Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bill had worked at Huntington Memorial Hospital for almost thirty years. As a security guard, he’d seen a lot. From an elderly couple trying to save a few bucks with DIY root-canals, to a woman bringing the raccoon that bit her in on a leash to "check if it had rabies", nothing really fazed him anymore.

So when he heard two men squabbling in the parking lot, it wasn’t too out of the ordinary. It was late on a humid Saturday night, and Bill was used to the usual drunks, addicts, and others who had partied too hard. This particular night had been, thankfully, unremarkable. Just a few heart attacks and strokes, which the staff was well prepared to handle.

So he didn’t have much else to do besides observe the men aggressively gesturing at each other outside the emergency room entrance. It was a little confusing; he couldn’t tell which one was injured. Both looked fine, physically. Maybe it was a mental health crisis? Bill casually shuffled closer to eavesdrop. Apparently, his subtlety was unnecessary, because the two were completely absorbed in their argument:

“For the last time, I don’t want to go in!” the shorter man protested. He was visibly sweating, with a flushed face.

“It doesn’t matter, Ryan! No one wants to be here. Stop being ridiculous.” The taller man raked his hand through his hair. He was quite disheveled, looking like he had haphazardly thrown his clothes on. The buttons on his shirt weren’t even lined up correctly.

“I’m being ridiculous? Are you fucking serious, Shane?! YOU’RE the one who-”

“I KNOW WHAT I DID, RYAN! And I’m so sorry, okay? I’ll keep apologizing as much as you want, but don’t you think the best apology would be, uh, I don’t know, actually fixing this?”

The man named Ryan groaned. “There’s gotta be another way. I’m not going in there.”

“We tried the other ways. I can’t fucking reach it! And I am not using tongs. What, are you just gonna sit on the toilet for days and wait it out? Maybe I should set up an office for you in there. Get you a nice nameplate.”

“NOT FUNNY! It’s way too early for jokes, dude. I don’t want to freaking talk about it; let’s just go home.”

“You think I want to be here?!” the one referred to as Shane exclaimed. “Not exactly my ideal Saturday night either, man.”

“Well, this is YOUR fault! You invited me over! Making me dinner and serving wine like some kind of-” Ryan tried to turn away, but stopped mid-step, wincing noticeably.

Shane’s anger dissipated. He reached for the other man, before appearing to think better of it. “Hey, careful Ry, don’t move too quickly, okay? Easy, there.” Ry ignored him.

“I’m. Going. To. The. Car.”

Each word was punctuated with an awkward half-waddle/half-hop. Did he hurt his hip or something? Shane blocked his path.

“Goddamn it Ryan, this is for your own good! I’m worried for you!”

He crossed his arms petulantly. “No.”

“No, what? No, I’m not worried about you?! Really? You’re acting like a child.”

“Don’t care,” Ryan retorted. “You can’t make me go in!”

“Oh, is that what you think?” There was an edge of a threat in that voice. He stalked towards the smaller man, whose eyes widened.

“Fuck off, Shane! You can’t make me-” Shane grabbed his arm, raising his eyebrows in warning when Ryan tried to pull away. “Back off!"

Yup, time to get involved. Unfortunately, domestic violence was common in Bill’s line of work. It wasn’t always a burly man knocking around some helpless woman. It happened between all types of people, and abusers often accompanied victims to the hospital to ensure they kept their mouths shut. This could certainly be the case here.

“Break it up, boys!” The men jumped. “What’s going on here?”

“My friend needs help, but he’s being a stubborn idiot about it,” Shane replied coolly. Bill glanced between them, wondering why they’d suddenly stopped making eye contact with each other.

“Well, are you hurt?” Bill asked the other.

“No, I’m fine-”

“Yes, he’s hurt!”

Bill sighed. He looked at the man with the ridiculously unkempt hair. Has the guy ever heard of a comb?

“You. Your name is Shane, right?”

“... Yes.”

“Alright, Shane, so first I hear you two arguing for ten minutes, then you’re grabbing him by the arm and threatening to drag him in, and now you’re answering his questions for him. What’s your problem, man?”

“My problem?!” Shane squawked, “Are you serious? I’m just trying to get him some medical attention, but he keeps refusing to-”

“Yeah, why do you keep talking for me, Shane? Seems pretty controlling.” Ryan gave his friend a look that Bill couldn’t quite decipher. Shane glanced between them, growing increasingly exasperated.

“What?! You really think I’m some sort of...? Listen, I just want-”

“Alright, alright,” Bill cut him off. He’s done listening to this. “If you really mean well, why don’t you just let me talk to your friend alone, huh?”

“Yeah Shane, why don’t you?”

“Seriously? I’m not- UGH!" Shane threw his hands up in the air. "Fine.” He backed up a couple feet.

“Further.” The man rolled his eyes and retreated a few more steps.

“Further,” Ryan joined in, smirking. Shane groaned and backed up until he was near the corner of the building.

“Further.” Ryan looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Good!?"

"Hmmm, I don't think so. I don't feel quite comfortable yet. A little further, please?" The tall man stomped around the corner. Thirty seconds later, there came a distant:






“UGH! IS THIS OKAY?!”

“YUP, THANKS BRO!” Ryan yelled back cheerfully. He snickered. Bill raised an eyebrow. “No, uh, he’s not abusing me or anything like that. We’re fine. I just wanted him to stop hovering for a Goddamn minute.”

Bill wasn’t convinced. “Alright, but he’s been pretty insistent. Did you two come here in his car? I can call you a separate ride home, if you'd like. There’s a police station just down the street if you want to make a report…”

“No, really, he’s the farthest thing from an abuser. He’d never hurt me.” Ryan began to look guilty. “He’s my best friend, actually. We’re good. He’s just being overprotective.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, as long as he can’t actually force me to go in, right?”

“That’s correct.” It doesn’t look like he’s having a heart attack or anything. “It’s your choice whether or not to receive medical care. You're sweating a lot though, sure you don’t have a fever or something?”

"I'm fine." Bill could see Shane striding towards them in the distance. Wow, guess we should be grateful the jerk gave us two whole minutes. He approached them to stand next to Ryan sullenly.

"He said you can't make go in. We're going home," Ryan said resolutely, heading towards the parking lot.

“Okay, Ryan. Sure. Your choice. Want me to tell him why we’re here? So, we were making out in my bedroom earlier and it was super hot. Like, Ryan kept making this noise, right? We wanted to take it a little further, but not all the way ya know, and so that’s when Ryan had the fantastic idea to try-”

“-Shut the hell up, Shane!” Ryan’s face was aflame. “I’m going, okay? I’m going. Let’s go. Thank you, sir.”

“Yeah, thanks sir,” Shane repeated sarcastically as he helped his friend limp into the waiting room.

That was a quick change of heart. Bill shrugged. Time to go back to his rounds.

"One more thing, boys." They turned. "Whichever one of you has that buzzing phone needs to turn it off. Cellphones aren't allowed in the ER."

What the hell is up with their expressions?!

Chapter Text

Working reception for an emergency room isn’t nearly as interesting as you’d think. Daysha recently switched to the night shift, which was even less eventful. She leaned back and swiveled in her chair, frowning at her crossword puzzle.

Five letter word for a woman’s best friend.

Hmm. Not diamonds. Or chocolate. Shopping? Nope, that’s more than five letters. 'Girls just wanna have fun!', she hummed. Actually, what girls really want is respect, equal pay, the dismantling of the patriarchy, and maybe a sword, but that’s certainly more than five letters…

Daysha’s musings were interrupted by two men disjointedly lurching into the waiting room. The tall one was supporting most of his (boyfriend’s?) weight. The short one had cutie potential, but tonight he looked more like the walking dead. More like the limping, stumbling, swearing under his breath, dead, but you get the picture. Here we go. The two approached her desk. The grumpy one refused to make eye contact. The other drummed his long fingers on the counter.

“Hi, there. So, um, we’re here because my friend Ryan has…” the short one shot him a death glare, “... a blockage.”

“A blockage?”

“Yup,” he rocked on his heels, “A blockage.” Do I really want to know? He seemed reluctant to expand on that, anyways. But Doctor O’Malley would be annoyed if Daysha didn’t document the details.

Daysha cautiously looked Ryan up and down. He bit his lip and crossed his arms, swaying a little. The other was watching him softly. Wish that dreamy nursing intern would look at me like that.

“Uh… which orifice?” Daysha might've heard Ryan mumble 'Iwannadie' under his breath. His friend took over.

“His, um, glutes? Buttocks?” Oh. My. Gosh. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh…

“How far could you possibly...? Nevermind, I don’t need to hear any more. Here’s some paperwork; I’ll let them know you’re here." She looked at the one trying to melt into the floor. "The doctor will probably start with an x-ray, so I would relieve yourself first, ya know, if the other hole still works...”

“-Got it! We don’t need any more information. Thanks,” Ryan grabbed the clipboard and hobbled away as fast as his blocked buttocks would allow. Wasn’t he going to answer that phone?

Actually, his back pockets are empty...

... Oh!

Daysha chuckled as she finished her crossword. They must've overheard. Ryan groaned and hid his face in his friend's shoulder. The other waited patiently, curling a protective arm around his waist. Cute.

“Thanks for making it seem like I am literally full of shit!” Ryan hissed as Shane led him to the closest chair, “How freaking embarrassing!”

“Hey. Constipation sends thousands to the emergency room every year. Besides, I thought you’d prefer that to the real explanation.” Ryan grumbled unintelligibly. “Uh, aren’t you going to sit down? I can grab you a wheelchair…”

“No, I’m not!” Ryan was bracing two hands against the wall, like an upright plank. The position was vaguely sexual, bringing Shane’s mind back to just a few hours ago, when things had finally moved forward with his best friend, when he was so excited and hopeful… “You know exactly why I can’t sit down,” he accused. That's enough.

Shane stopped filling out Ryan’s paperwork, gripping the pen in his fist.

“Alright, I’m sick of taking 100% of the blame here. How was I supposed to know your ass was a black hole?!”

Ryan gasped. “Excuse you, I was an ass virgin!”

“Could’ve fooled me, ‘Slip’N’Slide’ Bergara.”

“HEY!” Ryan sputtered, “Only because you used a ridiculous amount of lube.” They both ignored the receptionist unabashedly laughing behind her desk. “You dumped it on me like the friggin’ ice bucket challenge!”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“Oh yeah,” Ryan scoffed, “Great job on that front.”

“Great job to your butt muscles," Shane shot back intelligently, "That thing got sucked up so fast, it’s probably in an alternate reality now. Or maybe just floating around the void.”

“My insides are not a void! And you think this is on me? You reached in there like a plumber. Newsflash, there's no diamond ring stuck down this sink!" Shane's mouth fell open. "Sex shouldn't be like stuffing a turkey.” Now, that one hurt. So Ryan didn't like it? He tried not to pout.

“Listen,” Shane snapped, “I’ve never done ‘butt-stuff’ either, alright? From my limited research, it seemed like it'd be a process to loosen everything. Not my fault you opened for me like a Starbucks at 6am. And don’t pretend you know so much about the human body. Two weeks ago you thought hair grew out from your skull!”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Touché, human-vacuum.”

“Whatever…” Ryan winced and readjusted himself. It reminded Shane, once again, how much he’d messed up.

“Hey, hey Ry… You okay? Does it hurt?” Shane stood up, hovering around his friend who had almost become more than a friend. Goddamn it. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. “Ryan? I’m sorry man, I really am. I feel terrible. You’re the last person on this planet that I’d ever want to hurt. Really.”

“S’not your fault,” Ryan mumbled, “I’m sorry, too. And dude, I was literally begging for it. I was the one who kept asking for more, more, more…” He flushed. Awww. Don’t be embarrassed Ry, you’ve given me jerk-off material for the next ten years.

Ryan was breathing slowly. He was probably in so much pain. Shane’s heart constricted.

Shane had always, always been the one who could comfort Ryan, reassure him, cheer him up, make him laugh even in the darkest of places. He took pride in that. But tonight, he was at a loss.

“... What do you need?” he asked gently. To his surprise, Ryan turned away from the wall, straight into his arms. Shane carefully, so carefully wrapped his arms around his best friend. He even risked placing his chin over his head, gaining confidence from the very recent development from fist-bumps and pats on the shoulder to, well, that.

“I hate hospitals,” Ryan mumbled into his chest.

“Me, too. This sucks.”

“My grandma died in this place...” Oh. So that’s why he's so snippy. Shane held Ryan tighter.

“Oh, Ryan... I’m so sorry. I’m here for you, okay? I'm not actually mad at you; I'm just worried. I’ll stop being an asshole now, I promise.

Ryan sighed. “Me, too,” he relented, “and I don’t ever want to hear that word again.” Shane gave Ryan another squeeze.

“Deal.”

"The doctor will see you now."

There was genuine fear in Ryan’s eyes when he pulled back to look at Shane. Poor baby.

“Please come with me?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course, Ry,” Shane said soothingly, “That’s a given.”

Chapter Text

Once again, the hospital was understaffed, leaving Steven to fend for himself. His maroon scrubs rustled as he fast-walked down the hallway. Who needs bathroom breaks? Not a nurse juggling five patients! Steven grimaced at Daysha as he passed by. What’s with that knowing smile? Whatever. Time to be a professional. He squinted at the clipboard.

“... Mr. Ryan Bergara?” At this hour, there were only three people left in the waiting room. Three people and one deer in the headlights. That’s him. “Hi, there. You can call me Steven.” He tried for a reassuring smile. “Come back with me; I'm just going to be doing an initial assessment.” A lanky man trailed along. “Uh, and you are?”

“Oh sorry, I’m Shane.” Steven raised an eyebrow.

“Hi, Shane. I meant, what’s your relationship to the patient?” Shane looked helplessly at Ryan.

“He’s my... emergency contact.” They both visibly relaxed.

That wasn’t a trick question. Ugh, are they drunk?

“Alright, then. Follow me.”

These men were ridiculous.

“No judgment, okay? It'll stay in this room. We legally can't share your medical information with anybody. Just tell me.” Three more hours until I get to go home.

Shane gestured at Ryan. “You’re the patient.”

“C-Can you tell him, please?” Shane rolled his eyes.

“Fine. There's no other way to say this: I jammed a pink dildo up his ass.”

Keep your poker face, Steven!

“The goal was to pull it back out, obviously. I mean like, put it in and pull it back out a couple times, uh…” Smack! Ryan facepalmed. Shane tried again. “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. It sunk like the Titanic.”

Silence.

Uhhhh...

“... Did you have to say it was PINK?”

“For the last time, colors don't have genders, Ryan! Besides, he’s going to find out sooner or later.” Lucky me. “Should we bite the bullet and tell him about the rhinestones, too?”

“WILL YOU SHUT YOUR-”

Steven found his voice. “Actually, we do need to know that. Don’t want to, uh, scratch anything up there. You know, when we put you under and extract it.”

Ryan looked like he was about to pass out. Shane grabbed his hand.

“Stop it,” he scolded, “You’re scaring him!”

Thankfully, Steven maintained his composure. He reminded himself that these two were, diagnosably, ridiculous.

“I’m going to take your vitals now, okay?”

There was a reason Steven didn't take the pediatric route. Managing children was not his strong point. He did his best to ignore the quarreling, focusing instead on the thump of Ryan’s heartbeat. A little fast, but it’d probably be normal if this idiot stopped chattering.

“How on earth is it still buzzing, Ryan? It’s been over two hours. The batteries should’ve died out by now.”

“Deep breath...” Steven instructed, moving the stethoscope a few inches to the left.

“Like, are you storing extra juice up there? Can’t believe I’m best friends with the energizer bunny.”

“Deep breath…” Steven didn’t know whether he was talking to Ryan or himself anymore.

“Man, this is like a modern day sword in the stone. Only Merlin could get this friggin’ thing out.” Ryan finally took the bait.

“ARTHUR!” he shrieked, “The dude who pulled the sword out of the stone was Arthur!"

Shane looked thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, I don’t even know if Arthur could take on this one. At least he had a hilt to work with.”

Steven wrapped a band around his patient’s arm, pumping a bulb so it squeezed tighter and tighter.

“Arthur’s friend didn’t buy the cheapest, most low quality sex toy ever.”

“Wow, Ryan. Fine. I’ll make sure the next one has a tampon string.”

Tighter and tighter…

Of course, Shane still had more to say: “Do we really need to stay here? By this time, you’ve probably absorbed it. You have the Buttload of Fun!™ collection in your DNA now.”

Before Ryan could retort, Steven stuck a thermometer in his mouth.

“Well, your temperature’s normal.” Mine’s not.

“Hey Ry, when you pass gas after this, you think it’s gonna sound like the Goodyear™ blimp?”

Ryan’s jaw dropped in horror.

“Or actually… probably more like when they deflate the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade floats. Yikes.”

Ryan looked helplessly at Steven.

“Uh, it won’t be that bad, but it'll feel different for a while. You'll have inflammation and some soreness for a couple of days. And with the stretching, well, it might sound-”

Shane clapped his hands over his friend’s ears.

“Now, why would you tell him that?” he hissed, “My God, can’t you tell he’s nervous enough?!”

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep FUCKING breaths…

Chapter Text

Doctor O’Malley swept her red hair aside to get a better look at the x-ray. It was quite something. The foreign body was nestled snugly in the patient’s rectum. His hip bones curved gracefully around the oblong object. The symmetry resembled a butterfly, fanning its phosphorescent wings out into the darkness. She blinked and shook her head. How’s that for an inkblot test? Dr. O’Malley sometimes got sentimental on these late nights, where she’d rather be nestled snugly on the couch with her girlfriend.

Anyways, this was a straightforward case. The obstruction wasn’t deep enough to require invasive measures. After the vibration died out, they’d be able to extract the object fairly easily with partial sedation. The only risk was damage to the rectal wall, but it was low. You don’t get this far in your medical career without steady hands. The most significant injury was to Ryan Bergara’s pride.

She tucked the butterfly into her files and thought about the metamorphosis across the hall. It was strange; she’d almost kicked out the patient’s “friend.” When Dr. O’Malley first entered the room, his companion was making dumb remark after remark. His medical knowledge was terribly inaccurate, and he delighted when Ryan's eyes widened. It was borderline harassment.

“... I don’t know, I get that they have to remove it; I just really hate the idea of someone’s hand up my ass.”

“You didn’t seem to a few hours ago.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“Mr. Madej, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can wait in the reception area.”

“Wait, no!” they objected in unison. Ryan clung onto Shane, who looked down with soft surprise, as if a monarch just landed his arm. “I need him.”

“Sorry, I’ll be good! I’m here to help him, I swear. Uh, glass of water, Ryan?” He offered an overflowing plastic cup.

“Alright, then.” It was the patient’s choice. As she overheard Ryan laugh at Shane’s (unfunny) jokes, she thought, perhaps, there were butterflies in his stomach as well. Can’t help with that one.

They’d been waiting out the persistent dildo for about an hour since the doctor saw them. Shane knew his best friend inside and out, (quite literally). He knew Ryan was in pain, nervous about the removal, and uncomfortable with hospitals in general, but something else was off. He could tell. There had to be another reason he stopped laughing at Shane’s jokes, ‘cause they were straight bangers.

“... As I was saying, I expect full compensation for my property damage, Bergara. Or, I guess it’s more like theft, because I am never getting that thing back...”

“Will you just stop already?” Ryan snapped. “It’s not funny. You hurt me, Shane.”

That certainly shut him up.

The boys sat in silence for a few minutes.

Ryan texted Jake, the only other person in the world he’d share this debacle with, as Shane counted the cracks on the ceiling tiles.

10...

20...

30…

How many would it take for the whole thing to come crashing down?

Shane thought about the past five years with his best friend. They were rarely serious with each other, but they had an understanding. It didn’t need communicating. Or at least, he’d thought so.

“... I’m really sorry, Ry. I was just trying to make you laugh, it usually helps with these kind of things…”

“Not this time, alright?” Ryan finally looked up. Shane’s stomach dropped.

“Okay. Whatever you need… Please stop crying, Ry. Just tell me what you want me to do. Like, anything and I’ll do it.” Shane swallowed. “I’ll even leave, if you want me to.” He braced himself.

“I wasn’t talking about the damn dildo,” Ryan muttered. Shane just barely heard it.

“What do you mean?” Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head. Shane tentatively reached for his hand. That’s what sensitive people do, right? Sensitive people who don’t injure their friend and make him cry on the same damn night, because they can actually express their feelings. Ryan has always been the brave one.

“Please tell me.”

Ryan spoke to their joined hands.

“When I said you hurt me, I wasn't talking about this. Why did you have to say what you said in the car?”

“What did I say?” Did I manage to fuck up this night even more? “Look, honestly, I don’t remember. I was freaking panicking, man, and I never panic. I have more empathy for you on our investigations now; I couldn’t even think straight. I was just rambling.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t mean the part when you said this ruined everything, because now we can’t pretend this never happened?”

Oh. “Uh… yes? No. I don’t… is that what you want? Because I can do that. Like, full on x-men style memory erasure-”

“No! For God’s sake, that’s exactly the opposite of what I’m saying." Ryan sighed. "You’re an idiot, so looks like I have to spell it out for you: I have feelings for you, Shane. Strong feelings, okay? I wanted this to mean something; I thought it did…” he trailed off.

It took a minute for Shane’s brain to reboot.

“Oh my God, you’re right. I’m an idiot. See, by stowing away a dildo in your ass for an indefinite, uh-” Great start, there. “The dildo meant I like-like you, okay?” He took a breath. “I, Shane “Whoops! Where’d it Go?” Madej, am in love with you, Ryan Slip’N’Slide Bergara. Sorry I’m so bad at this; this is only like the fourth emotion I’ve ever had,” he finished sheepishly. One day, Shane’s going to learn how to express himself without making a joke.

Ryan had stopped crying. “I love you too, and you’re my idiot. I’d lean over to kiss you right now, but that might split me in half.”

“Let me help.” Shane placed his hand on Ryan’s thigh and leaned in for one soft, lingering kiss. Blissful silence followed. No communication was needed, because they had an understanding.

“Hey, the buzzing stopped.”

When Ryan woke up, it felt like only a minute later. Wasn’t he just following Dr. O’Malley’s instructions to breathe deeply into the anesthesia mask? He cracked his eyes open to see his oversized friend sprawled out on an undersized chair, flipping through a Martha Stewart magazine.

“Hey…” Shane looked up in surprise.

“Hey there, baby. You finally fully awake?” Ryan stretched.

“I think so. Did everything go okay?” Shane smiled.

“Everything went great. You’re totally fine. Guess they don’t call them buns of steel for nothing. Except…” Shane looked over Ryan’s shoulder. He was too sore to turn over.

“What is it?”

“Oh. My. God.”

“What? What?!” Ryan’s voice was shrill. “Did it puncture my insides? Am I dying?” He craned back as far as his stiff neck would allow, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Shane took a deep breath.

“Congratulations, it’s a baby girl!”

Ryan turned back to see the idiot wiggling the demon dildo in front of his face. He groaned.

“She’s beautiful, she has your, uh...”

Ryan just barely had the energy to glare.

“Is the bit over? Okay, the bit’s over. Damn, I was saving that one.” Ryan shoved his face into the itchy hospital pillow.

“Aww, Ryan, don’t-” He felt a hand awkwardly pat his back. Ryan abruptly sat up.

“A baby girl?”

“Uh, okay… maybe that wasn’t in the best taste-”

“A BABY GIRL?!”

"Alright, I'm sorry!"

"A FUCKING BABY GIRL?!"

“Quiet down,” Shane hissed, cheeks turning pink. “People are staring! I’m sorry, okay?”

Ryan burst into giggles. “I had a baby girl, Shane!”

“Uh, yeah? Ha ha… you okay man?”

“No!” Ryan gasped.

“No?? Alright, you’ve officially lost it. I’m calling someone over.” Shane frantically flagged down a nurse. Ryan grabbed his arm.

“No!” He repeated. Shane really looked concerned at this point, maybe the most concerned that Ryan had ever seen him. “Shane, we had a baby girl!” He couldn’t stop laughing. “And I thought two dudes couldn’t have babies! Should’ve used a condom, eh?”

Some of the color returned to Shane’s face. “You are going to be the death of me, Bergara.”

“Don’t have sex…” Ryan began, “Or you will get pregnant. And die.” Shane chuckled and sat back down, feeling better now that Steven was headed their way.

“Just don’t do it, okay?” he finished. Ryan giggled, his grip sliding down to squeeze Shane’s hand.

Thank God Shane had finally convinced Ryan to use a wheelchair.

“... You can come back to my place, okay? I’ll take of you. We’ll tell people it was a basketball injury or something equally manly. And fair is fair. You have my full permission to shove whatever foreign object you want up my ass after this. Free reign, Bergara.”

“Cool, ‘cause I already have some ideas.”

Oh, no. Am I going to regret that statement?