Archive of Our Own ^beta

Screech

Shane physically recoiled at the sound, leaning back on his heels and squinting his eyes together at the invasive and impressively loud noise. "Goddamn, Ryan," he practically growled, readjusting the phone in his hand so the camera was pointing at the man's face, which wore a seemingly startled expression as he stared up to meet Shane's gaze. 

"I forgot how loud this thing was," he murmured, looking back down to fiddle with the knobs on the cursed machine. 

"I never though it would be possible for me to hate the spirit box more," Shane quipped, and he was honestly wishing that he'd stopped at the nearest CVS to grab earplugs and Tylenol before they'd arrived at the haunted location. 

"Oh, right, this is one of the new things we got for this season," the man suddenly said, looking up and waving it before the camera. And, Shane knew - because he'd known Ryan for long enough by now - that it was a pointed way of outright ignoring his complaints. 

"But Ryan," he began, his voice loud and leaking false interest just to tease, "we already had a spirit box!"

"We did," he replied, his eyes narrowed in exasperation as he looked at Shane, but his voice just as cheerful, "but this one is better! A new, improved model, if you will. It's got louder volume-"

"Oh, I can tell," Shane interrupted, glancing at the machine with scorn as it screeched and buzzed through the otherwise quiet building. 

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan huffed. "As I was saying, it has more volume, but it also has noise cancellation, so you're more likely to hear words and phrases clearly." 

"Well I'm just thrilled. Hey, do you think these ghosts will talk about spaghetti too?" he asked, smiling wide. Shane loved nothing more than to joke around about this stuff with Ryan, who took it so seriously. To the man's credit, despite being such an avid believer, he could take some things for what they were and was able to laugh just as much as Shane when something ridiculous happened. Which, to be frank, tended to occur in all of the episodes numerous times. 

"If they're hungry, maybe," Ryan replied with a chuckle, and turned his attention back to the spirit box. Shane simply waited, watching, as he played with his new ghost hunting toy, and ruminated on why anyone would even think to invent the horrid, screeching box. The audio wouldn't produce anything good until they actually started speaking to the box - and they'd be lucky even then -  so he didn't bother attempting to make small chatter or jokes until Ryan set the box down on a nearby chair and stood up straight, obviously finished messing with it.

"Ready now?" Shane asked, receiving a nod in reply. 

"Okay, ghosts. I'm Ryan, this is Shane," he said, gesturing to himself and then Shane as he mentioned each of their names, "and we're gonna try to ask you a few questions. You can use the spirit box here to speak to us."

"Sorry if it's a little bit loud," Shane said, "we don't mean to give you a headache." He was pretty sure he saw Ryan roll his eyes, but the man didn't comment otherwise. 

"Can you say our names?" 

No response, as expected, but they both remained silent and waited as the box flipped through channels, screeching as it did so. Shane couldn't say that anything sounded much clearer than the previous machine. It was still all static. Shane repeated the question this time, and they waited again. He'd said it before, and he'd say it again; the viewers were lucky. They had no idea how much time they actually spent standing around the damned thing waiting for some semblance of a reply. 

"What's your name?" Nothing more than a few breaks in the static that Ryan claimed would need to be examined more closely in post. 

"Can you tell us how you died?"

Ice . . . . One clear word emerged from the fog of static noise, and Shane glanced at Ryan to find the man looking right back. 

"Ice?" he asked, and Shane nodded in agreement. That's what it sounded like, although it certainly wasn't an answer to the question the spirits had been asked. As far as he knew, nobody had been iced to death here. 

Ba..y...

There was a stretch of silence between them. "Baby?" Ryan finally asked, looking down at the box. 

"Ice baby," Shane repeated, before breaking out into a vicious grin. "Holy shit, Ryan, the ghosts are singing some Vanilla Ice. How do they know Ice Ice Baby?" 

Ryan's eyes widened before he broke out into loud peals of laughter, practically doubling over with the suddenness of it. "Fuck," he said, taking a gasping breath between laughs. 

"Let's kick it, Ryan," Shane teased, impossibly pleased. This was even better than when they'd heard appletater in the Bellaire house. He watched, a smile still wide on his face as Ryan attempted - and failed - to compose himself in order to continue the spirit box session. He couldn't claim to have helped much though, since he began humming along to the song in an attempt to keep pulling laughter out of the other man. 

"Okay, okay, shut the fuck up so we can continue this," He finally exclaimed, swatting at Shane's bicep with the back of his hand. Ryan was still grinning though, so he counted it as a personal victory, even though he complied, and they resumed their normal interrogation of the resident spirits. 

They'd be spending the night on location this time around, and Shane was just thankful they were in a place with a bed. Whenever he had to sleep on a hard floor with only a sleeping bag for support, his shoulders and lower back ached the next morning. Ryan could make fun of him for it all he wanted, Shane knew he didn't like it either. 

He settled back against the headboard, his phone in his hand and shining brightly in the darkened room, even on its lowest brightness setting. Ryan stood across the room, checking the settings on the camera to make sure that it was focused properly with the night vision on. A comfortable silence had fallen between then, but as Shane scrolled through twitter, he heard Ryan muttering something underneath his breath.

He almost interrupted to ask what the hell the mumbling was about, but snapped his own jaw shut and simply listened when he noticed that the murmuring had rhythm to it, like a song. It took multiple seconds to figure out why, but when Shane did realize what he was listening to, he couldn't help but to grin. 

"Are you singing what I think you're singing?" he asked, noticing the way Ryan jumped at his voice. At night, in the quiet of a dark room, it took almost nothing to startle the man while on location. 

Ryan fell to silence, and his expression of surprise fell to one of defense to accompany it. "It's stuck in my head and won't go away, okay?" he finally grumbled, stepping back from the camera, apparently satisfied that it'd last through the night there, focused on the bed where they'd be sleeping. 

He approached the bed, and Shane turned his head to follow the movement as the flashlight propped upwards on the nightstand illuminated Ryan's face as he came closer until he was practically glowing in the artificial light. 

"You gonna keep singing?"

"No," was the immediate reply as Ryan crawled underneath the heavy duvet. "The ghosts like it too much."

Shane barked a laugh, shaking his head. "But what if we get evidence, Ryan?"

"You sing it, then," the man said, raising an eyebrow at Shane.

He supposed he could, but he wasn't concerned with attracting any imaginary ghosts, and he'd much rather hear Ryan's voice than his own. 

They'd gone to a local bar - he, Ryan, and the rest of Unsolved's on set crew - to celebrate the successful filming of the last episode of the season. 

Shane didn't frequent this part of the city much, and the busy entrance was a little bit off-putting. He leaned towards Ryan to ask if this was normal, but the man claimed to have never been before, either. Who'd even suggested it, then? He meant to ask, but suddenly they were making their way through the front doors and the loud, deafening music silenced any thoughts he'd previously had.

It was more of a club than a bar. He blinked at their surroundings, caught off guard by the flashiness of it all. Bright pink and green stage lights shone across the walls and the large mass of people converging on the main floor. Something that sounded a lot like C+C boomed from the speakers, though it was so overwhelmingly loud, he couldn't be positive. 

He looked to Ryan, who'd remained still next to his side since they'd walked in. As if he'd sensed that he was being looked at, the man gazed upwards to meet Shane's eyes. He looked about as surprised as Shane felt.

"90's night?" he finally asked, leaning closer to speak. 

"I thought we were just going to a bar?" Shane asked in reply. 

"I did too." 

Of course, it was just their luck they'd end up going to some club on a special event night that, by the looks of things, seemed to be quite popular. Don't get Shane wrong; he certainly wouldn't have minded going to a club, but he would have liked to know beforehand. He felt out of place, now.

Ryan, who still hadn't left his side yet, made him feel better, though. Their other coworkers had abandoned them to go get drinks, leaving them alone in the crowd. 

"Should we go join them?" the man asked, and Shane looked over to see the neon lights flash rapidly over his face. If he was momentarily struck silent by the sight, well, Ryan didn't call him out on it.

"I'm not going to stand by the door all night," he finally replied, flashing a grin before leading the way through the people - thankfully nowhere near as crowded as the dance floor - to the bar. Their coworkers were seated at a small booth against the back wall, and Shane nodded to them as he and Ryan walked up to the bar to order something to drink. 

So they drank.

And maybe drank a little bit too much. It wasn't even the weekend yet.

Somewhere in the middle of it all Shane managed to lose track of Ryan, though he was certain the man had been at the booth when he left to get a beer.

"Shane!" a voice suddenly called behind him, loud despite the booming music, and he turned towards the main floor to see Ryan, who was waving him over eagerly. Laughing, he complied. "Listen," he shouted over the music, pointing up at the ceiling. He was lucky Shane knew what he meant.

Over the speakers, he heard a familiar song, and couldn't help but to laugh. He was a little drunk, and definitely having a good time, so there was nothing stopping him from laughing loud and free at the fact that they were - once again - being haunted by Ice Ice Baby. "Well, it is 90's night," he said, grinning widely at Ryan. "No ghosts this time, though."

"Thank God," Ryan laughed, and suddenly, without prompting, he was singing along to the horribly 90's rap, moving his hips lightly with the beat. At least, it was as with the beat as he cared to make the movement. Really, he was very off. 

Shane's mouth went dry. He could have blamed it on the alcohol, but he'd wake up sober in the morning knowing that he was only fooling himself. Ryan was not, by any means, a bad singer. In fact, he was good. If he'd cared enough to actually try, Shane was pretty sure that he wouldn't be a half bad dancer, either. 

He hadn't heard his friend really and truly sing in so long he'd nearly forgotten how talented the man was, and found himself awestruck when the truth hit him hard enough it could have been mistaken for a semi. 

Shane really was well and truly fucked. 

Ryan was definitely drunk, loose and happy as he danced on the floor, and Shane felt like his brain might be melting - just a little bit - at the sight of him. 

"Come on, man," Ryan laughed, grabbing Shane's arm to pull him further into the crowd. He barely had the mind to avoid spilling his beer everywhere, but allowed himself to be recklessly pulled along.

If Shane didn't remember much after that beyond a few shaky Instagram stories, then that was his own regret to live with. 

All he needed to know now was that he'd woken up the next morning with Ryan sleeping on his couch and Ice Ice Baby stuck in his head. 

They'd been on the road for so long that the previously blue sky had turned to deep purple, just moments away from becoming completely dark for the night. Shane was in the passenger's seat, leaning on the window and watching the buildings pass by. Ryan was the driver, leaning forward slightly to study the GPS, since apparently somewhere they took a wrong turn, effectively turning them around 90 degrees.

"Good thing this hotel takes late check-ins, huh?" he asked with a chuckle, glancing over to catch the displeased side-eye Ryan was throwing his way. 

"We're only a few minutes away," the man answered, rather than taking the bait. Shane supposed he understood. They were on unfamiliar roads, and Ryan had been driving for way too long at this point. Shane had offered to take his turn, but then they'd gotten onto a long interstate and just hadn't stopped since. 

A few moments of silence stretched between them, but Shane was the first to break it when he saw a familiar name upon a building to their right. "Is that it?" he asked, pointing it out for Ryan.

"Yes," the man breathed, relief in his voice as he merged into the next lane so they could take the proper exit this time. "Thank you."

Shane hummed, and resumed his place looking out the side window until they arrived.

The building was nice, and the lobby was even nicer. Though, in Shane's experience, that didn't always equate to the quality of the rooms themselves. But, they were here for Unsolved, and considering some of the places he'd slept for that, he had no reason to complain about an actual, clean bed. 

The crew - who had driven over in a different car and arrived a couple of hours earlier - were on the same floor, but on the right side of the hallways, whereas Shane and Ryan turned left once they stepped off the elevator.

They would be sharing a room for the night, and Ryan pushed open the door, holding it open for Shane so that he could lug his suitcase inside. Luckily, the niceness of the room seemed to match the rest of the place. 

"Looks good," Ryan said, dropping onto the first bed, leaving the one closest to the window for Shane. 

Despite having been sitting still in a car for the past few hours, Shane really just wanted to relax, so he crawled onto the still-made bed and stretched his legs out. The TV remote was on the nightstand between the two beds, so he grabbed for it and began flipping through the channels. 

Ryan, apparently, felt like accomplishing more than mindless channel surfing, because he opened his suitcase and grabbed a few things before disappearing into the bathroom, saying something about a shower as he went. 

Despite having a good channel selection, Shane didn't manage to find anything by the time he heard the water shut off. He did, however, stumble across a music radio that allowed the user to choose by mood or genre. 

He looked through them quickly, but backtracked when he passed by one that read '90's'. Well, Shane was feeling mischievous enough tonight, and there was nothing better to put on the TV, so he selected the 90's radio. 

He supposed that, by this point, he really should be expecting it. Maybe he really was haunted, although this would be the strangest haunting he'd ever heard of. 

Collaborate and listen,

Ice is back with my brand new invention.

The bathroom door, which previously had been shut, opened suddenly, revealing Ryan dressed in only boxers and an old t-shirt, his hair still wet from the shower. Shane bit his lip, attempting to keep from laughing out loud at the suddenness of the man's reaction.

"What the hell, Shane?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Shane shrugged. "This is what was playing," he said, which was absolutely the truth, even though Ryan looked like he didn't believe it. 

Still, a grin formed on the man's face and he walked over without even bothering to go back and finish drying his hair. He knelt down on Shane's bed and crawled over top of the taller man. "I think you just like this song," he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Shane, from his position underneath Ryan, had to tilt his chin back to meet his gaze. "Nah, it's the ghost's favorite, remember?" he said, smiling at the laugh the words earned him. It brightened up the man's whole face, which had been darkened by a need for sleep not even an hour earlier. 

"So you're haunted?"

"Maybe you're haunted," he countered, shifting gently so that he was siting up further, leaning his back against the headboard. 

"You might as well be haunted too, then," Ryan chuckled, resting his arms on Shane's shoulders and burying his fingers in the base of his hairline. Shane hummed lightly in appreciation at the soothing feeling.

"Damn, I think you're right."

"There are worst things to be haunted by."

Shane frowned just slightly. "Are you sure? I mean it's not exactly the best song the 90's had to offer and-" He never got to finish the sentence though, since Ryan effectively shut him up by pressing their lips together. 

Yeah, this definitely wasn't the worst thing to be haunted by.