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“Ow Shane.” Ryan winces as he hobbles up the steps to the office. Shane removes his hands as if he’s been electrocuted and hovers behind Ryan with them outstretched instead, ready to catch him should he fall. Shane’s bedside manner is clumsy but welcome, even if Ryan has a sneaking suspicion a lot of it is driven by guilt. Ever since Shane had nudged him into investigating a rickety staircase which had predictably given way, earning Ryan a nasty concussion and a broken leg, Shane has been at Ryan’s beck and call.
“I don’t even know why you’re here.” Shane hisses as he jogs ahead and pulls open the door for him. Ryan rolls his eyes, one more day at home with Shane hovering over him and he was sure to make good on his multiple threats to kill him.
“Because I’ve gotta get back to work some time. It’s not like answering emails or doing a bit of research is too strenuous. Why are you here, acting like I’ve got some life threatening illness and not just a broken leg?”
“Because I don't trust you not to somehow slip and fall, or throw yourself out of your office chair and hurt yourself even more just to spite me.” Shane mutters, hand hovering at the small of Ryan's back as he hobbles past him.
“I didn't hurt myself in the first place. You and your goading, I always rise to it” Ryan says shaking his head with a smile.
“Sorry...” Shane mumbles as they make their way slowly to their desks.
It's the 76th time Shane has apologised since Ryan fell through the stairs at their most recent Unsolved location that weekend.
“C'mon Ryan, only one way to find out if it's a demon stomping around up there. Give it the business like you did at Moon River.” Shane teases, hovering over Ryan's shoulder. It's just a bit, Shane's usual antics but Ryan always takes it as a challenge. He looks at the first stair, it seems sturdy enough but the further up he looks the more unstable the steps begin to look. About half way up the flight the steps appear slimy, rotting wood trying to seal itself against the pervasive damp permeating the building. Shane coughs, the humid, mould riddled air playing havoc with his lungs. They should've bought masks, he's not sure their risk assessment covers potential spores.
Ryan shivers, and Shane seems to soften slightly, his big, warm hand stroking from shoulder to elbow. It lingers for 2 maybe 3 seconds before it's snatched away again, like it's overstayed its welcome.
“C'mon bud,” he says, quiet and careful, “I'll follow you up. The sooner we get a shot of upstairs the sooner we can be out of here.”
Ryan takes in a rattling breath, the knowledge that Shane will be behind him every step of the way an immeasurable comfort.
He makes his way tentatively up the stairs, the creaking and groaning of the wood beneath his feet setting his nerves even more on edge than the idea of what could await them at the top. He's only 3 steps away from the landing when it happens. The stair is slimy with rot and his foot slips. He flails wildly but doesn't manage to catch himself on the banister. His foot slips landing heavily on the step below. There's a sickening crack and his leg plummets through the stair, throwing him backwards. The previous three steps collapse and he dangles from the cavity as his head hits one of the only intact stairs below. His vision blurs, the sound of his head hitting the hard, wooden stair ricocheting around his skull like a gunshot. There is a searing pain in his leg but he thanks God for its currently awkward angle lodged in the stair or he would have either fallen straight through, or all the way back down, the stairs.
He distantly hears a shout and realises dazedly that it sounds a lot like Shane.
“Shane,” TJ hisses, “it's alright man, just come back down, Devon's calling 911.”
“No” Shane's voice is high pitched and cracking, he sounds scared “no if I move we compromise its integrity completely the whole thing might collapse.” It's a logical answer and Ryan wonders at his ability to somehow think soundly even when he's clearly rattled. Ryan suspects Shane has some kind of crisis override, that his lack of concern for his own safety enables him to think clearly enough to preserve that of others.
Ryan twists his head, it pounds and black spots jump and flash across his vision but he can see Shane's face, eyes wide and jaw clenched like he's desperately holding onto reason. He watches as Shane carefully crouches a few steps below him. The staircase groans menacingly and Ryan hears himself whimper. He flinches, feels his head spin as he jerks it upward.
“Hey shh shh, try not to move.” Shane placates him. Warm shaking hands hold his head still tenderly, fingertips stroking at his jaw. “We're gonna get you out of here okay? Help is on its way. Fuck I'm so sorry baby Jesus what was I thinking?”
The last part Shane mutters to himself, but Ryan hears it loud and clear through the throbbing pain in his leg. He looks up and Shane looks distraught, his hands haven't stopped shaking and they're so unbelievably careful where they cradle his face, like he's holding something fragile. Ryan tries to smile.
“S'okay big guy” he croaks out and Shane shakes his head ruefully.
“Bound to happen at some point right? Ghoul hunting is a dangerous game. I thought it would be me first though, at the hand of all these fucking low ceilings.” Ryan snorts out a laugh, wincing as it runs through him causing him to jolt his injured leg. “Careful, Christ no jokes then huh? Can't even chuckle without using your whole body can you?” Shane says fondly and Ryan's swimming brain locates a compliment in his words somewhere.
“Shuddup Shane.” He slurs feeling sleepy but he knows it would be a bad idea to sleep now so he blinks up at Shane's giant, upside down head and traces his worried features with his gaze. Shane continues to mutter nonsense at him, apologies and promises to never goad him into something so dangerous again, declarations that he'll make it up to him, assurances that he'll be fine. He also keeps up a steady stream of praise that has Ryan's cheeks flushing, telling him how brave he is, how impressed he is by Ryan even rising to the bait to face his fear in the first place, how well he's doing staying still and staying awake.
When the paramedics arrive Shane removes his hands reluctantly and Ryan misses their warmth, their tender but strong touch that never fails to ground him. Shane shakily explains the situation and they hesitantly check if they can move him. The paramedics can't reach him and any more weight on the staircase could cause greater collapse.
“You're gonna have to move him buddy.” One of the paramedics says and Shane looks unsure. “Hey Ryan?” He calls and Ryan nods in response “we need you to try and dislodge your leg and then Shane here is gonna carry you down okay?”
“It's gonna hurt.” Ryan whimpers
“It's gonna hurt baby but we've got you okay and then we can get you out of here and get you some meds and get you all fixed up.”
Ryan doesn't really remember a lot after the ambulance had arrived. Apparently he'd passed out pretty quickly after he'd pulled his leg free. Shane didn't really provide any of the details but TJ had told him about how Shane had carried him carefully back down the stairs and placed him like some kind of sleeping beauty on the stretcher. The thought of Shane cradling him close, holding him delicately, makes his whole body flush with heat as he shifts in his desk chair, settling in to work.
Shane sits next to him and to anyone else he would be the picture of nonchalance. He holds himself a little too rigid, gaze drifting to watch him out of the corner of his eye. He hasn't relaxed since the accident and Ryan's starting to find it a little distracting and a lot ridiculous. Shane gets to work like he always does, headphones jammed over his ears as he sits hunched over his desk despite the number of articles Ryan has sent him about proper seating etiquette and how sitting improperly will ruin your back before you hit 40. It’s like every other day apart from the way Ryan can feel Shane’s gaze repeatedly flick back to him, covertly scanning him for signs of discomfort, and the way his hands just won’t stop moving.
Shane’s prone to fiddling with pens now and again, when he’s listening or concentrating intently on something but it seems he can barely go a minute without fidgeting with something. If he’s not clicking or typing, his long fingers are tapping on his desk, twirling a pen between his fingertips or picking up and then putting down his coffee mug, moving it from his left to his right and back again. It’s anxious movement, and Ryan only notices it because ever since Shane had touched him so tenderly he’s been unable to cast the thought of his hands from his mind.
And it’s totally fine to be thinking about your best friend’s hands right? How strong and capable they are, so sure and deft. Shane’s hands are bigger than Ryan’s and they’re warm and soft. Ryan now knows that Shane’s touch can be so gentle, something he somehow hadn’t expected, probably because before the accident he’d only been privy to fleeting touches, firm shoulder pats and the odd shove. Ryan now knows what those long elegant fingers feel like cradling his jaw, petting through his hair. Despite the embarrassment he feels at having been carried bridal style down a flight of stairs, disappointment surges through him that he hadn’t been conscious for it and has no recollection of what it felt like to have Shane’s warm, broad hands on his body, gripping his legs and back to move him carefully.
He watches as if outside of himself as Shane’s fingers crawl across the white expanse of their shared desk to tap at Ryan’s wrist, laying impotently on his keyboard. He glances up and there is a look of such aching concern, such worry on Shane’s face that irrational irritation flares in his gut. At the light touch of his fingertip grazing his knuckle Ryan flinches, snatching his hand away like it’s been burned. Shane opens his mouth, no doubt to ask if Ryan is okay but Ryan cuts across him.
“For the last time I am fine Shane!” He says, a little too loudly, causing the heads of their colleagues situated closest to them to pop up from behind their monitors to look at them with concern. Ryan feels himself flush, embarrassment only feeding his annoyance.
“Okay.” Shane mumbles, standing abruptly. Ryan watches him with wide eyes. Shane’s hands shake where he reaches to pick up his mug. He crushes it tightly to his chest and flees without another word.
A series of awkward coughs and the uncomfortable shuffling of feet signal that his colleagues have gone back to pretending they aren’t paying any attention. Ryan sighs. He’s fucked something up. Even though Shane is truly smothering, he knows it’s his own confused feelings and the discomfort in his leg that caused him to snap.
It’s just that this is weird. He’s not used to Shane’s attention, devoted and concerned and almost doting. It’s a glimpse at something he doesn’t truly have, something he’s only privy to because Shane is a nice guy and still feels responsible, guilty. This... Affection, this craving for intimacy with his best friend is not new. It’s grown slowly over time, and at first Ryan’s response had been to reject it, he would protest any closeness, deny himself. The harder he tried, the weaker he became and he allowed it, allowed himself to savour the fleeting touches, the way it makes his heart skip to see Shane’s face across from his in the mornings they spent on location or in shared motel beds.
Shane’s bedside manner, is too much all at once, an alarming assault of all the tenderness that Ryan craves from the man. He’s been trying so hard to maintain boundaries, to not use Shane for his affection when he has no idea about Ryan’s crush, that he’s well on his way to ruining everything anyway.
“You sure are.” A voice sounds to his left and Ryan starts so hard that he jolts his broken leg.
“Fuck!” He hisses “Ow Jesus fuck oh my God.”
“Shit sorry.” TJ mutters, leaning forward in Shane’s chair as Ryan tries to breathe slowly through his nose until the pain returns to a dull throb. Ryan waves him off, head thumping back against the back of his chair. Maybe returning to work so soon was a bad idea, it’s barely lunchtime and he’s already exhausted.
“Maybe I should just go home.” He mutters.
“Well Shane had the same idea, he hightailed it home about 10 minutes ago, said he wasn’t feeling great and he’d work from home.” TJ grimaces, suggesting that he suspects Shane’s excuse was a lie.
“What?”
“He went home dude. I don’t know what happened but when I saw him in the kitchen he looked like a man on the damn edge. He dropped his coffee cup and it smashed and boy I was about to burst into tears for the guy.”
“Fuck” he mutters, rubbing at his forehead and slumping in his chair.
“You should lay off him.” TJ says, leaning forward in Shane's chair and fiddling with a pot of pens Ryan has never seen him actually use. Ryan rolls his eyes. “I'm serious Ry look,” he pauses, looks Ryan straight in the eye like he's scolding a child “I know Shane can be annoying and the fuss is pissing you off but you weren't exactly alert for most of that night okay? It was scary even though you came out okay. It fucked us all up a little bit but mostly Shane, he felt responsible an-”
“I told him it's fine!”
“ And , he's head over heels for you dude.”
“I-what?!” Ryan hisses but TJ waves him off seemingly uninterested in being roped into playing he said she said.
“Whatever, the guy would throw himself down a thousand flights of stairs for you is what I'm saying.” TJ stands clearly uncomfortable at having gotten involved as much as he has. “I suspect you enjoy the fuss more than you'd care to admit.” He raises a knowing eyebrow. “Let him dote Ryan, at least give him that.”
Ryan stands abruptly and hisses as he twists his injured leg. He starts shoving his things haphazardly into his bag.
“What are you doing?” TJ says looking about as alarmed as he can manage which is to say not a lot.
“I'm leaving to give that asshole what he wants and a hell of a lot more.”
“Ryan, wha-?” TJ starts but Ryan is shouldering his bag and hobbling toward the exit as fast as his fucked up leg can carry him.
“I'm gonna give him a piece of my damn mind!”
Ryan barges into Shane’s apartment using the spare key he uses to check in on Obi when Shane is out of town. There’s a shrill scream and a terrified ‘ mmrrrp ’ before Shane’s giant head peers at him from behind the couch.
“So... What the fuck?” He asks, warily watching Ryan hobble through his front door. Obi scuttles out from underneath the coffee table and plods toward him, wasting no time before rubbing up against Ryan’s cast.
“So TJ told me I was being an asshole.”
“Why do you believe it when TJ says it but not me?”
“Because TJ is scary and also has dad energy now and I’m deathly afraid of disappointing my father so by extension I can’t disappoint Teej.”
“Okay we don’t have time to unpack all of that.” Shane says rising up to his knees and resting his arms against the back of the couch. “Teej is your dad now?”
“Teej is the dad not my dad.”
“And the distinction is?”
“My dad is called Steve and he’s a dentist and he’s also not white.” Ryan deadpans as he pours out some corn kernels ready for poppin’. His palms are sweaty and he’s nervous but Shane laughs, bright and breathy and the iron bird cage trapping his heart swings open. His heart is free and now it feels like a fly that can’t seem to find the open window, frantically smashing into the glass rather than heading straight for its escape.
“So what’s this all about?” Shane says, making his way toward the kitchen and scratching Obi behind the ear on his way past. Ryan sighs, watches as Shane flicks on his coffee machine with trembling fingers. It still startles him, to see evidence of how shaken Shane is, even when on the surface he seems completely fine.
“I haven’t been fair to you. You’ve been amazing, you’ve had my back and you literally carried me away from danger. You’re a good friend, you just wanna make sure I’m okay. And it must’ve been scary, witnessing that...” Ryan’s voice fades and he stares at the gently popping popcorn.
A clatter of porcelain startles him. Shane’s mug is upturned on the counter, hot coffee spreading and dripping onto the floor. Shane braces himself on the counter, forearms trembling with the effort.
“Hey, hey you alright?”
“It was a close call and I don’t know what I- it was my-”
“C’mon big guy,” Ryan starts, placing his own hands over Shane’s shaking ones. “You know it wasn’t your fault. It’s only a broken leg and a bad concussion, it could’ve been worse but it won’t be, it never will be. So long as I have you around, I know I’m not in any real danger.”
“I know it isn’t that bad.” Shane grumbles, he runs his right hand through his hair, mousey strands standing up in every direction. His other holds tight to Ryan’s, still shaking slightly in his grasp. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re a grown ass man, you can take care of yourself but it’s like every time you’re so much as out of my sight it feels like I can’t breathe.”
“You’re really beating yourself up over this aren’t you?” Ryan tilts his head, the full extent of Shane’s fear revealing itself like hairline fractures on fine china. “Hanging out with you, it’s like having a sentient pool noodle follow me around. You won’t let me drown, but you might be the one to push me in in the first place.”
Shane laughs shakily and he looks down at their joined hands.
“I guess the accident wasn’t really my fault,” Ryan punches the air in triumph and Shane’s mouth ticks up into the sweetest smile “but I still feel guilty, I didn’t want you to figure out-”
“Figure out what?” Shane’s thumb brushes over the back of his hand.
“That me watching out for you? It was out of more than just friendly concern.”
Ryan smiles, ducks his head just enough to meet Shane’s eyes. “Then I guess I’m guilty too,” he says “because I’ve spent this whole time wishing you were doting on me ‘cause you wanted to and not just because you felt bad.” Shane makes a strange gurgling sound then, like he’s crying and laughing and drowning all at the same time. Shane’s hand slips from his grasp to cup his face, warm broad palms, finally steady and sure again, holding him like something precious, something to be revered and admired. It makes him feel special, coveted, and he revels in it because he’s allowed to, because Shane wants him to.
“Can I kiss you?” Shane asks, a boyish grin spreading across his face as a look of wonder lights up his eyes. Ryan curls his hands around Shane’s wrists, feeling his pulse flutter beneath the thin pale skin.
“Well duh.” He says pulling him in.
They don’t let go until they can smell burning and together they mourn the loss of too many good kernels.