Work Text:
Shane had always struggled with finding joy in small or simple things. It took him months of therapy as a depressed teen to finally be able to write down at least three things that made him happy every day. He sometimes was only able to think of two, but his therapist let that slip. It took him a few more years after that for him to realize that all he needed (apart from some antidepressants) was someone who would share a new perspective with him.
Ryan noticed everything, and Shane eventually learnt that to be the first step to finding joy in the small things. He once saw his friend’s eyes glisten with delight when he went into work one day and commented on how much prettier the new ceiling fans made the office look. Shane didn’t even know they had ceiling fans. He saw them again, those sparkling eyes, when he handed him his coffee the morning after an especially terrifying investigation (he also noticed a small smile forming on Ryan’s face when he looked at the scribblings on the plastic cup and realized Shane had his very specific order memorized). After that, he saw the glistening of tears threatening to fall turn into the shine he was used to seeing in his best friend’s eyes when he told him he’d fake a stomachache so they could leave the haunted location before having to stay overnight. Then again, when someone at the office asked him if he had been working out lately. Once more, whenever he listened back to the audio recordings of their investigations and was convinced he had found evidence.
Eventually, Shane got so used to it that it took him a while to realize that, along the way, he had learnt to notice.
Everything he noticed was about Ryan, but that was good enough for him to find joy in what he found.
He understood that when people referred to “the little things” they didn’t necessarily mean a stranger smiling at him on the streets or receiving an unexpected gift. Perhaps they meant Ryan’s concentrated frown when analyzing a video or audio, or his habit of fiddling with the strings of his hoodies. Maybe it was the feeling of a hand finding his own when Ryan felt himself getting too scared, or being asked to hang out with him on a Friday night after a whole week of working together. They meant contacts being occasionally replaced by glasses, or usually styled up hair down under a hood; perhaps a wide repertoire of inside jokes, or knowing glances and comfort touches when feeling down. Maybe they meant feeling his heart flutter at Ryan’s giggle after hearing something silly on the spirit box, or butterflies flying around in his stomach at his wide eyed expression when he thought he heard a response.
And it was there, over the irritating sound of that awful device, where he realized that finding joy in the little things felt a lot like falling in love.