan smiles against his mouth.