Chapter Text
The first day of September dawns bright and sunny. Ryan watches the sky bleed from black to blue to orange from his balcony, coffee within reach, laptop resting across his thighs. He’s been up since six o’clock, even though his alarm wasn’t set to go off for another three hours; his eyes simply sprang open of their own accord, and rather than trying to fight for extra sleep, he’d decided to embrace it and try to start planning out his semester.
He knows that he might not be able to see Shane at all today; he remembers from May just how much of a pain in the ass moving into a new place is, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Shane was too tired or too busy unpacking to hang out. But nevertheless, there’s a pit of excitement resting heavily in his stomach at the mere possibility that he might be able to see him soon, even if soon means tomorrow.
Behind him, the balcony door slides open and TJ comes out, dressed in his work clothes and carrying a huge mug of coffee. He collapses down into the creaky wicker chair that matches the one Ryan’s sitting in and yawns widely.
“You’re up early,” he comments.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Ryan turns back to his computer and brings up his school email account. There’s a few important messages dotted among junk, and he’s just started reading one about the new cafeteria hours when TJ talks again.
“You know, I think I deserve some recognition for hooking you and Shane up. I did drag you to that party, after all.”
“I went willingly to the party,” Ryan rebuts. “And you ditched me as soon as we got there!”
“Exactly! If I hadn’t ditched you, you wouldn’t have met Shane. So it’s totally because of me that you’re like this,” he says, waving a hand in Ryan’s general direction.
“Would you like a medal?” Ryan responds, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Because I’m all out.”
“Dick.” TJ kicks his foot lightly. He falls quiet for a few moments, just long enough for Ryan to finish reading the email about the cafeteria. “You really like him though, don’t you?”
Ryan doesn’t have to think before he answers.
“Yeah. I really do, man.” When he glances over, TJ is smiling at him, and he leans across the space between them and claps one hand on Ryan’s shoulder.
“I’m glad, dude. Just remember, if this becomes something serious, the sock on the door rule still applies. I don’t want to barge in on you if I need to borrow some toothpaste.”
“You could just knock. You know, like a normal person.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to protect your modesty. But whatever.” Grabbing his mug and raising his hands defensively, TJ gets to his feet. “I gotta get to work. See you later.”
Ryan waves goodbye and goes back to his laptop, but as the sun moves higher in the sky, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to stay focused. He hasn’t sent Shane a text today, hasn’t wanted to disturb or distract him, but the urge to do so is so strong that his fingers seem to itch with it.
He forces himself to leave his phone alone for the morning, tells himself that he’ll text Shane around noon if he doesn’t hear from him before then.
His phone rings at 11:30.
“Guess who’s officially back in town?”
“How many guesses do I get?” Ryan asks, sagging back against the couch, feeling like a giant weight has tumbled free from his shoulders. “I might need a few.”
“You can’t see it, but I’m flipping you off.”
“I’d expect nothing less from you. How’s the unpacking going?”
“Honestly, we haven’t really started. Most of our furniture is coming from Ikea tomorrow, and I don’t feel like doing anything more right now. Especially since Jen just left to go to her friend’s place, and I’m not unpacking without her damn help.”
“Fair enough,” Ryan laughs. There’s nothing that funny about it, but Shane just has a way of making him laugh at the most benign things. “So how should we celebrate your grand return? With a parade?”
“Fuck no. Parades suck.”
“They are actually the worst,” Ryan wheezes; Shane’s opinions on ghosts and cryptids may be bullshit, but at least they have this in common. “Alright, so no parades. Have any other ideas?”
“I was thinking of grabbing some beer and finally taking you up on your offer. Is it cool if I come over?”
The ball of excitement in Ryan’s stomach abruptly expands. Even though he’s been thinking about it all morning (all week, really), having the possibility of Shane being in his apartment become a reality is borderline overwhelming, and he immediately starts casting his gaze around the place, noticing just how messy it is.
“Yeah,” he answers, leaping to his feet and gathering up some of the trash littering the coffee table. “That would be... yeah. Come over anytime, man. I’ll text you the address. You don’t need to grab any beer either, we’ve got a bunch.”
“You’re too good to me,” Shane says. “See you in an hour?”
“Yeah, that works. See you then.” He hangs up, dumps the garbage into the trash bin under the kitchen sink, texts Shane the address, and immediately goes back to cleaning up.
He has to skimp in a few places in order to be ready in time; he washes up the dishes that are piled up in the sink, but the mugs on the counter have to stay dirty for the time being, and he only has enough time to quickly wipe the kitchen table down before he has to hop into the shower. By the time he gets out, runs his fingers through his hair and gets dressed, it’s already been fifty minutes since he hung up with Shane, and he grabs his phone and keys and heads downstairs to the parking lot to wait.
As he sits down on one of the concrete parking space bumpers, he realizes that his excitement, while still present, has started to morph into nervousness. He doesn’t have any new texts, but there’s a chance that Shane may have decided to back out. There’s a chance that, if and when Shane does come, things are going to be awkward between them, a chance that their... whatever this is, will officially die in its tracks before it can progress any further.
There’s a seemingly infinite amount of things that could go wrong, but thankfully, before Ryan’s anxiety runs away with him, he spies someone ambling across the parking lot towards him, someone so goddamn lanky and tall that it can only be Shane.
“You’re shorter than I remember,” Shane says as Ryan gets to his feet. There’s a tiny gift bag blazoned with the Medieval Times logo hanging from the fingers of his right hand, tissue paper spilling from the top.
“Wow, it’s nice to see you too, asshole,” Ryan laughs. Shane’s hair is still flopping onto his forehead, but it’s more polished around the edges, like someone who actually knew what they were doing managed to get their hands on it. He’s wearing a red flannel with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and while Ryan obviously knew how attractive he was, seeing it through a phone screen was one thing; now that they’re back up close and personal again, it’s a little overwhelming.
There’s still a hint of awkwardness; Ryan isn’t sure if he should lean in and hug Shane, if that’s a thing they’re doing, but before he can make a decision either way, Shane drapes his arm over Ryan’s shoulders and starts walking towards the apartment building.
“I was promised beer,” he says pointedly. His fingers are skimming over Ryan’s arm below the sleeve of his tee, and Ryan doesn’t know whether he wants to lean into that contact or into the warmth of Shane’s side where it’s pressed against his.
“And beer you shall have,” Ryan says, fishing his keys from his pocket. “Is that my present?”
“No, this is just a Medieval Times bag I decided to carry around for the hell of it,” Shane deadpans. “Yeah, it’s your gift. I carried it all the way from Illinois.”
“What a gentleman you are.” It takes him three tries to get his damn keys in the lock; his fingers are shaking slightly, and he forces himself to take a deep, steadying breath.
There’s no reason for him to freak out. He knows Shane is into him, has heard it from his own mouth, but his heartbeat feels too fast, and the places where Shane is touching him feel electrified. He almost thinks about making out with him as soon as they’re inside the front door, just to kill some of his damn anxiety, but he’s not exactly into giving any of his neighbors a peepshow, so he forces himself to keep walking towards the elevator. Shane’s arm remains around his shoulders right up until they get to Ryan’s apartment.
“And this is home,” Ryan says, carefully toeing out of his sneakers and nudging them off to the side so TJ doesn’t trip over them when he comes back.
“Your roommate not around?” Shane asks, following Ryan down the hallway, through the living room, and into the kitchen.
“He has to work today and tomorrow,” Ryan answers, cracking open the fridge and pulling out two beers. He passes one over to Shane, but he just sets it down on the kitchen table beside the gift bag. Ryan leaves his own on the counter and swallows hard. Shane is about a foot away from him and rubbing at the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish, and Ryan’s heart starts to beat in double time.
“You mind if I kiss you before we get into those?” he asks, waving at the beer and gift bag. “Because I’ve kind of been thinking about it for most of the summer.”
“Oh my God, me too,” Ryan laughs, and just like that, all the tension leaves the room, and oxygen floods back into his chest. “Like seriously, all the damn time. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Not as embarrassing as believing in ghosts,” Shane says seriously, but his damn eyes are twinkling, and after a second, his mouth cracks into a smile and he steps forward, close enough for Ryan to touch.
“Swear to fucking God,” Ryan says, wrapping his fingers into Shane’s flannel, “we’re going back to the eighteenth floor of the dorm, and I’m going to prove that ghosts exist.”
“You sure you want that to be our first official date?” Shane asks, raising an eyebrow and moving even closer, until Ryan’s back is pressed right against the counter. “Ghost hunting?”
“You have a better idea?” It’s hard for Ryan to think straight, let alone talk, when Shane’s mouth is so close that he can feel his breath, but the thought of going on an actual date with Shane, of truly making this something official, makes him so giddy that he thinks he could float.
“Dinner and a movie is usually a good place to start,” Shane says. His long-fingered hands land on Ryan’s waist and smooth up his chest, rumpling his shirt along the way, until they’re molded to the sides of his neck.
“Compromise: dinner, followed by ghost hunting,” Ryan breathes, wondering vaguely if Shane can feel how fast his damn heart is beating through his palms. Shane rolls his eyes and bumps his nose against Ryan’s.
“You’re lucky you’re you,” Shane mutters. Ryan wheezes softly.
“Is that seriously the best compliment you can come up with right now?”
“Yep. Deal with it.” With that, Shane leans in and closes the last few inches between them. His lips are chapped and warm against Ryan’s, and Ryan twists his fingers harder into Shane’s shirt, tries to pull him even closer. After a moment, he parts his lips, and Shane gasps quietly as Ryan’s tongue traces his bottom lip.
Admittedly, there had been a bit of fear in the back of Ryan’s mind that the reason he thought Shane was such a good kisser was because of how tipsy they’d been when they’d first made out, but it turns out that said fear is completely unfounded.
Drunk or not, Shane is just a really good kisser.
Eventually, Ryan’s chest starts to ache, and he pulls away to breathe. Slowly, he opens his eyes, smooths his hands down Shane’s chest to his waist and hooks his fingers into Shane’s belt loops.
“Still think I’m a ‘fucking good kisser?’” he asks with a grin. Shane groans and drops his hands to Ryan’s hips.
“You’re really gonna use that against me? Right now?”
“I could be persuaded to be quiet.” This time, he definitely means for the words to sound suggestive and, thankfully, Shane picks up on what he’s putting down. Smirking slightly, he squeezes Ryan’s hips and pushes slightly, and Ryan takes the hint and hops up onto the counter, carefully not to knock over his beer. Once Ryan is situated, Shane dives back in full force, kisses Ryan hard enough to knock his head back against the cabinets. Ryan gives back as good as he gets; he hooks his heels around Shane’s thighs and digs in, presses his teeth into Shane’s already swollen bottom lip and is rewarded by a soft groan.
“Goddamn it Ryan,” Shane murmurs as he ducks his head to the curve of Ryan’s neck and starts leaving a trail of messy kisses down to his shoulder. “Can’t believe I had to wait all summer for this.”
“Patience is a virtue,” Ryan answers, gasping and digging his fingers into Shane’s back when Shane starts sucking a hickey into the base of his neck.
“Patience is overrated.”
At the moment, Ryan is inclined to agree with him.
He doesn’t have any concrete plans of going beyond making out, but it’s seemingly impossible to pull himself away from Shane; every time he backs away to breathe, they just end up entangled together again. He’s so damn hard that it hurts, and when the back of Shane’s hand brushes against the front of his way too tight jeans, Ryan jolts forward and buries his gasp into Shane’s chest.
“Sorry,” Shane murmurs, hand dropping to Ryan’s thigh. “We can stop, if you want. Or just make out some more.”
Ryan isn’t exactly sure how he wants to answer that question, but before he can put much thought to it, the front door opens.
“Ry! You home?”
Shane’s eyes go comically wide and he immediately backpedals, crashing into the kitchen table hard enough to make his beer fall over, although he thankfully rescues it before it hits the floor and shatters. Ryan slides off the counter and runs his fingers through his hair so that he maybe looks semi-presentable but, based on how TJ’s eyes widen the second he steps into the kitchen, it’s all too obvious what they were doing.
“You must be Shane,” he says, gaze directed towards Shane’s neck, which is marked by a series of red, splotchy bruises. Shane’s face turns a rather fetching shade of pink. Turning to Ryan, TJ adds, “Didn’t we have a discussion about putting a sock on the door this very morning?”
“On the bedroom door!” Ryan exclaims, kind of hoping that the ground will open up and swallow him whole. “You weren’t supposed to be home for another five hours!”
“Touche,” TJ says, glancing down at his watch. “Boss was nice enough to let me out early today, and now, I’m going to let myself back out of the apartment. Have fun, you two. Be safe.” Brandishing finger guns, he backs out of the kitchen. The apartment door opens and closes a few seconds later, and Ryan sags back against the counter.
“I want to die,” he groans. “Please kill me.”
“No can do,” Shane answers. “I like you too much. Speaking of...” Reaching backwards, he grabs the gift bag and drops it onto the counter. “You should open your present.”
“I have waited long enough for it,” Ryan comments, hopping back up onto the counter. He reaches in and pushes the tissue paper aside until his fingers find something about the width of his palm. What he pulls out is a multi-tool, engraved with the Medieval Times logo. He carefully folds out the tiny knife set into the side and gently pricks the end of his finger with it. There’s a tiny hint of pain, and he’s pretty sure that if he pressed any harder, he’d draw blood.
“If you’re serious about this whole ghost hunting idea you have, you need to protect yourself,” Shane says solemnly. When Ryan glances up at him, he manages to keep a straight face for all of ten seconds before he bursts out laughing.
“Yeah, because I can just stab a fucking ghost. God, you are such a dick,” Ryan says as he turns the tool over in his palm. All things considered, it’s actually a pretty cool gift, definitely a useful one. “But this is actually pretty cool. You know you didn’t actually have to buy me anything.”
Shane shrugs. “I know. But I wanted to.” He steps back in between Ryan’s legs and drops his big hands to Ryan’s knees. “How do you feel about going on that first date tonight?”
“Ghost hunting and all?” Shane rolls his eyes and groans, but eventually, he nods, grimacing like it’s the most painful thing he’s ever had to do.
“I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this. Ghost hunting and all.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Setting the multi-tool aside for the moment, Ryan returns his hands to Shane’s shirt and tugs him in closer. “Can we make out more first?”
“Yeah,” Shane murmurs, ducking his head back down. “We can definitely do that.”
&.
They end up going to one of the campus bars for dinner. While Shane is ordering them both drinks, Ryan pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls to his contacts. After a moment of serious consideration, he erases the words bigfoot groupie and inserts shane, followed by a green alien emoji.
He has a feeling that it’s going to take awhile to get used to, but it’s a change that he’s happy to make.
&.
When he gets home later that night, he's carrying a twelve-pack of beer, which he drops into TJ's lap while he’s sitting on the couch.
It’s not a medal but, Ryan thinks as he absently rubs his neck and feels all the hickies Shane put there throb in sequence, it’ll have to do.