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"What you just did right there, is sacrilege of the highest form."
Ryan angles his head, leveling what he proudly deems his intimidating look at Shane sitting in the chair next to him.
They're shooting Top 5 in Ryan's living room, the spread of his kitchen behind him the most confusing mix of comfort and stress. Sure, they've spent hours and hours in this very spot discussing and planning and going crazy over this stupidly high-risk project, but up until a week ago when they really put down the cash to get the filming equipment, it all seemed as real as a dream.
Now, with the scorching lights and cameras trained on him in his place of residence, cloth thrown over the windows to block out the night, casting the room in a soft beige tint, Ryan thinks anything could happen.
Shane leans back with his board in his hands, the very sight of the scrawled name of the restaurant comfortably nestled in third place paining Ryan on both physical and spiritual levels. It is completely unacceptable. An abomination to humanity itself.
"I've never even heard of that place. Steven!" He gesticulates at Shane with his marker and calls out to Steven sitting just out of the frame, because he's gotta get some sort of sane Californian opinion on this, no matter what Steven's actual native state is. Ryan cannot be alone in this.
"Thank you!" He throws out a hand in a half salute when he receives--an albeit longsuffering-- frown and shake of the head from Steven. But it was a vote in his direction.
"I like it, and that's enough," Shane smiles at him with his curvy eyes, waving a hand in a there-there gesture and Ryan can feel himself bristling. "Our opinions are different, isn't that the whole point of this show?"
"The point," Ryan says tightly, an accusing marker pointed at the offending name, "Is that you provide sensible reasons in support of those opinions."
"I laid out a very well-made argument, you're the one that shot it down."
"I did not," Shane's giving him that look that says you know you're wrong , something he has had to endure for the past four years on Unsolved. And fine, maybe he is, but that's not important. "It broke down on its own, it's so little known you may as well have written your address on there to represent your mom's cooking."
"Watch it Bergara, my mother's cooking is amazing."
"Well, you better write the Madej name down on that board there then."
"I'll write it on you next."
It's a stupid comeback, really, like what a middle schooler would come up with. Ryan would have realized this, may even have commented on it, if only he could think at all.
Because there is just something about the way Shane leans in, voice pitched low and eyes narrowed with intent, his big hands curled around the edge of the modified whiteboards in a secure hold. Ryan shivers, he can't help it, feeling heat rising high on his cheeks.
It's barely been two months, and this thing they have between them is the best thing that has happened to Ryan by far, he's sure.
It has just happened so fast, their first kiss, first date, first everything had been caught up in the whirlwind of setting up their own company, finally getting to create under their own names with no higher order than themselves. It is a lot, all this fresh freedom wrapped up in the new restraints they fight around every corner, but he'd be lying if it isn't exhilarating, like riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt.
So there hasn't been much time to process, to nurture their relationship the way that Ryan would have wanted. And every once in a while, the fact that there is now another layer to the bond they had accumulated and enforced through years of work and partnership; the strange not-changes that had just shifted into place. The fact that all the half-hidden and not so veiled suggestions and hints now have a secure chance of being acted upon -- it comes round to hit him all at once, leaving him flushed and tingling at the fingertips, desperately wondering what if .
Dimly, Ryan realizes that he hasn't said anything in reply. How long had he sat there with some kind of dopey look on his face, just staring at Shane? This is so absolutely not the time to do this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Steven shaking his head, that pained frown making another appearance. Shane has dropped his serious face, a satisfied tilt to his mouth that Ryan wants to see turn into a laugh.
So Ryan works with what he has, and sometimes that doesn't include spoken words.
"Oi!" Shane hollers when Ryan launches an attack on his bare arm via marker, the taller man scrambling to shift in his chair and holding his board out like a shield, inching his head out the side to peek at Ryan, "Now that's just rude." He declares, and Ryan thinks Shane would have even stuck out a finger if he wasn't gripping the board so hard.
"You brought it on yourself, big guy." Ryan arches an eyebrow, watching with some satisfaction as Shane's eyes slip down to his lips for just a second. At least he wasn't alone in this.
"So what was all that about?"
Shane must have noticed more than he let on, Ryan thinks later, when Shane crowds him against the sink, dipping his head to nip at the shell of Ryan's ear, words a rumble against his back.
"You're gonna have to be more specific," Ryan hums, leaning back into Shane to let the man feel his warmth, appreciating the sight of the two of them reflected in the mirror. Shane runs cold, something to do with circulation losing the fight against his stupid height and extra-long limbs. But it is quite nice when it comes to sharing a bed.
"You got real red back there, even Steven noticed."
Ryan's really tired, out-like-a-light tired, but heat coils in his gut almost instantly. He drops his gaze, suddenly too shy to even look at where Shane's eyes are twinkling. But it really doesn't help his situation, because then he sees what Shane's holding delicately in one hand.
It's the marker, the very same one, in fact, that he had used to dot Shane's arm with little black spots. Now those marks stook out stark against Shane's skin in the white light of the bathroom.
"You'd like it if I wrote my name on you wouldn't you?" Shane murmurs into his ear, twirling the plastic tube around in his hand casually, like he would have allowed himself to do while on camera. Now that's a thought. Ryan doesn't think he's breathing, he gives the barest of nods, eyes trained on the movement.
"Where would you like it, hmm? Here?" Shane's other hand skims along his side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He nudges the side of Ryan's neck with his nose, voice low, "Or here where everyone can see, where they can read my name and know you're mine?"
There's a pressure building, and Ryan's immensely glad they're doing this after he changed out of his jeans.
"Maybe I'll write it on you right here, so you can watch yourself come in the mirror?"
"Fuck." Ryan has to scrabble for a hold on the sink then, his knees losing friction and buckling under him. He feels like one of those car-wash blowy things, and Shane had just ripped out the plug to the engine, leaving him to crumple haphazardly towards the ground in a boneless heap.
But Shane's there to catch him, hands circling Ryans' waist in a steady hold.
"Too much?" Shane asks, catching his gaze in the mirror.
"Jesus." Ryan breathes, feeling Shane chuckle against him, the taller man ducking his head to press a kiss into Ryan's neck.
"There's not gonna be room for our pal JC tonight, I can promise you that."
"Shane. Oh my God." Ryan complains, eyes fluttering closed against the gentle brushes of hands and breath.
"Not him either."
"Shut up, Shane."
"Do you want me to?" Shane’s stubble is tickling the back of Ryan's neck, Shane’ voice a quiet murmur in his ear, and Ryan's has always been a sucker for those sweet sweet acoustics.
"Fuck no."
"Open your eyes for me, baby, I want you to see yourself for the next part."
Oh this is definitely a good way to end the night.
"Look who came in with makeup today."
Ryan's jolted out from his morning haze, head jerking up to see Jen smirking at him between the gaps of their computer monitors. It's a bright Monday morning, and they're back to shooting Unsolved at the ol’ BU office.
"What?" He asks, setting his mug carefully down on his desk, already half empty. He should really watch his caffeine count, he wouldn't be much use at work if he got all jittery during a shoot. But it's on Buzzfeed, so he's going to indulge just a little.
"Busy night was it?" Jen taps a hand on her neck lightly, eyes flitting over to where Shane was opening up his laptop, hair fluffed up and messy. And oh , oh fuck.
Ryan's hand shoots up to the side of his neck, mouth dropping open. They had left his place so hurriedly this morning, barely pulling on t-shirts and pants to fall into an Uber, Ryan had had to forfeit toothpaste for mints. There was no time for mirrors and grooming.
No time for other things too, as it turns out.
"How...?" He can't really bring him to finish the question, it seems so wrong to even talk about this here, but Jen takes pity on him.
"Very." She offers him a sympathizing grimace.
He reaches out to Shane blindly with a fluttering hand, and he thinks he accidentally taps the man across the face, but it does get his attention. Shane's eyes widen when Ryan turns to show him his neck.
"Oh shit." There's worry in his face as Shane does a quick once over to check if the others are showing, which they weren't. It’d be really problematic if they do, considering where they are. When he meets Ryan's eyes again, Ryan thinks he sees something like excitement glint there.
And maybe, just maybe, there's a thrill in Ryan's chest as well.
"Do you need...?" Shane starts, one arm outstretched as if he would bolt and fetch Ryan all the wet-wipes and concealer that he'd ever need, the moment Ryan asks. And Ryan's heart just absolutely melts for this man.
Slowly, Ryan lowers his hand to bare the black lines, the span of Shane's signature arcing across the side of his throat, probably along with the faint print of Shane's hand, if the tenderness there was any indication. Ryan's wide awake now, feeling his face heat up when Shane's eyes darken in the morning light.
"Oh Ryan." It shouldn't be possible to look sultry and soft at the same time, and Ryan is immensely glad that he gets to have this all to himself.
"Shane." He echoes, sitting up straighter in his seat. Jen whistles from across his desk.
"So you're leaving it on?" Shane leans on the arm of his chair, and now he's more confident, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "People are gonna take pictures, social media, etcetera, etcetera."
"Let them." Ryan crosses his arms and hooks a foot around Shane's ankle, offering the taller man a sly smile and savoring the sight of the blush creeping onto Shane's cheeks. "You did say it looked good last night."
Shane's eyes tilt until they're curvy, and he flashes a devious grin back, and Ryan knows today's gonna stretch like decades before they can rush home and fall on something soft, or crash against a wall. Both have proven equally effective.
"Oh you bet it does."