Work Text:
Shane Madej was a tired, tired man. He worked an office job editing videos for some media company that, although successful, he didn’t care much for it. His days were spent at (an admittedly pretty comfy) swivel chair watching his various coworkers do or discuss dumb things. He by no means hated them, but he took little interest in their pleasantries. Of course, he was occasionally called on camera for some bit, but it wasn’t his thing. The job wasn’t ideal, but people were by no means unpleasant, and the pay was more than enough.
He was thankful for the one thing that kept him energized. Infuriatingly energized. 101.3, KGHM fm, or Unsolved Conspiracies, and its infuriating host. Shane reminisced on the discovery of this channel: bitter on its own, but with some extra elements, not too bad. Like his coffee.
Sometime around Halloween, someone has pitched an idea for a ghost story miniseries. A quick google search later had lead to finding their channel. There was a solid two to four minutes of ads about dentistry and jewelry companies, but finally, the man, who he now knew as Ryan Bergara, spoke.
“Hey Boogaras! It’s me, ya’ main man Ryan at KGHM fm! It’s a Friday and you know what that means. Unsolved Conspiracies time. That means a new case, and today, we’re talking about the murders that haunt the Lizzie Borden house.”
Whatever the fuck a “boogara” was, it could keep Shane from working for a good half hour or more, so like the rest of the office, he listened in.
For a good hour or so, the man rattled off about the history of the house. Lizzie Borden, her family, and their wicked misfortune that wrecked their home. Ryan spoke of the supposed hauntings at the house and what people had to say about their spirits. Admittedly, the guy had a good story telling voice and Shane didn’t hate the show. He, like many of his fellow workers were a tad disappointed as they heard him close, and the station turned to static.
“...and many believe that this case will remain unsolved. Tune in next Wednesday for our Q and A show, Postmortem.”
The theories were good. Shane had no problem with the murder theories. It was murder. Murder was weird! But, as he began to look at his friends’ faces and listen to their discussions, he saw something a little upsetting. The upsetting part was the supernatural implications he weaved into this very real murder. Everyone was entitled to their beliefs, he supposed. That wasn’t exactly what irked him though. Rather, it was the unearned expressions of... what was it? Clarity? Realization? On his coworkers faces, as if that man on the radio made them understand.
He supposed that’s what made him want to call in the first place.
It was Wednesday, and sure enough, KGHM Unsolved Conspiracies was on the air. The infamous Ryan announced that he would be taking any calls and answering any questions from Twitter. His voice rang through the office, telling them their phone number. Exactly what Shane had been waiting for.
“Yes? Hi? Hello, my name is Shane and I called to say that all of this is bullshit.”
Shane smiled at the commotion as his voice came through the building's speakers.
There was a soft thud and shuffling of papers. Shane imagined that he was just lounging, feet up on his desk with some dumb conspiracy folder in hand, but then immediately sitting ramrod straight as he heard his insult.
He could practically see the sigh fall from this man as he responded, “Sir... Shane... I hope you have some strong arguments and evidence to back that. Hanging up and leaving you victorious just isn’t how it works here at the KGHM.”
His coworkers' "oo" in anticipation was loud enough to register through his phone's microphone and effectively be rebroadcasted to all the listeners. Over the line, Ryan laughed.
Shane, on the other hand, only scoffed, “You want some arguments and evidence, do you? Listen up uh... boo babies or whatever the hell you’re called, because I’m tearing this story to shreds.”
“Be my guest.”
“Yeah okay, we’re starting with spirit boxes? Absolute horse shit.”
“Now hold one just one second-!”
~
It had lasted almost half an hour before things got intense and Ryan insisted he, “...get off my show or so help me please, or I’m tracking you down and throwing hands. Steven, can you block this number before I-"
Beep!
"You absolute bastard. On my own radio show! Can you believe this?"
Shane happily hung up before he could do that.
That argument had brought back a fire in him. Not only that, it got more laughs from his coworkers than he would’ve ever dreamed in his comedy improv class. Tormenting this tinfoil hat radio host was just so frustrating. Ah, but despite the hostility, that man had brought out more unfiltered emotion than most of his fellow coworkers did. He loathed Ryan, but just loved annoying him. The sad thing was, that glee in hearing him shout on air outweighed the loathing. And, his office would be playing this for the entire month of October. Fantastic.
The week following their initial call, Shane found himself dialing their phone number once again. Pissing off this radio man was a horrible delight, and he was in no way backing down.
“Hello this is Ryan Bergara from 101.3 KGHM, who is this?”
“Hey! It’s your old pal Shane from last week! Feels great to be back on the air, and by the way, ghosts aren’t real.”
Shane faintly registered someone in the office say, “You’re calling again? Jesus christ.”
That was ignored in favor of acknowledging Ryan say, “Oh you’re here to shit on my show again huh? Huh? Gimme’ your best shot, I’m not letting you episode this one punk.”
This was a pattern that unfortunately, the office would soon have to get used to. No one was going to say anything to Shane. No one was going to butt in and point out that every week, he said mostly the same disclaimers about ghosts and the supernatural, except in different orders. No one was going to go and force him to admit that he was weirdly attached to bugging this man, and would come in even when sick just to annoy him. No, they kept their mouths shut and accepted that they would be listening to KGHM every Friday and Wednesday well beyond the spooky season.
Mid July, Shane was still an avid listener, if one could call him that. He had seen the tweets. Some people were calling him a co host. Sara, one of his handful of office friends, had even joked that they should make a show for the company.
“Buzzfeed Unsolved, dude! It’d be hilarious. I know I’d watch it.”
Shane only scoffed. The world wouldn’t be so cruel as to put him and Ryan Bergara within a ten mile radius of each other. How absurd. He chuckled to himself as he finished the editing for tonight’s video. God, he needed a lunch break. It was Tuesday. Any Unsolved related thoughts weren’t welcome until tomorrow. Try as he might, her suggestion still bounced through his head.
He didn’t even know what he looked like, he reminded himself as he pulled into the parking lot of Chick-fil-A. Ryan was probably some weird middle aged man who stopped exercising in his mid twenties. His hair was probably shit. That made Shane smile as he ordered.
Taking a seat an an empty table, he waited for his meal. Absentmindedly, he began to eavesdrop on the few other patrons in a booth on the far wall as he scrolled through his phone.
The first voice was uncomfortably familiar, “Do you think he’ll be there tomorrow?”
“Eh… Yeah. Yeah. He’s been listening since like… What, October? That’s… Um… Hold on, I need to check my phone.”
“Ugh, god. I hate that guy. I mean he’s good for ratings but-” Why did it sound so familiar? And why did he want to start a fight with him?
“Ten months. He’s been listening for ten months.”
“What a prick! This guy has been shitting on Unsolved for almost a year!”
Oh. That. That was why.
Trying to remain subtle, Shane turned his head ever so slightly to try and catch a glimpse of the guy he’s been publily arguing with for apparently almost a year. Expecting to see some old t-shirt, cargo shorts, and questionable combination of socks and sandals, Shane was… Rather unsettled by the undeniably attractive man only twenty feet away. Neatly combed hair, dark brown eyes currently reflecting a half-hearted hostility (that Shane chose to ignore his own involvement in), and absolutely ripped arms, all wrapped up with a tastefully tight shirt.
Shane couldn’t decide whether he hated it or loved it. Whatever his opinion of the Ryan Bergara in the flesh, he was going to confront him.
For a moment, he pocketed his phone. Then, he came up with a better idea. Ratings, he’d said? Well, if there’s anything the listeners would love more than them arguing over the phone, it’d be them arguing in person for the first time. So, he opened the voice recorder app on his phone and went to business.
Striding to the table, he plopped himself in the seat next to who he assumed was the lesser known Steven, and put his phone on the table face up. Ignoring the confused sputtering and his completed order, he folded his hands on the table.
He looked to the guy next to him in the eyes with a curious gaze as he said his name in greeting, “Steven.”
“Um… Do I… Do I know you?”
Ignoring the question, he turned to Ryan, the main event, “Ryan Bergara.”
They made eye contact. Shane could practically see the gears turning in his head as the two exchanged a number of expressions.
There was fear. Scrunched eyebrows, partially widened eyes and a downturned mouth. A sort of, ‘How do you know who I am?’ look.
There was amusement. A slight tilt of the head, to the left and slightly backwards. A shit eating grin delivered without showing his teeth. ‘Come on, you knooooow.’
Questioning: Mouth now spread into a grimace, as his chin dropped down to his chest. He now looked up Shane through his eyelashes. The look said, ‘Do I really, though?’
Insistence: His head was no longer tilted back and left, but now down and slightly right as he nodded. He squinted at Ryan, eyebrows furrowed. The corner of his mouth was lifted, but not in a smile. ‘Yes, absolutely, you do.’
Realization: Ryan’s eyes widened, and somehow, his chin sunk further down into his chest. ‘Wait, are you the guy-’
And finally, joy: Shane’s toothless shit eating grin was back as he nodded. ‘Hell yeah I’m that guy.’
At last, Ryan broke the silence (which was very confusing to Steven) as he tried to greet the same way he had been greeted. “Shane?” he said, with much less confidence that Shane had acknowledged them.
To this, Shane finally gave himself a moment of celebration. He fist pumped the air in glee as he watched Ryan groan in annoyance, “Goddamnit you’re a real person, I didn’t think I’d ever have to fucking experience this.”
“You better believe it, baby."