Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shayne’s finger was incessantly tapping against his crossed arms. His breaths came out in slow exhales. The warmth pooled underneath his facemask and seeped up towards his eyes. He blinked away the annoying sensation and took the moment to fiddle with his mask – adjust it a little so he wasn’t breathing straight into his eyes.

Smosh was abuzz with activity. It was their first day back at work, albeit in a limited capacity. It was the biggest relief imaginable to be back in the studio, like coming home after a long vacation. Everything was so paradoxically familiar, yet so different. The usually busy and crowded halls were sparsely packed. People pointedly kept their distance from one another – hell, Ian was going around with a stick, nudging people apart when they got too close. Socially distanced filming was going to be a challenge, but Shayne was all for the right precautions in these trying times.

And of course, there were the masks. They took lots of forms. From the standard surgical masks, to the N95 masks, and the trendy designer masks to ye olde handkerchief tied up over the face.

It was with great joy that Shayne found everyone to be complying dutifully with the mask policies in Smosh. They only ever came off during certain instances, such as when filming. And that was after they had tested negative and been cleared. And even then, after having just been tested, Shayne wasn’t eager to drop the mask. He didn’t plan on doing so until the cameras were rolling.

It was weird seeing people in person with their masks down. He sometimes had to stop himself from doing a double take, because oh right, that’s what the lower half of a human face looks like.

Not that he was complaining. The world was long overdue for a return to normalcy, even if it was just a partial one. Even if they had to do it step by step and minute by minute.

Today was a bit of a milestone for Smosh, since it would be their first socially distanced shoot. The script of this EBE, and everything else was already in order. They’d nailed down all those finer points during their e-meetings the weeks prior.

Now, all they were waiting on were the rest of the test results. Everyone that showed up today had already been tested, waited three to five days for the results, and tested negative. But Ian wanted to be doubly safe, rather than the entire studio being sorry. So, Smosh had a little licensed group of testers setup outside in a tent, where it was well ventilated, and risk of transmission was minimal. Shayne thumbed the small green dash on his wrist – the stamp they’d placed after he tested negative barely an hour ago.

The swab was a rather unpleasant experience, especially with just how deeply they jammed the damn thing up his nose. With a wince and a nasally voice, Shayne had asked if it was necessary to dig that deep. The nurse had answered him with a halfhearted shrug and a cringe-inducing turn of the swab – this was how to get reliable results.

Shayne twitched his nose to rid himself of the off-putting sensation. He continued to fidget from where he stood, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes scanning the well-spaced crowd, adjusting his mask – anything to try and distract himself.

Because the swab test’s discomfort was nothing compared to the unease that rumbled in his gut.

Courtney had gone into the testing tent a whole thirty minutes ago and had yet to emerge. Shayne was in and out in ten, so there was no telling what the cause for delay was.

A complication? Could she have tested positive?

Shayne let out a sharp exhale to clear the thought.

No, no. That couldn’t be it.

Courtney was one of the most careful people he knew. She took the pandemic as dead seriously as he and the rest of the squad did. She stayed home and kept her quarantine bubble small. It was a statistical improbability for her to have tested positive – and where would she have possibly gotten it from? Infected spittle from a no-contact toilet paper delivery because someone didn’t wear a mask?

Shayne frowned from beneath his own mask since that wasn’t all too farfetched.

There was a lot to be said about how long the virus survived outside of a host, how long it could hang around the air. The virus was a hardy thing that had no right to be so damn infectious and difficult to deal with. If it could pose a risk by simply hanging around the air after a careless sneeze – well, who was to say it couldn’t cling to the plastic wrapping of a shipment of toilet paper?

Shayne thumped the back of his head against the wall he was leaning against.

Courtney was fine.

She had to be fine.

His eyes peered on towards the tent, where he couldn’t so much as catch a glimpse of her blonde head of hair. That same stupid, gorgeous blonde head of hair that he looked forward to seeing in every video call.

Shayne had been eager to see her. A little more badly than he cared to admit. It was a long couple of months since they’d last seen each other in person. Today, he didn’t even get the chance to wave a greeting in her direction. Courtney was ushered straight into the testing tent before he could see so much as a glimpse of her.

Courtney had played a large part in keeping him sane the past few months.

Shayne liked to think he did the same for her.

It had all started after one Smoshcast or another. Shayne’s setup at home wasn’t exactly ideal for podcasting and general mic usage. To be heard, he had to make it a point to lean in towards his desk. If he just yammered on while leaning back in his comfy chair, the audio would be no good.

That was one reason he’d been less talkative as of late. The other reason was that he was going out of his fucking mind being cooped up. The monotonous sight of his own home – while not exactly three walls and a cell door – were grating on his nerves. He was trapped like an animal in a cage. Like he was a raccoon, and the world was his dumpster, and animal control had finally locked him up.

Shayne once more knocked the back of his head against the wall.

It was Courtney who noticed Shayne’s poor condition and dwindling sanity. After everyone had left the call and he was ready to get back to an exciting afternoon – staring at his wall, forcing himself to do a half-assed workout, stuffing his face with instant ramen – Courtney had surprised him.

Checking in on your friends and their mental health had always been a good practice. In quarantine, it was ten times as important.

Their little Facetime session went on for hours that day. They talked about anything and everything well into the evening.

When Shayne closed his eyes, it was like being back in the studio. He could practically see Courtney sitting on the edge of his desk. The corner of her mouth was quirked up in a mischievous smirk as she distracted him. There were scripts to be reviewed but all he could focus on was Courtney. The slurping sound as she sucked up the last remnants of her Starbucks. The faint scent of vanilla that came from either her coffee or her perfume. And of course, the finger she’d be poking him or his laptop with just to be annoying.

Yet when he opened his eyes and broke his little fantasy, he was still at home, all alone. But the sight of Courtney on his screen – hair up in a messy bun, dancing in her kitchen as she cooked up an amalgamation of kimchi and ramen – shit, he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled that widely.

Needless to say, Courtney made his entire day.

Shayne just didn’t expect her to go on and make his entire damn quarantine too with her near daily calls.

And now she was in that testing tent for – Shayne checked his watch again – forty-three minutes, and fuck he was not prepared to hear that his girl was down with the ‘rona.

Shayne snorted and the warm puff of air fanned his eyes.

His girl.

As if their Facetime flirtations would amount to anything. Knowing his luck, his latent and long-buried feelings for Courtney were bubbling back up just to be burst in the most spectacularly embarrassing manner. Sure, there was the occasional suggestive joke and refusal to hang up until either of them was on the cusp of sleep.

That didn’t count.

If Shayne’s messed up relationships had taught him anything, it was to never read too much into someone else’s words and actions. Doing that got you hurt. Getting hurt sucked. So, until Courtney made it crystal clear she was into him, there was no way he was putting himself out there. Shayne wasn’t about to ruin their friendship because he was lonely and growing way too attached to her.

But then there she was stepping out of the testing tent with a spring in her step, her golden hair bouncing with each stride like all was right in the world. Her eyes were creased in a smile hidden beneath her makeshift mask – black and adorned with a pattern of sunflowers.

Even beneath the mask, Shayne could tell Courtney’s smile looked like a sunflower in bloom. With those striking eyes like a healthy green stem for the golden petals that were her hair. He didn’t know how it was possible for someone to look so beautiful when he could barely see more than a third of her face.

Shayne realized he was staring.

He tried to avert his eyes, really.

(Not really)

The fact that she was walking straight towards him probably had something to do with it.

Shayne willed his brain to do something other than be overwhelmed by the fact Courtney was drawing closer with each stride of those long legs.

And of course, he just had to notice how good her toned legs were looking in the late morning sun.

Fuck.

Shayne tried not to stare. He really did.

(Not really)

Shayne thumped the back of his head against the wall a final time as Courtney stopped a socially distanced two meters away.

It was then that it hit him. When Courtney raised an arm up, hand easily hanging back without a care in the world. She had that same green dash stamped onto her wrist.

She’d tested negative.

The relief washed over him. It allowed him to finally feel something other than either anxiety or raw infatuation. The look must have been plain on his masked face, because Courtney’s well-groomed brows furrowed – perplexed, maybe a little amused.

Shayne was glad that Courtney broke the silence first. He wasn’t sure how to form coherent sentences in that moment.

“Stamp buddy?” Courtney waved her wrist in emphasis, and Shayne could practically hear the grin in her voice.

It was contagious, because Shayne was smiling right back underneath his mask. How could he not?

Shayne pushed himself off the wall to stand straight. As he did, he revealed the matching green dash on his wrist. With a nod, he confirmed, “Stamp buddies.”

The growing crease around Courtney’s eyes was the most endearing thing Shayne had seen in recent memory. It was soon followed by a tilt of the head and a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. He followed the motion over to the nearby corner. It led to the side of the studio, where only the maintenance folks would pass by.

Shayne was powerless to resist as Courtney took slow, deliberate steps around the corner and away from prying eyes. His legs moved on their own, bewitched by his favorite blonde siren’s call. They came to a stop around the corner, a good two meters away from one another. For the first time in months, they were alone together.

To prevent his lonely and touch-starved self from getting any bright ideas, Shayne asked, “What took you so long in there?”

Courtney’s shoulders bobbed with a casual shrug. “They had like, some kind of storage issue with the tests. They swabbed me twice because the first wasn’t getting results,” There was a noticeably displeased twitch of her nose beneath the handkerchief, “But anyway, I’m fine.”

Her eyes fixed on Shayne’s wrist as she added, “We’re fine.”

And so they were.

It was exceedingly difficult to stay where he was, leaning one shoulder on the wall. The two meters between them felt like two miles with how Courtney was just assailing his senses. The soothing tone of her voice which had lulled him to sleep on a few occasions. The sweet vanilla in the air which was undoubtedly her perfume this time and not her morning coffee. And the sight of her – Jesus – Shayne couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her halo of blonde hair, her lively green eyes, the subtle flex of muscle along her arm as she set a hand on her hip.

Shayne missed seeing her face – her cute nose and the even cuter smile beneath it. That damned smile he wanted to press his lips right up to.

But of course, he wasn’t about to do that.

He was too chickenshit.

There was no use putting himself out there and even beginning to express the notion that he was interested in Courtney. It would all just go and fuck itself up the –

“Oh my God, Shayne,” Courtney’s voice – louder this time – snapped him out of his thoughts. “Did you hear a word that I just said?”

Shayne blinked and licked his very dry lips behind his mask. He gave a halfhearted shrug to brush it off and raised his voice a pitch higher, “Yeah, ‘course I did.”

“Yeah,” Courtney mimicked his poor façade of nonchalance. “Really? What did I say?”

With a deep breath, Shayne knew he wasn’t digging his way out of this grave, but he was prepared to commit. He started off safe, “You…”

Courtney’s head tilted in expectation.

“Like…”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Butts.”

A loud huff erupted from beneath Courtney’s sunflower mask. She was quick to cover it up with a scoff and the defiant crossing of her arms. “You’re so dumb. Stop.”

Shayne feigned confusion and leaned in a fraction. His hands shot up in a show of exasperation, “What? Is that not what you said?”

“It’s not,” Courtney paused for just a moment as her head lolled to one side as if taking him in from a different angle. Her hand adjusted her makeshift mask. “You were too busy checkin’ me out to hear me.”

It was Shayne’s turn to sputter and scoff, and ultimately be glad the mask was concealing his flushed cheeks. The comeback was on the tip of his tongue, but Courtney stepping a foot closer effectively silenced him.

The fabric of Courtney’s mask shifted – as if she were about to follow up and knock him down with her quick wit. Instead, silence hung in the air as her bright green eyes ran all around his face. The familiar mischievous glint was joined by something else – a look, an emotion that Shayne couldn’t quite place.

Shayne wasn’t sure when he met her in the middle with a step forward. Maybe her perfume was laced with some kind of horndog-attracting pheromones. Maybe it was a minor shift in the Earth’s gravity. Maybe he really was just a sap that was falling hard, chickenshit or not.

Yet Shayne tempered the anticipation that swirled and fluttered in his stomach. That look Courtney was giving him could mean anything. It didn’t matter that all humor had left her expression. It didn’t matter that she was looking at him like a hungry wolf – he was surely just reading too much into –

“Fuck, Shayne,” Courtney took yet another step closer – close enough for Ian to swat them with his social distancing stick if he caught them.

Her brows pitched together in a frown, and he could imagine the snarl underneath her mask. “Stop looking at me like that!”

It was Shayne’s turn to look at Courtney incredulously – because if he was looking at her any one way, she was looking at him with twice the intensity of whatever the expression was. She was projecting. But Shayne lacked the articulation to point that out. Under her sharp, accusatory gaze, all he could stutter out was, “W-what? Looking at you like what?”

“Like you wanna…” Courtney trailed off. Her piercing green eyes flitted from his own and down to the mask, then up again.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Courtney groaned, and all the suspicion slinked out of her gaze. In its place was just that look directed back and forth between his eyes and his facemask.

The drone of chatter and activity around the corner faded out as it began to dawn on Shayne how close they were. In place of all the hubbub, the only thing Shayne could hear was their breathing – heavy, restrained, waiting.

Courtney’s hand landed on Shayne’s chest. She thumbed the fabric as her hand slid up and stopped just by his neck. Her sunflower mask shifted once more – Shayne could imagine her soft lips parted, considering her next few words.

While Shayne didn’t want to rush her, he was also drawn to her touch like a moth to a flame. There were just inches between them when his hand found its place on Courtney’s hip. His thumb drew idle patterns against her skin in the gap between her clothes. It prompted Courtney to tilt her head ever so slightly – like she’d gulped down the previous words she settled on.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for like months.”

The implication was clear as day when Courtney’s thumb brushed against his mask. But just the same, Shayne was afraid of jumping to –

“Can I kiss you?”

Shayne gulped.

The butterflies madly fluttering in his stomach were on overdrive. His brain was in the middle of blowing out a fuse as his neurons were fried. The request was just barely processed. That might have been why the nodding of his head didn’t match his answer of, “Is this allowed?”

Courtney’s fingers eased her handkerchief down to settle by her neck.

One would have thought it would be impossible to be this stunned and tongue-tied over seeing a cute lady’s face up close. Whoever thought so had clearly never met Courtney. That gorgeous, coy smile would be the end of Shayne.

Her pearly whites peeked free as she grinned and responded, “Probably not.”

Every fiber of his being was on board, save for his mind. His mind was too busy being chickenshit and prompting him to say things like, “Ian probably wouldn’t approve.”

Rather than dissuading Courtney, it appeared to goad her on. Shayne did absolutely nothing to stop Courtney from gently tugging down on his mask. Her momentum was then broken when she came face to face with his Gus Johnson mustache.

Courtney – now temporarily unmasked – wore her grimace plain as day.

It earned a sharp chuckle from Shayne. “Having second thoughts?”

Still cringing, Courtney muttered, “Some, yeah.”

Despite the lightheartedness in Courtney’s tone, Shayne still felt the need to offer her the chance to bail out. “Y’know, Court – if you don’t wanna-”

“Shayne,” Courtney cut him off. Her hand eased up to cup his face, fingertips brushing along the pink indentation his mask left. The contact drew a wave of tingles across his skin.

“Yeah?”

Courtney bit her lip for just a moment – a movement that Shayne watched far too closely. “Stamp buddies?”

A soft huff of laughter slipped out as Shayne nodded. It would be fine. They were literally just tested. “Stamp buddies.”

And just to be annoying, Shayne reiterated, “This is still probably breaking the rules though.”

Instead of the expected eyeroll, Courtney simply smiled all the more with that signature twinkle of mischief. Her face drew ever closer to his own as she whispered her agreement, “Yeah, probably.”

“Ooh, rulebreaker,” Shayne was sputtering goofs out to cover up his nerves at this point, even as their noses brushed together. Courtney’s breath fanning his face was enough to make his knees weak as he muttered, “I’ve always wanted to kiss a bad girl.”

The corner of Courtney’s lips gave a playful quirk as she paused barely centimeters from his own. “Lucky you.”

It was the last thing Shayne heard before their lips met and all he could sense was Courtney. The scent of vanilla hanging in the air around her. The taste of her pinacolada lip balm. The feeling of her fingers caressing his face and just how supple her lips felt against his own. Shayne couldn’t help himself – he sneaked a half-lidded peek, to confirm that this was all real and not an elaborate daydream. The soft, contented look on Courtney’s face was enough.

As Courtney pressed the rest of her body against his own, the wave of butterflies in his stomach intensified before abruptly settling down. A certain calmness filled him down to the bones. He was weightless. All the damn loneliness and anxiety over the past few months felt so small and inconsequential. All of Shayne’s worries were swept away with a brush of her lips. Courtney’s effect on him was supernatural.

The world around him could have fully surrendered to 2020 and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Chapter Text

Courtney’s eyes fluttered open as the morning sun began peeking in through her curtains. The ethereal glow that lit up her bedroom was mesmerizing. However, the soft mattress beneath her was just as mesmerizing.

It was too early for this shit.

Courtney shut her eyes and tugged on her blanket, grunting once in irritation when it caught on something. After the second yank, she successfully cocooned herself – her very much bare and naked self, she belatedly realized.

Even as half her brain began to shut down and return to slumber, Courtney couldn’t help but find it strange. She couldn’t remember the last time she shed all her clothing before bed. There were a few scattered memories here and there – but what prevailed was what she occasionally joked about with past boyfriends: that there was no way she’d sleep naked if she could help it. What if someone broke in? She didn’t need her cheeks clapping in the wind as she tried to pepper spray the guy.

Courtney blew out a quiet sigh as she dashed the trail of thought away. Maybe it was particularly hot last night. Maybe she stripped down to her birthday suit in the effort to cool down.

Yeah, that made sense.

Courtney turned in the effort to get comfortable and fall back asleep. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her in the effort to keep warm.

Wait – warm?

Courtney frowned in her half-conscious haze. If it was so hot last night, then why was she all bundled up now? She liked being cozy as much as the next gal, but this didn’t add up. What little part of her face that was exposed and unblanketed wasn’t particularly warm either. It was a cool morning all in all.

Courtney opened her eyes once more, intent on getting to the bottom of her clothes-less mystery.

Shayne Topp’s face was inches from her own and looking like the very image of relaxation.

Courtney blinked and waited for the mirage to vanish.

Shayne snored ever so softly.

Slowly, Courtney sat up, pulling the blanket with her to give herself a smidge of modesty. The fabric glided along the bed and exposed Shayne’s chiseled torso. It dawned on Courtney that Shayne was probably just as naked as she was underneath the blanket. Her cheeks grew warm as she stared at Shayne, who was still blissfully unaware.

A thought then crossed her mind – perfectly mundane and detached.

Courtney hoped that Shayne had slept well.

And as that thought scurried about her brain, firing up her neurons, Courtney finally, well and truly woke up.

“But you’re lucky.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my favorite pizza place.”

Warmth flooded Courtney’s chest as last night’s revelations came rushing back in.

“I think I love you, Court.”

Courtney bit her lip as she gazed at Shayne. His one arm was extended slightly toward her, like he’d had an arm around her before she’d woken up. The other was tucked underneath his pillow – her pillow? It was his pillow now.

“I love you too.”

The words felt so strange and unfamiliar in her mouth. It was stranger still to hear her own voice saying them out loud. After she’d gone over a year without saying it to anyone who wasn’t family.

But at the same time, that wasn’t entirely true. That admission had been caught in the back of her throat for some time now.

Courtney shifted slowly in the effort to avoid waking Shayne. She leaned on her headboard as she admired him.

There were countless times the past few months – whether in the dead of night or the crack of dawn, but almost always in the sanctity and silence of her living room – she’d been tempted to say it. It was such a natural thing to say. It was as easy as breathing to let the confession slip out. With Shayne’s strong, dependable arms around her, all the walls were down. It was a miracle she hadn’t spilled the beans much earlier on, really.

Courtney smiled to herself as she watched the rise and fall of Shayne’s chest. The rays of light peering into her bedroom were illuminating Shayne’s messy bed hair. His dirty blonde hair looked much brighter in this lighting. If she were still half asleep, she might have mistaken him for an angel of some sort.

She glanced at Shayne’s muscular physique.

Or maybe he was a real-life Greek hero of old’s statue-turned-human. He certainly looked the part.

Courtney’s hand moved on its own accord, gravitating towards his face. The same handsome face she’d cupped with that same hand. All while their voices grew hot and breathy, and the only words they’d managed out were each other’s names, or the occasional fuck.

She retracted her hand then as she bit her lip. Her previously pink cheeks were now redder than pepperoni on a damn pizza.

As Courtney’s hand returned to her side, the blanket shifted and eased down. She was quick to cover herself up, even if it felt a little pointless. Shayne had seen every inch of her skin and kissed just about the same amount. There was nothing she had to hide from him at this point.

The heat that was spreading through her body was going to be counterproductive. If she kept staring at Shayne and thinking about the steamy night prior, she may explode.

Or sit on Shayne to see how he’d react.

Courtney turned around before she could put her bright idea to use.

Shayne was usually first to wake between the two of them. He was an early bird like that. Courtney took some pride in tiring Shayne out enough to sleep in. She wore her mischievous smile as she pulled on her discarded underwear. Her shirt was nowhere to be found – probably somewhere in the living room – so she settled for the next best thing.

Courtney scooped up Shayne’s discarded shirt from the floor. Unable to help herself, she pressed the bundle to her face and took in his scent. It was the most comforting damn thing imaginable. The contented hum she let out was thankfully unheard. Before Shayne could wake up and witness her being a weirdo, Courtney pulled the pink shirt up and over her head. The oversized shirt fell to just above her mid-thigh.

The scavenged clothing from last night would have to do until they figured out what to do with their lives. A glance at her phone revealed that Ian hadn’t messaged yet. Shayne might have gotten a text, but she wasn’t about to go snooping. Besides, it was still fairly early. Ian was probably still waking up and caffeinating. They surely had time to shower and ready themselves before meeting up for breakfast.

The mental image of a half-conscious Ian preparing My Favorite Coffee spurred Courtney on to do the same. She could spare Shayne from her Keurig to avoid his nagging.

Courtney moved around her kitchen on autopilot and what she realized was a spring in her step. Most mornings, even with Shayne around, she’d be dragging her feet, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes, and clumsily bumping her hip into every other corner. Now, she was ready to bounce off the goddamn walls with giddiness. And she hadn’t even taken her first sip of coffee yet.

She was happy. No, happy didn’t begin to capture what she felt. She was ecstatic. Fuck – she was in love and the person she loved finally knew it! No more trying not to accidentally declare her love for him. No more beating around the bush and dancing around the stupid line in the sand they drew. If that wasn’t reason to celebrate, she didn’t know what was.

Of course, there were the implications and consequences of it all.

One step at a time and all that. Like she’d told Shayne last night, they would figure it out. Together. Starting with Ian.

Courtney stepped into her bedroom with two mugs of coffee in her hands. Apparently, she arrived right on time. Shayne was in the process of stirring and waking. His eyes opened slowly as he rolled onto his back and stretched out. Courtney watched him from her spot leaning on the doorway.

It was a sight she could get used to seeing every day. The prospect was exhilarating, if not just a little bit frightening. Yet the fear was banished nearly instantaneously when Shayne craned his head to look at her. The gears turned in his head so slowly that Courtney could nearly hear how badly they needed to be greased and cleaned.

Finally, he gave Courtney a lopsided smile that she was tempted to wipe off with her lips.

“Heya, Court.”

Courtney only realized how widely she was grinning when she responded, “Hey.”

“I like your shirt,” Shayne appeared to study it from afar with great interest. His hand came up to rub an imaginary goatee. “Good, soft fabric. Choice shade of pink. Where’d you get it?”

Courtney rolled her eyes as she approached her bed – their bed? She liked the sound of that.

“I took it off some loser last night,” Courtney shrugged in dismissal and took a seat by her side of the bed, “He didn’t put up much of a fight.”

Slowly, still shaking the drowsiness off, Shayne sat up and shifted to face her. He took care to keep the blanket bunched up over his lower half. Courtney didn’t miss the way he was eyeing the mug of coffee – or the way he was eyeing her in between glances.

“Well, that loser had some pretty good taste in shirts.” Shayne kept up the act with an air of nonchalance. He motioned towards his shirtless self and asked, “Mind if I try that on? I think it’s in my size.”

Courtney clutched the mugs of coffee towards her chest. She fought to keep a straight face as she defensively retorted, “No! Get your own shirt! You just wanna see my titties!”

Shayne’s brows nearly met his hairline as his jaw dropped. He looked away as he broke into a short, sharp laugh, “Jesus Christ.”

His cheeks had turned a hot pink, enough to rival his shirt – her shirt? Her shirt.

Courtney’s playful grin grew wider the redder Shayne got. If he could stop being so fucking adorable for one second, that would be great. He was pointedly avoiding her gaze, shaking his head as he tried to regain composure.

The coffee mug was extended as an olive branch, which Shayne gladly took. Their mugs clinked together – not the wisest decision over her sheets, but habits were habits. The comfortable silence settled between them for a moment as they sipped from their hot mugs.

It was almost juvenile the way they stole glances from one another between sips. There was the slightest trepidation that hung in the air as the weight of it all settled between them. It wasn’t awkward. That was something Courtney was grateful for. Things never got awkward between them. But just the same, there was no avoiding the elephant in the room.

Shayne held the mug on his lap as he shifted to face her. Courtney mimicked the motion, lowering the mug and scooting over a little to face him better. It was good to talk about things. Communication was key and all that. Talking and hashing things out would –

“I love you.”

Courtney felt the wind leave her. She looked away for a beat – because if she didn’t, she may just pounce on him and spill their coffee. She wasn’t in the mood to stain their sheets. Not with coffee, anyway.

Shayne’s adoring blue eyes were watching her as she got her act back together. It was difficult resisting the gravity-like pull they had on her.

It made Courtney feel absolutely weightless to be able to easily reply, “I love you too.”

And just to keep from being too mushy, she commented, “You just really went swinging, huh? Dropping the L-bomb right outta the gate?”

One of Shayne’s shoulders bobbed with a casual shrug as he smiled, “It feels nice to say.”

“Yeah,” Courtney admitted, “It does.”

“I just wanted to…” Shayne trailed off for a second, looking as though he was carefully picking his words, “I want you to know like, I mean it, you know?”

Courtney knew of Shayne’s troublesome history with love. Of his worst heartbreak, and of the smaller ones that followed, years before he first perked her gloomy day up by happily eating Macrogurt. If it had been scary and difficult to put herself out there, she could only imagine how Shayne had felt admitting his feelings. If Shayne needed some reassurance, then Courtney would give as much as he needed.

She gently took hold of Shayne’s mug, and set both their drinks down on her bedside table. With just the slightest hesitation, Courtney reached for Shayne. She was happy to find him to be more than receptive.

Shayne wrapped an arm around Courtney as she snuggled into his side. Her lips pressed a tender kiss to his cheek and her hand settled on his sturdy chest. She drew gentle, unseen patterns against his skin as she said, “I never doubted you for a sec, babe.”

It appeared that was enough for Shayne. He let out the slightest sigh of relief and gave her a peck right back on the temple. It was easy like that. Courtney could never express how profoundly grateful she was that things with Shayne were never complicated. It was always simple, even before last night.

No kissing on the lips. No beds. No storing stuff in each other’s places. No talking about what they were. No being physical or sweet in front of their friends.

Now?

Well, they kissed. They did things far less chaste and wholesome than kissing.

And that led to them crashing on her bed – or their bed for the first time last night.

She would be damned if Shayne still insisted on not keeping a little drawer of clothes and essentials when staying over.

There was no more taboo behind discussing their relationship either. Not after they finally crossed the line and did away with the last platonic bits of their relationship.

Their friends were another story though.

“Hey, Shayne?” Courtney craned her head up to look at the man in question.

She was transfixed by those damn deep blue eyes as he hummed, “Hm?”

“Are we, like…” Courtney tilted her head slightly. “Going public?”

Shayne pursed his lips for a second and shrugged, “Do you wanna go public?”

If they were any random two shmucks, it would be easy to just go ahead and say yes – fuck, they could scream it from a mountaintop without any shits given. But unfortunately, they were two shmucks that were relatively internet famous. They adhered to a different set of rules.

“Ian would know what to do,” Courtney offered.

“Goes without saying there’s no point hiding from the squad, right?” Shayne raised his assumption, which Courtney was quick to affirm.

“Right.”

“Well… Ian would probably throw the question back to us, wouldn’t he? He’s not Defy.”

Courtney nodded. “I don’t want to hide us, Shayne. This,” She gestured to the nonexistent space between them, “We shouldn’t be kept a secret.”

“Okay, so we tell Ian about us, then let’s see how he figures we should go about making it official,” Shayne waited for Courtney’s hum of affirmation before thinking aloud, “We could just like, take a selfie right now and post that on our stories, but-”

“No, Shayne,” Courtney shook her head even as she cringed, “We are not doing that.”

“And that’s why it’ll be good to get Ian’s input.” After a beat, Shayne’s smile took a sly edge to it. “Would be funny though.”

Courtney’s inner agent of chaos was awakened by the notion. Stirring the hornet’s nest of shippers sounded like a great way to start the day. They were going to, as Shayne had once said, start peeing themselves when they found out.

“What do you have in mind?” Courtney raised a hand to pause him, “And no, we’re not posting an after-sex selfie.”

Shayne’s shit-eating grin was up in full force as he told her, “Stick your leg out.”

“What? Why?” Courtney’s brows pitched in confusion. Just the same, she untucked her legs from beneath her and stretched out.

Taking care to keep his decency intact, Shayne exposed his leg from underneath the blanket, lining it up next to hers. Without caring to explain his scheme to Courtney, Shayne grabbed his phone and switched to the camera.

“Dude, what is the bit here?” Courtney asked again.

Shayne clamped down on his lips in concentration, framing the shot as if he were a master photographer. Once he was satisfied, he snapped the picture and showed it to Courtney.

It was as expected. Shayne’s meatier, hairier, and more muscular right leg was next to Courtney’s smooth, toned, and recently shaved left leg. The bundled-up blanket between them gave the illusion that perhaps the legs belonged to one person. Of course, that was disregarding the fact that the left leg was to the right of the right leg.

“Caption,” Shayne explained, “Hey y’all, just shaved one leg. How does it look?”

Courtney’s mouth hung open for a beat as all she could muster was, “You’re insane.”

Shayne sputtered out into a loud belly laugh that was so quintessentially Shayne. He began to double over, far too amused by his own strange sense of humor. Even as Courtney judged the idea, she started to laugh alongside him, smacking him once on the arm for good measure.

“This is gonna confuse Wikifeet for sure,” Shayne managed to let out in between laughs, earning him a pinch in the bicep.

Once the laughter subsided, Courtney retrieved their mugs. Shayne typed away on his phone, preparing the draft on Instagram. As if reading her earlier thought, Shayne mused, “This is gonna stir the shipper’s nest.”

“Man, forget stirring it. You’re about to like,” Courtney lazily swung her leg, “Kick the whole nest open.”

Shayne’s mischievous smile grew wider at the idea. He finalized the post with a few more taps on the screen. Shayne accepted the mug with a shrug. “Well, let’s hope nobody goes into cardiac arrest from sheer joy.”

“Here’s to hoping.” Courtney clinked their mugs together once more, only to watch Shayne’s thumb hover over the screen.

Shayne had a more reserved smile on now as he asked her, “Are you sure we’re doing this?”

“It was your idea,” Courtney was quick to shoot back.

“I know,” Shayne gave a soft chuckle, “But I won’t post it if you don’t want me to.”

There was no harm in kicking the hornet’s – or rather shipper’s – nest. Shayne was renowned as the local shitposter aside from the likes of Tommy. Whereas the latter’s meme game was on point, Shayne’s brand of meme-ing was far more obscure and absurd. This was right up his alley. And besides, they mutually agreed to go public. Ian would help them put together some kind of formal announcement soon.

Courtney plopped her leg atop his and gently brushed against his skin. With her best reassuring smile, Courtney told him, “Post it, babe.”

There was another soft laugh as Shayne nodded. “Okay.”

The familiar exchange had Courtney’s insides blossom with warmth and a tinge of nostalgia. “Okay?”

Shayne caught on just as quickly. He pursed his lips for a beat, making a show of considering his reply. After an unnecessarily dramatic pause, Shayne conceded. “Okay.”

Courtney rolled her eyes as Shayne tapped the screen and sealed their internet-fates.

“Well, I’m not sticking around to see my notifications blow up,” Shayne casually set his phone to silent.

It earned a sharp laugh from Courtney before it dawned on her. “Wait – did you tag me?”

Shayne downplayed his answer, tilting his head like it was no big deal. “Well. Tagging is a strong word.”

“Shayne!” Courtney laughed as she grabbed him by the arm, “Did you tag me?”

“Yes?”

Courtney shook her head. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words were forming. Instead, she grabbed her phone and set it to silent as well.

“Hey, you said it was okay-”

“Shayne, we’re not even kicking the shipper’s nest anymore,” Courtney couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she chided him, “We’re fucking swinging at it with a baseball bat!”

The cringe that Shayne wore sent Courtney into a fit of giggles. “Oh my God, Shayne! What did you do?!”

Still wincing, Shayne peeked at his phone. He just as quickly turned the screen off and put it down. “Okay, how do I say this?”

“What?” Courtney asked in between giggles.

“I’ve never had this many likes or comments, this quickly.”

Her curiosity was piqued. Courtney unlocked her phone and found her Instagram notifications already in the dozens. But aside from that was a message from Olivia.

Courtney snorted out a laugh as she relayed, “I got a message from Liv,” Taking a breath to steel herself, she read aloud, “Court, is that your leg in Shayne’s post? I know that foot anywhere.”

Shayne burst out laughing, doubling over and pressing a hand to his midsection. In between breathless laughs, he managed out, “I like how,” Another laugh, “I like how she could tell it was you not because I tagged you but-”

“But because of my foot,” Courtney completed the thought as she cringed, pressing her knuckles to her eyes.

As Shayne slowly but surely recovered from his laughing fit, he checked his phone once more. Still winded from his laughing, Shayne announced, “Damien just sent me like, a shit ton of those side-eye emojis.”

Again, Courtney could only ask, “What did you do, Shayne?”

“I launched a fucking tactical nuke at our fanbase.” He barely got the sentence out before bursting out into laughter once more.

Shayne had grown red from laughter. Courtney was a similar shade now, but it was more out of embarrassment. When she first agreed to the post, there was the element of mystery to it – because it could be anybody’s leg that Shayne had with him. It could be a mystery woman’s or even just be edited in. The tag removed all shred of doubt and straight up outed them.

Courtney shook her head fondly as she watched Shayne clutching his side – now in actual pain from laughing too hard like the little shit he was.

It was a bit much, but it was okay. No harm done with the accidental tag. No point removing it now either. For sure there were already a dozen Shartney fan accounts that had screencapped the tag. All that was left to do was roll with it and consult with Ian.

Right on cue, Shayne presented his phone to Courtney. On the screen were his messages with Ian. A smile wormed its way to her face when she saw that their previous exchange had been last night – when Ian had told them to behave, and they responded by sending their pictures with the cupcakes.

Ian: So, I take it you guys did NOT behave?

They exchanged looks. Shayne appeared to be looking for help, but Courtney was having none of that. Let the boy deal with the consequences of premature tagging. She sipped from her mug and averted her eyes.

With a shrug and a grin he couldn’t wipe off, Shayne narrated his message as he typed it, “Something like that. Wanna get breakfast?”

Relenting just a fraction, Courtney leaned her shoulder against Shayne’s to peer at his phone. Ian’s reply came in swiftly.

Ian: I’ll pick you up in an hour.

“Well, that settles that,” Shayne mused as he typed a reply in affirmation.

“We should start getting ready then.” With a playful smirk, Courtney added. “Shower?”

“Probably should.” Shayne’s reply was decidedly tame and bereft of excitement. It occurred to Courtney that he failed to pick up on her implication. “I think I got some spare clothes in my car.”

“I could give you a hand in there if you like,” Courtney bit her lip as she looked Shayne in the eye, leaving no room for miscommunication.

Shayne’s eyebrows raised, and he let out a soft laugh as it sunk in. With a lick of his lips, Shayne nodded. “Sounds fun.”

Alas, Courtney could never resist throwing a jab his way. “I bet those frog arms can’t reach your back.”

“Hey!” Shayne protested and did his best to frown at her, biting back his grin as he did. “I’ll have you know I can wash my back just fine.”

The doubt was plain on Courtney’s face. “Really? Without like, a loofah on a stick or something?”

Shayne’s eyes darting away for a split second was all Courtney needed. She laughed at his expense as he put on a show of pouting. Courtney figured she could ease up on him just a smidge. She set their now empty mugs to the side and wrapped herself around his arm. She pressed her lips to his shoulder. “You’re lucky your frog arms are hot.”

It elicited a quiet laugh from Shayne. He turned to look at Courtney, eyes running all over her face and settling on her lips more than once.

Message received.

Courtney began to tilt her head to the side as she parted her lips.

“Wait,” Shayne’s voice was surprisingly sheepish, “I have morning breath.”

Courtney rolled her eyes and retorted, “I have morning, coffee breath too.”

“Fair enough.”

Their lips met before Shayne could find another reason to be needlessly shy with her. His lips felt as enticing as Courtney remembered, if not just a tad bitter from their morning coffee. But she paid that no mind. Her lips tingled as they danced against his own, and her heart was quickening in pace. That familiar heat was already spreading out from her core and throughout her entire body.

Shayne’s hand found her side, easing down to rest by her hip. The muffled hum he let out told Courtney he was surprised to feel her skin, which now prickled with goosebumps. His thumb began to explore. It slid across her tingling skin one moment, and then glided over the thin fabric of her underwear the next.

Courtney bit down gently on his lip in response, earning a soft grunt that only encouraged her. If this kept up, they would be late for breakfast with Ian.

It took more willpower than she would like to admit to pull back. More breathless than expected, Courtney asked again, “Shower?”

“Yeah,” Shayne nodded with a dreamy lilt to his voice, “Let’s.”

Courtney stole a quick peck on Shayne’s lips before hopping out of bed. She was halfway out the door when she glanced behind her. Shayne was still in bed, head swiveling this way and that.

“C’mon, Shayne! We don’t got all day!”

Shayne continued to look around the room and poke at the bedsheets. With a sigh, he admitted, “Babe, I – uh, I can’t find my boxers.”

Courtney blinked once.

She found no course of action but to deadpan, “Shayne, you’ve been inside me. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Get your naked butt over here.”

Shayne put his pink face into his hands, and Courtney just barely heard the muttered, “Oh my God.”

There was another wave of affection that washed over her. Over just how endearing it was that, after everything last night, he still managed to be shy with her. If it was a quirk that they’d slowly whittle away, then Courtney had no qualms with that. She could respect Shayne’s boundaries. She loved him more than enough to do something as simple as that.

More gently this time, Courtney spoke up, “I’ll get the water going. Just hop in when you’re ready, okay?”

The appreciative smile Shayne wore was enough to melt her heart. “Thanks, Court. Be there in a sec.”

Courtney hovered by the doorway for a second or two longer, admiring the sight of Shayne sitting in bed, wrapped up in their blanket.

“I love you.” The words slipped out of their own accord.

Shayne ducked his head for a beat, as if hiding just how widely he smiled when she said those three little words. He brought his head back up to look at her as he replied, “I love you too.”

Before she could ogle him any longer, Courtney made for the bathroom. She turned the shower on and began stripping what little clothing she had left on with little ceremony. Once the water was passably warm, Courtney stepped in.

The refreshing spray seeped into her hair and trickled down her face and to her body. It felt oddly… right. Like the water was washing everything away. It gave way to a new, fresh start with Shayne. This was uncharted ground that they would be exploring together. It’s not like they were the first YouTube stars to become a couple. But it was a first for Smosh, and it was definitely a first for them.

There really was no telling how it would go. That should have been scary – hell, that prospect had scared the shit out of her in the past. With Shayne it was more thrilling. Her feelings for him ran far deeper than she thought possible, but she’d since come to terms with it. The feeling was mutual anyway. That was all Courtney needed to gather the courage to face this uncertainty.

They had each other. Figuring things out one day at a time would be a walk in the park as long as they stuck by one another.

On cue, the glass shower door slid open. Courtney granted Shayne his last seconds of privacy as she wiped the water from her eyes. She turned and found him running a hand through his hair in a nervous manner.

His hair was still standing at odd angles; a good indicator of how well he slept. He kept a neutral look on his handsome features as he allowed Courtney to take his appearance in. Head to toe, Courtney was winded looking at him. Sculpted like a goddamn Greek God, Shayne was all hers. She’d felt breathless gazing at him last night, and again now. She had an inkling that the feeling wouldn’t go away any time soon.

Courtney refrained from pouncing on him and cracking both their heads open on the tiles. Instead, she extended her hand forward.

With a small smile, Shayne took her hand and was reeled in to join Courtney under the warm spray. Her arms soon found their way around Shayne’s neck, just as his hands settled by her hips. Courtney tightened her gaze at Shayne when he gave her a cheeky squeeze.

At the same time, Courtney was silently grateful for the little squeeze. This – all of this – it was perfect. She’d half expected to be woken up in that moment to find herself alone in bed. She was living the goddamn dream and was on top of the world. It didn’t get any better than this.

Shayne pressed his forehead to hers, ocean eyes peering at her. His alluring smile was pulling her in. She hardly noticed at what point she’d completely pressed her body against his. The contact sent a tingle down her spine. She could shiver, if not for the warmth of the steamy shower.

As Shayne tilted his head to meet her lips, all Courtney could think of was how lucky she was. Of how perfect it all was. Not everybody was fortunate enough to be loved by Shayne Topp. Yet here they were now, locking lips in her steamy bathroom.

Courtney smiled into the kiss.

Their bathroom?

Courtney liked the sound of that.

Chapter Text

Corporal Shayne Topp tugged on the bulletproof vest snugly strapped onto his person. He craned his neck this way and that – anything to grant himself a little comfort as the sweltering Afghan summer cooked him alive. His sweat-stained uniform clung to his skin, and he knew he was going to wake up with a new rash tomorrow. As Shayne then pulled at his neckline, he felt the tiniest bit of relief as the tiniest rush of air found its way in, separating skin from fabric for just a moment. The relief left as quickly as it came when he released his shirt.

Shayne was tempted to tug his helmet off and splash his head with water from his canteen. Lord knows he wasn’t the only one thinking it – shit, some of the boys were already on it. They only stopped when barked at by Sergeant Fitts, their squad sergeant. With a grunt, Shayne merely fidgeted with the helmet – enough that the chinstrap wasn’t digging in too deep.

The last thing he needed was to get his brains splattered onto the nearest wall.

Here lies Cpl. Shayne Robert Topp – he died because he took his helmet off in a hostile town.

Nicole would find some way to bring him back to life just so she could tell him off and kick his ass for being so careless.

The thought put a macabre smile on Shayne’s face, and gave him a good reason not to buckle just yet under the blistering sun. Shayne crossed his arms instead, leaning them on the buttstock of the trusty rifle slung over his body.

The weapon had saved his life on so many occasions in his three years in the service. There were already a dozen rhymes and songs – this is my rifle, and this is my gun – that explored the relationship between a Marine and his weapon. Shayne had no need to add to that. He could already hear both Nicole’s groaning and Lizzy’s joy at his pathetic attempt at singing.

That being said, Shayne was itching for his chance for an upgrade. While Shayne would sing the M4A1’s praises until his demise, he had aspirations for the future. Long-ranged and high caliber aspirations at that.

A resounding, distant bang filled the air, coupled with the supersonic hiss of a bullet breaking the sound barrier.

The privates and other greenhorns in the squad ducked. Several dived straight to the ground or into the nearest ditch. They clutched their helmets to keep them in place, and their rifles began scanning their surroundings. Expletives cut through the previously silent street.

“Fuck! Fuck! Contact!”

“Where the fuck did that come from?!”

“Jesus – shit! Was that one of ours?!”

Shayne continued to stand tall and proud as a grin began to spread across his features – completely unfazed by the single bullet that passed far overhead.

There was a saying that was often parroted in the service – a bang and a hiss mean the shot was relatively close. But a snap means you’re being shot at.

Shayne turned his head back, towards one of the taller buildings at the outskirts of town. He looked to the window on the highest floor, where the curtains were parted ever so slightly. With a wide grin, Shayne raised a thumb up for the sniper and spotter duo to see.

Scout Snipers worked in pairs. One man was kitted out with a rifle, and top of the line range-finding gear that went beyond simple binoculars. That spotter was responsible for calling out targets and assisting his partner if things got hairy. The sniper was the actual shooter, whose job went far beyond simple trigger pulling. The number of calculations and adjustments that went into long-range shooting were immeasurable. It also took an endless well of patience to be able to lie still for hours, crosshairs scanning one window or corner after another.

On cue, Shayne’s radio crackled in response with their sniper’s gruff voice, “Gerbil, wipe that goddamn smile off your face.”

Shayne snorted at the sound of his own callsign – something he was still getting used to, even two years after it had been assigned to him. Standard radio protocol was to avoid using actual names for security purposes. Shayne grabbed his radio to respond, only for another voice to beat him to it.

The low baritone of Major Ray Schoonover filled the net. “Are you surprised? Kid’s got a hard-on for you snipers.”

Shayne felt the heat rush to his face. He pressed the receiver to his forehead for a moment as he laughed under his breath. The major usually wasn’t on this frequency. Officers like him had larger things to worry about than the local platoon chatter. There must have been a lull in the action back in the tactical operations center or TOC.

And the major wasn’t wrong. It was one of Shayne’s dreams to become a Scout Sniper with Force Recon – the Marines’ most esteemed and deadly sharpshooters. He and Billy planned on signing up for training after getting more experience out in the field. It was often said the best sharpshooters were the ones that knew how to be a grunt in the frontlines. They understood friendly and hostile movements and positions better than anyone.

After regaining his composure, Shayne pushed down on the receiver, a shit-eating grin on his face, “Bishop, I do think it’s inappropriate to talk about your subordinate’s boner, sir.”

The reply came back as sharp as a whip, “Shut the fuck up, Gerbil.”

Shayne could make out scattered laughter among those in his platoon tuned in to their frequency. He turned his head to those nearby now that they had recovered from the initial panic over the gunshot. The younger men were nudging one another as they stifled their laughter. Others were scandalized that a lowly corporal was poking fun at the highest-ranking officer in the whole province. Little did they know how far back he and the major went.

Putting the brief exchange behind them, Major Schoonover then asked, “Blackbird, Raven – report.”

Shayne decided to follow the major’s lead and get back to it. The heat had caused him to space out a little. It was high time he got his head back in the game. Straightening up, he began walking along the block they’d secured hours ago.

This town was festering with violent insurgents that terrorized the populace. The few government buildings here had been seized by the enemy and turned into strongholds. These included the town hall, a small hospital, and a public school. Anyone who tried to oppose the insurgents were quickly dealt with – violently and publicly. The small police force was already decimated in the initial takeover, leaving the civilians defenseless. It dissuaded any attempts of skipping town or forming a resistance of any sort.

Aside from making an example out of dissidents, one of the first things the insurgents did was lay IEDs – improvised explosive devices – all over the roads leading into town. There was word that there were IEDs in the town itself as well, but thankfully none had been set off so far.

It did, however, limit their fighting capabilities. Normally, they would have some vehicle backup. Maybe armored personnel carriers with heavy machineguns and anti-armor missiles. Or if they were lucky, they’d be backed up by an Abrams tank that could level buildings and turn insurgents into a fine pink mist. The large civilian presence in town, the mountainous terrain, and the abundance of roadside bombs ensured that there would be no such backup in this operation.

They’d been forced to insert by helicopter and begin retaking the town on foot. Shayne’s platoon was effectively leapfrogging into the small city. One squad would secure a block, the next squad would push up while the last held rear security, and so on. Right now, they were holding until it was time to regroup with the forward squad. Another platoon was mirroring their movements from the opposite side of town. They expected to hit the first enemy stronghold by the evening, when their night vision capabilities would give them a massive leg up over the enemy.

The radio crackled to life as Blackbird – Raven’s spotter – replied, “One tango down, sir. Target was on a balcony across Beaut’s team and carrying an RPG.”

There was a brief wave of static before Major Schoonover’s voice inquired, “Where’s the launcher now?”

“Still on the balcony, sir.” It was Raven who answered with his voice all gravel and sandpaper. “We’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah,” Blackbird chimed in, “Don’t want some fucker finishing the job.”

The major hummed over the net, before concluding with an air of finality, “Keep sharp out there, Raven.”

Raven hummed right back and affirmed, “Wilco, sir.”

Shayne considered gripping the radio to send a quip Billy’s way – some dumb joke about having his guardian angels watching over him. For the moment, he refrained. The steady but distant pop of gunfire from a block over was an indicator that Billy’s squad was keeping busy. They had better things to do than banter over the local radio channel.

Shayne’s boots pounded the cracked concrete road as he walked. Bullet holes pocked the walls on either side of the street, accompanied by the occasional blood splatter or scorch mark. Numerous Marines idly paced along their stretch of territory. Their eyes were sharp, even if their body language said otherwise. It was a yellow-alert sort of stage that everyone was in. No one in the squad had fired a shot for some time now that they’d secured this swath of town. But just the same, they watched windows, corners, doorways, anywhere a threat may emerge from.

They often joked that it was a specialty of the Marines on deployment – the ability to be alert yet simultaneously slacking off. One Marine was under an awning, softly snoring where he sat with his back to the wall. His rifle remained securely in his sleeping hands, with his finger on the trigger guard and the safety on. His companion stood close by under the same awning, ensuring the Marine’s catnap was going undisturbed.

To anybody glancing at the sight, it may seem alarming. Depending on who you ask, there would be outcry of different sorts. Some would berate the Marines for wasting taxpayer dollars by sleeping on the job. Others would blow a gasket seeing them risk life and limb by napping in hostile territory.

Anybody who’d actually been out in the shit would see otherwise.

The napping Marine was positioned far more strategically than it seemed. Directly in front of him was a beat-up pickup truck that had seen its fair share of bullets. To one side was a sturdy wall. In this part of the world, where tribes have historically been at each other’s throats for centuries, the value of a good, impenetrable wall was never amiss. No wall was sturdier than that built by the Afghans, whether in town or out in the countryside. Only heavy explosives could knock those down. And finally, to the Marine’s exposed side was his buddy, and another fireteam patrolling up and down the street.

Despite being a rank above the duo, Shayne felt no need to tell them off. The napping Marine may not have looked it, but he was in a state of semi-consciousness. He’d be awake and diving into a fighting position the moment a gunshot cracked out within the block. His conscious companion was sharp. A cigarette was poking out through the young private’s lips. With his left hand, he was struggling to get his lighter to cooperate. His right was gripping his rifle, prepared to shoulder and fire at a moment’s notice. His eyes were restlessly scanning all possible points that gunfire could begin pouring in from.

So instead, Shayne gave the private a curt nod and casually asked, “All good, Sanders?”

With his cigarette finally lit, Private Sanders pocketed the lighter. “It’s hot as balls, sir. When are we getting a move on?”

Shayne gave him a lopsided grin. “Orders are orders, private. It’s time to hurry up and wait.”

Private Sanders grimaced. “Oorah, sir.”

“But hopefully,” Shayne bobbed one shoulder with a shrug. “As soon as they get a foothold down the block, we’re gonna haul ass. Could be any minute now.”

“Ready whenever, sir.” The napping Marine mumbled out from underneath his lopsided helmet.

“That’s the spirit.”

It was another minute of walking down the quiet street until Shayne stopped in front of what was once a sizeable bakery. The steel shutters were pulled halfway up, having jammed while they raised them earlier. The little display counter was empty and abandoned long before bullets started flying. In place of the smell of freshly baked bread was the bitter bite of mold, dust, and general disuse.

Now, as unlikely as it may have seemed, they avoided bothering the local populace as much as they could. It was why they chose the shuttered bakery to setup a triage center. Shayne’s fireteam was pulling security around the small store, weapons pointed outward and scanning for threats. Within, chattering voices bounced off the grimy walls.

Private Hoyle’s bulky frame guarding the bakery should have been enough to dissuade any attackers. The man was built like a quarterback and was as well-read as a literary major. It was from Hoyle that Shayne got most of his hand-me-down books during deployment. He was Shayne’s second in command, and the team’s designated automatic rifleman – or more simply, the guy that had the honor of swinging around a light machinegun. Of course, light was a misnomer. The twenty-something pound rifle was a beast of a machine capable of spewing out hundreds of rounds a minute. Whenever Hoyle started spitting lead, Shayne was reminded of how glad he was the gunner was on their side. He sat by the bakery’s entrance, with his gun’s bipod deployed on the hood of a dilapidated car.

Covering Hoyle’s other side was Private Ruiz, the assistant automatic rifleman. If Hoyle looked like he could hurl a football dozens of yards away, Ruiz could probably sprint that distance in the blink of an eye. Lean and surprisingly strong, Ruiz filled his pack heavier than anyone. Be it a spare mag of ammo or an extra canteen of water, Ruiz was ready to provide. Similar to Hoyle, he had his rifle posted up over the car’s trunk and was watching the windows across the street. Ruiz’s heavy backpack, today laden with ammunition for Hoyle’s machinegun, was between the two men.

“All good, boys?” Shayne fondly thumped the men on their helmets as he stopped next to them.

“Just dandy, sir,” Was Hoyle’s simple reply.

Ruiz was less than pleased with their current position. “My ass is numb from sitting around all day, sir.”

Shayne set a hand on Ruiz’s back and put on a sickly-sweet voice, “You need daddy to kiss it to make it all better?”

The assistant gunner turned his grimace to Shayne, who went on unperturbed, “I’m puckering up, man. Lemme see that booty.”

Dripping with sarcasm, Ruiz responded, “You’re real hilarious, sir. It’s a shame you gave up comedy for this,” He gestured vaguely to the street around them, “Getting shot at and dealing with this dry heat – what is it? A hundred and five degrees?”

Hoyle shrugged like it was no big deal, “A hundred and fifteen.”

“Jesucristo,” Ruiz muttered before wiping his sweaty brow.

Shayne ignored the sweat dribbling down his own face as he smiled. “What can I say, bud. The world wasn’t ready for my brand of comedy.”

Hoyle took his eyes off the street to spare Shayne a doubtful glance, “Yeah, with your pizza store callin’ ass, I’m sure the world wasn’t ready, sir.”

“Hey,” Shayne wagged a finger, “It’s pizza place.”

Hoyle scoffed and Ruiz waved him off, leaving Shayne laughing softly as he turned away from the pair. He then peeked his head into the makeshift infirmary. Private Gunnerson – or simply Gunny – sat vigilant on the counter with his rifle on his lap. Despite his name, the redheaded, heavyset Marine was the fireteam’s scout. Someone as large as Gunny had no business walking so fast or sneaking so quietly. Yet he filled his role in the team better than anyone. His fluency in Pashto made him a hit with the locals as well. Gunny gave Shayne a sharp nod as he stepped in.

Several Afghans were gathered and chatting with the nonchalance of a Saturday brunch. They sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor and Shayne had to do a double take. The analogy he’d thought of was more accurate than he realized.

There was indeed some food that was being shared between the clusters of people that populated the bakery – including Gunny who had some nan bread in his right hand. Another glance at the civilians revealed some MRE staples were being split among them. Some cornbread here and some raspberry jam there, and even the occasional piece of beef jerky made it into the little late lunch session.

Those who weren’t eating were having their wounds and ailments checked. These ranged from a bloody gash caused by a nasty fall, to a bad case of the runs thanks to a contaminated water supply. Other civilians were here to support their wounded loved ones.

Towards the center of the room was Damien. He was crouched by his current patient, and his helmet was discarded to one side to let him work in peace. It revealed his closely cropped dark hair, the blue streaks having recently been dyed back to normal. He was busy working on a man that had been grazed in the side by a stray bullet.

The wound was in the process of being sutured. Having been shot a few times now, Shayne could tell the wound was a graze at worst – a deep one, but a graze nonetheless. Without looking up from his handiwork, Damien greeted him, “Hey, bud.”

“How’re we lookin’, Dames?”

Even as the words left Shayne’s mouth, it was easy to see things had gone smoothly so far. The smell of blood was decidedly absent from the old bakery. A few Marines had filed in and out of the small store to have minor grazes checked. Beyond that, their platoon was intact so far. The same could be said for the locals who had mostly dispersed by the time bullets began flying. God willing, it would stay that way.

“Soldier, do you have chocolate?”

Shayne blinked and looked down to find two bright brown eyes staring right back at him. The boy must have been six or seven. Only a few years older than Lizzy. He held Shayne’s gaze almost expectantly.

“Chocolate?” Shayne repeated.

“Ah – Shayne,” Damien flashed him a brief smile. “I see you’ve met our hungry friend, Malek.”

The man currently being stitched up then craned his head to look at Shayne. Through the discomfort, he managed a faint smile as he spoke. There were a few words in Pashto that were far beyond Shayne’s lexicon.

Luckily, Gunny was here. He wiped some crumbs from his mouth and chimed in with his thick southern drawl, “He says that’s his son, sir.”

The wounded man was nodding along, having made the deduction that Gunny was translating. There were another few words, which Gunny then promptly informed Shayne, “This fella here is Hadi, sir”

Shayne smiled. With a hand over his heart, he bowed his head in Hadi’s direction.

In spite of his painfully thick accent and poor pronunciation, Shayne greeted, “Salam alaikum, Hadi. Za Shayne Topp Yem.”

Hadi’s expression lit up. He turned to Gunny and spoke swiftly and with delight in his voice. Gunny cracked a short, sharp laugh, and relayed, “Well, Corporal, he’s surprised that I’m not the only cowboy who speaks the language.”

“Wait til he learns that’s as far as my Pashto goes.”

As Gunny translated the same to Hadi, Shayne’s attention was returned to the young boy before him. Malek was tugging on the sleeves of Shayne’s fatigues, standing close – close enough for the kid’s flipflops to bump into Shayne’s boots.

Hadi tsked at Malek, who then took a sheepish step back. The man turned his apologetic grimace to Shayne, wincing once as Damien continued his needlework undisturbed. Gunny translated with a chuckle, “He says you’ll have to excuse his boy, sir. He’s a real peckish kid.”

The grin wormed its way up to Shayne’s face before he even realized it. Lizzy was still toddling, but her appetite was just about ready to rival his own. There was something about kids with endless bellies that tickled Shayne’s funny bone. It was endearing in a way he couldn’t place. Growing kids and their growing appetites.

Shayne did the only logical next step and slung his weapon towards his side. Malek watched with interest as Shayne’s backpack hit the ground next. He scooted on over to curiously peer within as Shayne rifled through the bag’s contents.

It had been a busy day so far, so Shayne hadn’t gotten the chance to eat much more than his MRE’s entrée of cheese tortellini. That left the miscellaneous sides and snacks intact.

“Let’s see what we got in here,” Shayne muttered as he rummaged, “What kind of chocolate do you like, Malek?”

“Hmm,” The boy let out a long hum, shifting his weight back and forth as he pondered the very, very serious question. After a beat, he piped up, “Reese’s peanut butter cups!”

Shayne smiled and crossed his fingers as he searched. The MREs occasionally came with regular commercial chocolate – Hershey’s, Reese’s, M&Ms – and they were invaluable for barter in the Corps. They ranked about as high as jalapeno or bacon cheese spread. Some Marines would trade two entrées just for some chocolate to remind them of home. Probably not the wisest of decisions, but who was he to question it? The MRE trade was a thriving economy that could rival the stock market.

The drab khaki-colored packs of crackers and jerky were pushed aside until Shayne found what he was looking for.

Not exactly what he was looking for. It was almost a consolation prize, if anything. Malek’s watchful eyes followed the red Skittles wrapper that Shayne sheepishly extended.

“Sorry, Malek. This is all I got.”

Malek took the Skittles from Shayne’s much larger, gloved hand. He turned it over a few times, analyzing the packaging with hawklike eyes. After a scolding tut from his father, Malek beamed. His grin revealed a gap, indicative of a missing baby tooth.

Shayne could blink in that moment and be right back home with his family.

He wasn’t crouching over his pack in an abandoned bakery-turned-infirmary. He was home, unpacking groceries. In his helmet’s place was a baseball cap. Gone was the dust-caked uniform and plate-carrier vest. He was rocking a tie-dye shirt and some ripped, faded jeans. His cuffed boots were decidedly non-standard issue.

Nicole playfully bumped her hip against him as she made her way deeper into the kitchen. Her dark hair moved in alluring sways with each step she took. It filled him with the desire to tuck it behind her ear and kiss her. Lizzy smiled up at him like a flower in bloom, not a care in the world for her own missing baby teeth. Nothing could stop the spring in that girl’s step.

In his extended, ungloved hand wasn’t a weapon, or Skittles, but a pack of Oreos. Double stuffed. Otherwise, they don’t count. Such was the wisdom of Elizabeth Topp.

“Thanks, dad!”

And with another blink, Shayne was back where he started, hunched over his backpack in that same damned abandoned bakery-turned infirmary.

“Thank you, Topp Sahib.”

Shayne banished the homesick pang in his heart to offer Malek a friendly smile. The kid was busy inspecting the packaging. His lips parted slowly, and the foreign name trailed out experimentally, “Skittles.”

It was an easy guess that perhaps Skittles wasn’t a popular brand here. He didn’t blame the Afghans. There was nothing worse than reaching into a colorful bowl expecting M&Ms and finding Skittles.

“It’s candy. Different flavors, like fruit and stuff.”

As Malek hummed with consideration, Damien let out a quiet sigh. The corpsman gently pressed down on Hadi’s fresh wound dressings with an air of finality. He then straightened up and stood tall to reach for his trauma kit on the counter. After a moment of searching, Damien recovered some painkillers. Hadi propped himself up to lean against the wall, poking at his bandages experimentally.

Damien tore part of the blister pack and handed it over to his patient. “You’re all good, Hadi. Take these three times a day every six hours as needed.”

After some translation from Gunny, Hadi tilted his head and spoke with an inquisitive lilt to his voice.

“He’s askin’ about the stitches and when a doc’s supposed to take ‘em out.”

“Ah,” Damien waved in dismissal and smiled, “Those will dissolve in a couple of weeks on their own.”

As this was relayed, Hadi began to grin, now looking decidedly impressed. Malek then distracted Shayne from Hadi singing Damien’s praises in Pashto. The boy had finally opened the pack of Skittles after conducting his thorough inspection of the wrapper.

Malek chewed on the first piece and appeared to go through a myriad of emotions. He frowned gently as he tasted the candy and averted his eyes from Shayne – as if trying not to be impolite while figuring out whether he liked the candy or not.

Eventually, Malek reached one verdict or another and gave Shayne a tentative grin and a nod of the head. The boy extended the Skittles forward to share, which Shayne declined with a smile. If he got a little bit of sugar in his system now, then he’d be craving it for the next few hours. There was no telling how soon they needed to get back into the fray. Battling the enemy and a grumbling stomach was not a fun experience.

A bulb seemed to light up above Malek’s head just then. After popping a few more Skittles, he scampered over to his father. Hadi and Malek exchanged a few words now that the former was free. Damien and Gunny had moved on to their next patient as the corpsman strapped his helmet back on. He was speaking to a couple. A young man and a woman who looked heavily pregnant underneath her conservative garb.

Damien had been trained to stitch men back together under a torrential downpour of gunfire. Giving medical advice to pregnant women wasn’t his forte. But any corpsman deployed in Afghanistan for any stretch of time eventually learned that this was part of the job. Connecting with the populace and helping in any way they could – that was the real key to counterinsurgency.

Malek had taken the time to retrieve a small backpack, not unlike what a kid would bring to school. A small bundle wrapped in cheesecloth came free and piqued Shayne’s curiosity. Malek pulled two small limes out and reached over to hand them to Shayne. He beamed proudly all the while.

“…Thank you.” Shayne did his best to conceal his befuddlement as he accepted the limes. It was practically an insult around these parts to be unappreciative of a gift.

“Not for eating,” Malek shook his head before scrunching his nose up. “Many bad smells in the city. Break it and rub it here,” He gestured towards the tip of his nose and his lips. “It helps.”

It was surprisingly sound advice. Serving in a combat unit exposed Shayne to foul odors on a nearly daily basis. Sometimes there were decomposing bodies. Other times they had to walk by heaps of refuse and backed up sewage lines – an unfortunate side effect of the collapsing infrastructure and nearly non-existent government presence.

More experienced Marines like Sergeant Fitts would just grumble that you got used to it. After a while, all that shit stops bothering your senses. Shayne personally felt like he had a long way to go before he could block out the offensive smells. The limes would come in handy.

Shayne tucked the small citrus fruits into his breast pocket with great care.

It was at that moment Shayne realized Hadi was watching the exchange with a fond smile on his face. He beckoned his son over with a simple, “Malek.”

The boy took a seat to his father’s side and resumed working on the Skittles. As Hadi put an arm around the boy, he looked at Shayne, appearing to consider his words. After a pause, he asked, “Family?”

Shayne could pick up the rest of the unspoken question – do you have family? It must have been evident, since not all Marines knew how to deal with kids. Most of the young men barely knew how to get a girlfriend, let alone start a family.

He could also respect Hadi’s effort to communicate. Gunny was wrapped up translating with Damien and the couple. Malek clearly spoke more English than his father, a result of the generational gap and availability of education.

It was something that sent another little pang up to Shayne’s heart. A kid like Malek should have just gotten home from school at this hour in the early afternoon. Instead, the boy spent the better part of the day hiding with his father as gunshots peppered the streets.

One of the insurgent strongholds in town was a school. It displaced all the kids and younger folk that should be in school at this hour. The populace hadn’t known true normalcy in a long time now.

The growing frustration bubbled up to his chest. They were slated to raid the school the following evening. If everything went well, a more peaceful status quo could be ushered in. Maybe then Malek would be back where he belonged, with his head in the books and looking toward a brighter tomorrow. One void of gunshots and bloodshed.

Shayne heaved a sigh to calm his rising temper. He offered Hadi a friendly smile and finally nodded to answer his question.

“Yeah. I have a little girl back home.” Shayne spoke slowly and clearly. Hadi appeared to pick up the words, considering he smiled right back.

The advantage of the Corps’ uniform was all the pockets they had. Shayne tugged a folded photo free from one such pocket. He stood from where he’d been crouched to take a few steps towards Hadi and Malek. With a grunt, Shayne sat cross-legged and handed Hadi the photo.

It was taken just a week before his current deployment, right in front of Lizzy’s favorite carousel in Central Park. Shayne pointed to the gorgeous brunette in the sundress, who gazed lovingly at Shayne in the photo. With a homesick heart, Shayne said, “This is my wife, Nicole.”

His gloved fingertip then found the young girl, who put her entire soul into her smile. Not quite brunette, but too dark to be dirty blonde, his daughter’s hair looked bright for once under the summer sun. “This is my girl, Lizzy – or Elizabeth.”

Hadi and Malek admired the picture a moment longer. Hadi handled it with great care. No language barrier could prevent him from understanding just how much it meant to Shayne. Hadi was still smiling by the time he returned the photo to Shayne.

Summing it up quite aptly, Hadi remarked, “Beautiful.”

Shayne held the photo to his heart briefly as he bowed his head. “Manana, Hadi.”

The broken bits and pieces of Pashto that Shayne knew appeared entertaining to the two. Or at the very least, it encouraged them to keep talking. Hadi nudged his son as he spoke, and it prompted Malek to translate. He tilted his head slightly as he asked, “You miss them?”

Shayne’s eyes crinkled when he gave them a sad smile. During combat operations, when fighting extended well into the night, they often slept in shifts, camping out in abandoned houses. He would lie down on the rough flooring and use his backpack as a lumpy, makeshift pillow. When he closed his eyes and tried to drown out the gunfire, he could pretend to be back home.

That lumpy backpack was Nicole’s lap – or maybe her knee since his wife’s leg was a far more comfortable pillow. The heft of the rifle in his arms was Lizzy sprawled out on top of him. They weighed about the same when Lizzy was born. Though of course, Lizzy was nowhere near as pointy and cold as his M4A1.

When exhaustion set in, his little fantasy was easy to immerse himself in. As sleep’s languid tendrils would begin to pull him in, he could hear Nicole’s soft humming. It was hypnotic. The effect it had on him was supernatural. It could lull him to sleep in moments. Pair it with the ghostly sensation of Nicole’s gentle fingers stroking his hair, and the rise and fall of Lizzy’s sleeping body atop his torso – it was like he’d just passed out on the couch back home.

He could barely feel the harsh stone floor underneath him in those moments.

Finally, Shayne answered, “Always.”

It was times like this that Shayne wondered if he was cursed, or just unlucky. The peaceful moments such as this never lasted too long. Something always came, one way or another, to spoil the tranquility.

There was the sharp popping of gunfire the next block over. It was steady over the past few hours, but not particularly heavy. Now, it had just escalated to a mad flurry of automatic fire which caused all present to tense up. The idle chatter among the Afghans grew quiet. Damien and Gunny exchanged looks before turning to Shayne.

Shayne grabbed his radio to tune in. Before he could speak, it crackled to life. Competing voices overlapped as panic and urgency rose.

“Get down! Get down!”

“VBIED!”

“Bomb truck – get down! Get the fuck down!”

Shayne’s stomach dropped as an explosion rocked the ground and rattled the shutters. He was back on his feet and scooping his backpack into place almost automatically. Gunny hopped off the counter and was checking the chamber of his rifle, crossing the bakery in long strides.

“Dames-” Shayne didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I’ll ask the sarge to spare a fireteam for security here until we get back.” Damien’s trauma kit was securely strapped to his person, and his rifle was readied. The continuous shooting following the explosion, joined by the cacophony of voices on the radio, all solidified their course of action. “Whoever’s down there is bound to need my help.”

Billy was down there. His fireteam was taking point in securing the next block.

Shayne did his best to compartmentalize. The man was a fighter through and through. If anybody could survive out there, it was Billy. With a deep breath to help steady his hammering heart, Shayne nodded firmly and then turned to Hadi and Malek. The boy clutched onto his father with one hand, and the Skittles with the other.

It was another reminder of what was at stake – of what they were here for to begin with.

With trembling hands, Shayne gripped his rifle tighter yet, willing for the adrenaline to temper itself – to reach that point where he had ice in his veins, and he was ready for anything. The limited Pashto Shayne knew was reduced further by his brain entering fight or flight mode.

“Take care, you two.”

Hadi held onto his son tighter as he looked up at Shayne. “Inshallah, Shayne Topp.”

Shayne’s legs carried him out of the bakery on autopilot, leading him to posture up behind the car between Ruiz and Hoyle. Damien was already behind him, geared up and ready to go. Gunny was across the street. He was carefully making his way to the corner which would lead down the street to where Billy’s team was. From here, black smoke could already be seen billowing up and darkening the clear blue sky.

On cue, Shayne’s radio crackled once more, and the clear, collected voice of Sergeant Fitts came through, “Gerbil, Gerbil, this is Coyote. Come in, Gerbil.”

“Coyote, this is Gerbil,” Shayne answered, “Roger, sir?”

“Take your boys and link up with the forward team. I’ll send some men to take your spot. Secure the site of the VBIED and take Psychic with you.” The radio crackled with static for a moment, as if for dramatic pause over what the vehicle-borne IED implied. Shayne glanced at Damien, to see him nodding in acknowledgment of the order. “I’m taking my men over the eastern block to flank, over.”

“Wilco, sir. We’re moving. Gerbil out.”

Shayne’s fireteam needed no further instructions. They moved with precision and purpose, regrouping on Gunny, who was ready to round the corner. Shayne hit the wall with his back, weapon at the ready. The three following thumps behind him and the hand on his shoulder indicated that Hoyle, Ruiz, and Damien were to his rear. Shayne placed his own gloved hand on Gunny’s back.

“Talk to me, Gunny.”

“We can make a break for the next block, sir,” Gunny took the moment to peek around the bend once more. “We can post up by the corner down the street. Corporal Russo shouldn’t be far from there.”

“And the bomb?” Shayne asked with an uneasy rumble in his gut.

Gunny licked his lips before shaking his head, “I dunno, sir. Looks like it blew up before it reached the intersection. I hope Corporal Russo’s okay.”

“Inshallah,” Shayne muttered. With a big inhale and a sharp exhale, he nodded and gave Gunny another pat on the back. “Lead the way, Gunny.”

“Oorah, sir.” Gunny’s fingers flexed over his rifle’s handguard, and he rolled his shoulders once. Then his voice boomed forth, “Moving!”

They moved as a unit down the street. There were a few scattered fireteams along this stretch, guarding various alleyways and side streets. They were preventing the insurgents from flanking and catching Billy’s team off guard. The Marines held fast as Shayne’s team moved up.

With every step they took, the air grew thick and bitter. The gunfire around the upcoming corner had yet to ease up. It was a double-edged blade if anything. It meant there were Marines, hopefully including Billy, that were still alive. But it also meant they were fighting for their lives. It egged them on to run faster down the road. As they went, Shayne tried for Billy on the radio, but was met with static. Nobody was available to answer, or their equipment had been damaged.

As they ran down the road, the occasional door would pop open and just about give them a heart attack. Weapons were raised as the silhouette of a man – or more appropriately, a military aged male – would appear in the doorway. The split-second, hair-raising deliberation would be made. With relief, they would find that the men were unarmed and just there to check on the source of the ruckus. After the third close call at the hands of an innocent gawker, Shayne and Gunny had enough.

“Get inside! Get the fuck inside!”

Gunny was quick to follow up in Pashto, yelling at the onlookers and waving frantically. Thankfully, they got the message. They soon disappeared back into their homes, away from the line of fire.

It wasn’t long before the acrid smoke led them to the corner where all the action was. A pickup had overturned in the middle of the three-way intersection some time ago. Several Marines were using it for cover as their guns barked back in reply to the incoming shots. They fought furiously as one injured man was propped up against the vehicle and bleeding out. Others were lying prone in mortar-induced craters in the ground. On their side facing the intersection was what appeared to be a small mall. Muzzle flashes from the windows indicated that the forward squad had posted up there.

Gunny got in position first, loudly announcing their presence as friendlies. He took a knee at the corner and began sending shots downrange. Shayne issued his orders quickly in a mix of hand signals and sharp commands. The duo of Hoyle and Ruiz crossed over to the makeshift foxhole in the street as Shayne and Gunny covered them.

It was the first clear look Shayne got of the wreckage down the street. There was the flaming husk of what used to be a large truck halfway down the road. The bomb truck had detonated prematurely. The low, smoldering buildings on either side were missing walls and were ready to collapse completely. There was no shortage of carnage and gibs surrounding the site of the explosion.

But the more pressing matter was covering his fireteam, and then locating Billy. Shayne dutifully shouldered his rifle as he stood just to Gunny’s side. Peering through the red dot optic of his rifle, Shayne sighted his targets. The telltale all-black garb of the enemy was as iconic as it was a dead giveaway. They moved from cover to cover, occasionally peeking out to return fire. The explosion had bought them some time to take the Marines by surprise, but the premature detonation worked against them. Slowly, the Marines were regaining fire superiority.

Shayne squeezed the trigger back and allowed the rifle to kick into his shoulder. The bullets tore through his target, taking one more AK-47 out of the fight. As he and Gunny provided covering fire, Damien took that time to cross over to the overturned pickup and help the wounded Marine.

Before long, Hoyle and Ruiz had dug into their new position. The sharp crack and snap of Hoyle’s machinegun was as terrifying as it was comforting. His tracers lit up the street with flashes of red, forcing the insurgents to keep their heads down. Those that didn’t were dead before they even hit the ground.

In spite of the massive boost in firepower, there was a steady stream of shots coming from down the road. The furious rate at which the bullets landed was nearly enough to match Hoyle’s M249. Gunny appeared to pick up on this as well, because he soon nudged Shayne. “Sir, they’ve got a weapon emplacement. Might be a PKM.”

The PKM was an older, Soviet-era machinegun that the insurgents were fond of deploying with deadly effect. Judging by the lead flying at an alarming volume, Gunny seemed to be correct.

“Where?” Shayne peered around the corner and kept as little of himself and Gunny exposed as shots continued to snap by too close for comfort. After a chip of concrete was blasted off the corner, Shayne fully pulled back, prompting his rifleman to do the same.

With a frustrated huff, Gunny wiped the concrete dust from his face and spat on the ground. Shayne didn’t blame him. He could taste the concrete all the way in the back of his throat.

“Left side of the street, third floor window’s got sandbags,” Gunny explained with his thick drawl, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

As Gunny described the target to him, Shayne loaded a grenade into the M203 under-barrel launcher of his rifle. Raven and Blackbird’s sniper nest wouldn’t have an angle to shoot far down this street. They had to deal with this themselves. Gunny added, “Window shutters are blue. You can’t miss it.”

Licking his dry lips, Shayne nodded. He kept one hand on Gunny’s back to keep him in cover as he made a quick peek around the corner. True enough, down the street and on the left side was a fortified position. The blue shutters contrasted the simple tan walls of the building. Sandbags provided ample cover for the insurgents and gave them the chance to shoot mostly unscathed. The opening was large enough to get a shot in.

Shayne eyeballed the stronghold for a second longer. A bullet ricocheting off the corner sent Shayne back into cover. “What is that? Two hundred meters?”

After a pause, Gunny answered, “Yeah, give or take,” His eyes snapped to the now loaded grenade launcher. “What about collateral, sir?”

The insurgents were known to occasionally fight from buildings with noncombatants within. It was a dirty trick that prevented them from using heavy ordnance. Asking Sergeant Fitts was an option – defer the decision to him. But knowing the sarge, he’d throw the decision right back to Shayne and let him make the call. As the officer often drilled into his skull, nobody knew better than the man on the ground.

It wasn’t far-fetched to assume that there were civilians in that building. But having them in the same room where all the action was – where insurgents were rushing back and forth, passing ammo here and there, caught up in a frantic rush to keep up with the pace of the battle – that changed things. Civilians would just get in the way and waste their time. If they had noncombatants in there, they would make sure the Marines saw it because it would put a wedge right into their plans.

Adding to that, any civilians in the building but outside the room of the emplacement would be safe. The 40mm grenade’s lethality was primarily from the shrapnel. If you weren’t exposed to the shrapnel, you had nothing to worry about.

“Civvies should be clear of that room,” Shayne said, “Those shitbags wouldn’t want to deal with tripping over people while in the middle of all this.”

Gunny gave his hum of agreement and asked, “Do you got a shot, sir?”

As the torrent of gunfire went on – as Shayne still had no idea where Billy was in this whole mess, as the lives of the men in his platoon were put at risk every second the PKM was operational – well, Shayne knew there wasn’t really any answer to give other than, “Yeah. Cover me.”

Gunny called out for any nearby Marines that could hear, “Covering fire! M203 out!”

Tracers continued to streak across the road as Shayne stepped to Gunny’s side. The brief escalation of gunfire bought Shayne the precious seconds he needed to acquire the target. There was going to be substantial drop over the long distance. He had to line up the launcher’s sights perfectly with the blue window.

Shayne released a slow breath and squeezed the trigger. The grenade launched with a soft plop.

The explosive arched in the air for several seconds before finding its mark. There was a muffled explosion as a rush of dust erupted from the window. The sandbags fell forward and down into the street. The machinegun fell silent.

Gunny let out a low whistle. “Damn good shot, boss.”

The cocky smirk Shayne wore was nearly joined by a witty remark. It was cut short by a nearby voice calling out, “RPG! RPG! Get down!”

Shayne grabbed Gunny by the back of his vest and yanked him behind the corner. They were still diving prone by the time the rocket slammed into the wall.

Shayne found himself under a bright spotlight, surrounded by darkness. In place of his filthy combat gear were his pristine and pressed dress blues. The recognition sunk in just as Shayne felt a hand on his lower back.

“Hey, babe.”

Warmth filled Shayne’s chest as he turned to face his wife, all dolled up and dressed in her wedding gown. One hand settled on her waist, and the other found her hand.

“Hey, Nicki.”

The nickname split Nicole’s face into a wide smile with utter delight. Her voice took a dreamy tone as she asked, “Been a while, huh?”

Nicole took the lead as the strangeness of it all briefly crossed Shayne’s mind. They swayed to an unheard tune, dancing together in perfect synchronicity – a level of coordination that Shayne wished he had in real life.

It was the second time he’d had a… dream of this sort. The last time was when he’d gotten shot several times during close quarter fighting. While his fireteam had emerged victorious, Shayne had to be medevac’d to deal with his injuries. On the flight back was the first time he’d slipped into unconsciousness and found himself with Nicole under this same spotlight. He figured it was his mind’s way of giving him a moment of peace amid the physical turmoil his body was enduring.

“Oh my God, Shayne,” Nicole let out an irate huff – far too adorable for him to take seriously – and frowned. “You’re overthinking it.”

Shayne shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a little weird seeing you like this.”

“Can’t you just be glad to see me?” Nicole pouted.

“I can,” Shayne chuckled, “Of course I can.”

Nicole’s deep brown eyes searched him. Shayne swore she could peer into his very soul with those eyes. It was an intoxicating thing to have a woman like Nicole look at you. Shayne could do it forever.

At the same time, he just felt tired. The heat, the fighting, the distance from his family – it was draining. There wasn’t a moment that went by that he didn’t think of Nicole and Lizzy. It was almost enough to make him quit.

Almost.

The bond he had with his platoon was deep. Billy, Ruiz, Hoyle, even hotshots like Raven and Blackbird, all the Marines, they were his brothers. Anyone that would stand by his side and fight with him was a brother. Shayne would catch a bullet for any one of his men, and they would do the same for him. Coupled with the powerful sense of duty and the drive to help people like Hadi and Malek, Shayne just couldn’t see himself hanging up his helmet or turning in his rifle any time soon.

Nicole displayed her uncanny ability to see right through Shayne. The lady was a goddamn mind reader. He was far from superstitious, but if he had to bet on one superhuman feat, it would be Nicole Topp’s ability to read his mind.

Her understanding smile said enough – that she could empathize with how important this career, this life he chose was. It’s why her only request was, “Come home to us, okay?”

“Always,” Shayne’s reply was automatic as he leaned in. His forehead met Nicole’s for just a moment as his eyes shut. Quietly, reverently, he whispered, “Always.”

Their lips met and Shayne lost himself to Nicole’s fruity lip balm. It was a brief, but full, tender kiss. It was enough to put Shayne back into the fight.

Nicole slowly broke the kiss and pulled back to look at him. She held his face in her hands, fingertips ghosting along his clean-shaven cheeks. Her smile took a mischievous turn as she told him, “Your ride’s here.”

“Wha-”

Nicole’s leg extended between his own and her foot effectively trapped his. A solid hand on his chest pushed him back and sent him flailing to the ground.

Shayne awoke with a gasp as light flooded his vision. He immediately regretted opening his mouth as the chalky taste of concrete assailed his senses. Through the ringing in his ears, the steady crack of gunfire raged on. He blinked the stars out of his vision as he wriggled his heavy limbs. Rubble was being knocked to the side and sliding off his body as he was dragged back. In his hands, he clenched his rifle in a death grip. Craning his head, Shayne found his rescuer.

Corporal Billy Russo had no time to look back at Shayne, instead focusing on the battle raging on. In his dazed stupor, Shayne found himself staring at Billy’s thick stubble, still meticulously styled and shaped. Shayne wondered how he got away with it, considering how strict Sergeant Fitts was with hygiene.

The tangent and trivial train of thought was interrupted as Billy heaved Shayne out of the rubble. He dragged him by the back of his vest, while he held onto his sidearm with his free hand. From the same pile of rubble, one of Billy’s men was assisting Gunny in freeing himself.

With a powerful tug, Shayne found himself being lifted upright. His dull legs floundered for a second until he found his footing on the rough ground. Billy stepped around Shayne to face him. His mouth moved, but Shayne for the life of him couldn’t make out what Billy was saying. The ringing in his goddamn ears was flushing everything out.

They were in the middle of a fucking gunfight, the heat was sweltering, Shayne couldn’t hear shit, his legs were heavy and stiff, his fingers were locked around his rifle, he was growing lightheaded and – fuck, he just couldn’t breathe.

It was only when Billy grabbed Shayne by the shoulders that it occurred to him how sharply and shallowly he was breathing. He was gulping air down like a drowning sailor and it only served to rattle him all the more. Billy’s gloved hands went to either side of Shayne’s damp cheeks and –

Damp?

A sharp stinging sensation made itself known on Shayne’s face as Billy wiped at what was apparently a cut. Shayne’s panicked pupils tried to get a look at the wound. It was a futile effort considering the human eye didn’t exactly work that way.

Billy glanced at his own blood smeared hands, wiping them down on his fatigues once, and then returned them to Shayne’s face. His lips moved once more in the vague approximation of Shayne’s name.

Shayne craned his head to look at what was once a street corner.

A smoking ruin was left in its wake. The walls had crumbled, allowing the afternoon sun to illuminate the forgotten bookstore within. Rubble littered the street in towering piles.

Before he could ponder the close call any longer, Billy turned Shayne’s face back to face him, just as the ringing in his ears began to subside in the slightest.

“Shh,” Billy hushed, “Don’t look at the wreck, brother. Look at me. I got you.”

Shayne swallowed the lump in his throat as best as he could. He resisted the urge to glance once more at the site of the explosion as gunfire continued to pop down the street. He focused instead on Billy’s soothing shushes. Shayne closed his eyes as he felt Billy’s hand go to the back of his vest. With a few tugs and brushes, he removed bits of jagged shrapnel from the plate. Judging by the heavy, sharp clinks as they hit the ground, the shrapnel was no joke. The vest saved his life. Luck saved his limbs. If the shrapnel from the rocket had been propelled a few inches here or there, they would’ve torn through his arms.

Before Shayne knew it, Billy was dabbing at his face with a bandage, cleaning up the cut he’d sustained in the explosion.

“Shit, Bill,” Shayne finally found his voice. “When we heard the IED go off we thought the worst.”

With a sly grin, Billy shook his head. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, buddy.” The man looked Shayne up and down once more and asked, “If you feel anything, you gotta let me know so we can get your kit off.”

The brief panic had simmered down now, allowing Shayne’s senses to return in full. His ears were still complaining, but the steady drone of gunfire was more audible, as were the voices of his fellow Marines. Apart from the stinging on his cheek, there was no discernable pain that he could pinpoint. The haze in his head was similarly dissipating, and his inner leader was dusting itself off.

“Fuck,” Shayne muttered. “I need to check on my boys.”

Before Billy could get a word in edgewise, Shayne was scrambling over to the remains of the corner. With a curse under his breath, Billy followed suit. Shayne kept low to best utilize whatever cover was left from the demolished wall. Peeking out, he saw Ruiz and Hoyle where he left them. They were entrenched in the ground and sending bursts of gunfire down the street. Behind the overturned pickup, Gunny appeared rattled but intact. Damien was in the process of looking him over for injuries.

“They’re all in one piece, Shayne,” Billy observed.

“Against all odds.”

Before Billy could reply, Shayne’s radio emitted a burst of static before the transmission came in.

“Gerbil, this is Coyote. Come in, Gerbil.”

Shayne grabbed the receiver and answered Sergeant Fitts, “Coyote, this is Gerbil. We copy.”

“We’re coming up on the eastern side. Tell all teams to watch fire, over.”

With a firm nod to nobody in particular, Shayne replied, “Wilco, sir. Gerbil out.”

Billy was already moving to comply. With his head low, he darted over to the truck, and then towards the mall at the back to spread the word. Shayne similarly called out to those in earshot. The rest, he rang up on their squad radio. Despite only being barely a dozen or two yards away, the chaos of the shooting effectively multiplied that distance. With the radios, everybody was kept in the loop, and the Marines collectively double checked every gun-toting silhouette before firing.

On cue, a column of stocky figures at the far end of the road made themselves known. The squad sergeant’s team moved with violence and deliberation with each stride. Their weapons erupted in an opening salvo which immediately dropped multiple insurgents. The Marines in the flank covered one another as the enemy was effectively pincered. From where Shayne was crouched, aiming downrange, he could hear Sergeant Fitts’ booming voice, calling for surrender. When the black-clad enemy fighters refused to yield, the gunfire only intensified.

Caught in the killing zone between the forward team and the flanking element, the insurgents didn’t last much longer. Within minutes, the last shots echoed throughout the now silent street. In the distance, Shayne could make out the sergeant’s team forcing three survivors to the ground. With heavy duty cable ties, they were taken prisoner.

Things were a mess in the immediate aftermath of the fight. Such was usually the case when they had to improvise and adapt on the fly – which was always. Multiple fireteams were setup to guard the new perimeter. Shayne and Billy’s own fireteams had the very exciting task of documenting the results of the battle before they advanced to the next block. The paperwork for this was going to be a headache, but it was part of the job just the same.

The number of, and the identities of the enemy fighters (if available) had to be listed. The armaments they’d been using, any notable tactics they deployed, any radio or communication systems – though usually out here they relied on ye olde Motorola or Nokia flip phones.

And of course, Shayne and Billy were in charge of checking out the remains of the bomb truck. The explosive ordnance disposal teams were deployed elsewhere to deal with much larger, live IEDs. Shayne and Billy had undergone a crash course training with an Army EOD unit not long ago. It was up to them to investigate the truck and write up the report.

They walked side by side down the street as the rest of their fireteams worked on the information collection. From where they were, still a hundred or so meters from the truck, the stench was already becoming apparent. The still smoldering wreckage of the truck continued to billow black smoke with no regard for the living’s delicate senses. The bitter, acrid smoke was already thick in the back of Shayne’s throat. It only got worse as they drew closer.

The sickening scent of charred flesh became apparent sooner rather than later. Broken and shredded bodies lied scattered around the site of the premature detonation. Shayne averted his eyes from what looked like a melting eyeball next to the driver’s side door.

Billy hunched over as dry heaves rocked his body. That sound alone was nearly the tipping point to Shayne puking alongside him. Shayne held a hand up to his nose, willing every fiber of his being to resist the need to vomit.

Many bad smells in the city.

The young boy’s voice was fresh in his mind. Shayne stuffed his hand into his breast pocket to retrieve the limes. Surprisingly enough, they were intact despite the rough and tumble action of the past hour.

“Bill,” Shayne called as he stepped closer to his friend. He spat a thick ball of saliva onto the ground before turning his displeased face to Shayne. Billy glared in question at the lime that was pressed into his gloved hand.

Shayne crushed his own lime in hand and dabbed the rich juices over his upper lip and nose. He demonstrated as he explained, “Crush it and rub it here.”

And true enough, Malek was right. The first inhale Shayne took was the cleanest, freshest breath of air in recent memory. The sweet and just slightly sour hit of citrus flooded his senses, banishing the stench of smoke, death, and viscera. Billy followed Shayne’s lead as the latter squeezed the rest of the juices all over his nose and mouth. For good measure, he returned the crushed lime to his breast pocket.

Billy’s face lit up the moment he took in a short, experimental sniff. The relief cascaded over his features and he let slip a laugh that was equal parts surprised and delighted. “Neat trick, bud.”

With another pure, untarnished breath, Shayne nodded. “We can thank my friend Malek for that one.”

Just the same, Shayne didn’t want to test how long the fresh lime’s almost magical effect would last. He waved Billy over to get closer to the remains of the bomb truck. The sooner they got this job done with, the better.

Shayne stared at the bottle of shampoo in his hands. His eyes ran over the pristine white plastic, and the bright green labeling that adorned it. He turned it over, not quite sure what it was he was looking for. He didn’t know the first thing about the ingredients listed on a shampoo bottle. The dumb, peppy text printed on the label that was supposed to entice him to buy it wasn’t doing anything for him either. As Shayne turned the bottle over once more, the wedding ring in his left hand glinted under the store’s fluorescent lights overhead.

This wasn’t the brand he was used to – they were all sold out – but at least this one had a similar citrus scent to it. Bringing it up to his nose, Shayne popped the cap and took a second whiff, to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.

The fresh, rich fragrance of lime filled up Shayne’s very soul. The nostalgia that came with it nearly sent Shayne right back to the rough and tumble mountains of Afghanistan. It tugged at Shayne’s heart to think of it all.

God knows where Hadi and Malek were these days. He could only hope they were okay – Inshallah, as Hadi had said.

Schoonover was a traitor of the worst kind. His death was far more merciful than he deserved.

Raven and Blackbird retired long before Shayne’s discharge. They were enjoying life and had their own families, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Ruiz and Hoyle were gone too soon. It made Shayne’s heart ache to think of the people they left behind at such a young age.

Gunny was better off thinking he was dead and buried. It was touching that he and some others made it to his funeral.

Billy was gone. Even if Shayne could still smell his cologne lingering in the air from time to time.

Despite it all, it was easier to banish the lingering melancholia that dug into his bones. Thinking of the past wasn’t so hard anymore. It was always getting easier with each day that passed.

A hand found its place on Shayne’s lower back. Underneath his flannel, he could already feel his skin tingling. The hand was quickly joined by another settling on his chest. Shayne held onto it almost out of instinct. His fingertips gently ran over her painted nails. His thumb brushed against her wedding ring in a deliberate manner – as if confirming that it was there. That she was there. That this was all real. Her shapely figure pressed itself into his side, spreading warmth throughout Shayne’s chest and his entire being.

“Hey, Brad.”

Courtney Ruth Miller-Russo gave him a gentle, if not slightly cautious smile. Her radiant blonde hair was tied up in a quick but undeniably cute bun. She was wrapped up in a denim jacket – or rather, one of his jackets that she’d stolen. The .380 slug necklace around her neck shined bright. Her soulful green eyes were searching him – running along his features for any sign that something was amiss. She read him like an open book and saw right through him – right into his very soul. She was the second woman to ever have such power over him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You okay?” Courtney bit her lip just for a beat. Playfully, she added, “You look like you’re about to spiritually transcend because of that shampoo.”

Shayne huffed out a quiet laugh. He wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer yet. As he did, he brought the shampoo closer to Courtney’s face.

“Smell it. You just might attain Nirvana too.”

Courtney’s well-groomed brows pitched together in doubt of his ludicrous claim. But just the same, she obliged. She lowered her nose to the bottle and took a sniff.

Courtney then went limp, forcing Shayne to keep her upright with the arm around her waist. She stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes into the back of her head. She then produced a choking sound.

It was Shayne’s turn to roll his eyes as he retorted, “Very funny, Courtney. Very fucking mature.”

Courtney’s giggling was music to his ears. She pressed a loud, affectionate kiss to his bearded cheek. When she pulled back, she was still grinning wide. More earnestly this time, Courtney told him, “It smells good, babe. You gonna get that?”

“Yup,” Shayne nodded and lowered the bottle into the cart that Courtney had been pushing along. “Are we done here? We’re gonna be late for lunch with the avocados-at-law.”

Courtney let out a long hum as she tugged her phone free from her back pocket. Her thumb slid across the display to scroll through their grocery list. After a moment, she answered, “They’re out of Macrogurt here.”

Shayne let out a groan of despair, and Courtney went on unperturbed.

“Just gotta get dog food for Max and we’re good.”

“Okay,” Shayne rotated the cart to grab hold of the handle, “Let’s find our boy’s food.”

Before Shayne could push on, Courtney’s arm wrapped around Shayne’s own as she faced him. Her other hand landed on his chest. It traveled up, thumb brushing along his first wedding ring’s chain. It passed up his neck to settle by his jawline. Shayne closed his eyes for just a moment, savoring the sensation of her thumb caressing his fuzzy cheek – of her fingertips prodding and toying with his loose, messy strands of long hair. Any last remnants of heartache and sadness fizzled away.

The Courtney Effect was supernatural, as always.

As Shayne opened his eyes, he found Courtney wearing a curious but tentative look. When her eyes glanced once at the bottle of shampoo, Shayne knew what was coming.

“So… just wondering,” Courtney offered a little smile that was enough to make his knees weak. “Why the citrus?”

Shayne licked his lips and could almost taste the fresh juices.

With dramatic flair, he began, “Back in the day…”

Chapter Text

There was a whole mixed bag of feelings that sprung up when Ian saw Shayne’s post on the ‘gram.

At first, Ian let out a half-scoff, half-chuckle around the rim of his coffee mug. Then the caffeine began to work its magic and help him connect the dots, leading him to wonder – who was lending Shayne their leg for his shitposting? And at this early hour on a weekend at that.

All it took was a tap of his finger for the telltale co_mill tag to reveal itself.

That’s when Ian nearly dropped his mug in sheer surprise.

But he was never one to waste good coffee – especially My Favorite Coffee – so he kept his grip secure around the mug.

What came next for Ian was a pleasant warmth that started from his chest and then danced along his insides. The revelation of the rather intimate brand of shitpost was, admittedly, a little exhilarating. His two good friends – they were both so smart and emotionally mature in their own way. Yet when it came to each other –

Ian rolled his eyes out of habit from where he sat, waiting in a booth seat at Denny’s.

They were as thick as goddamn brick walls and slower than a snail weighed down by barbell plates. Ian was happy for them. Truly, he was. But at the same time, it was like – holy crap – finally. Ian swore, if they hadn’t gotten together any quicker, he would’ve locked them in a room together until they came clean to one another.

Those two thought they were so slick and inconspicuous, but anybody with eyes could see what was going on behind the scenes. Hell, forget eyes – you just needed functioning ears. There were so many giveaways that something was going on between those two. Something far more intimate than simple friendship.

Like the time they hit up a Starbucks on break. Ian and the gang took a couple of seats while Shayne went up to the counter to order. Courtney apparently had a last-minute hankering for a muffin, so she went after Shayne. Ian could vividly recall the way Courtney sidled up behind Shayne. She wrapped her arms around him and propped her chin up on his shoulder to give her order. Then if that wasn’t bad enough, she gave him a peck on the cheek before turning around – giving Ian barely a split second to look away and pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

Then who could forget one of the many slip-ups of babe.

The first time it happened, years and years ago, witnessed by Flitz and a few hundred thousand viewers – well, Ian could believe Courtney when she vehemently denied that they had a thing going on.

Now? Bullshit.

Ian could count on his fingers the number of times he or the others had overheard their pet names. But then he’d run out of fingers pretty quickly.

If Ian had to pick one, his favorite slip up was Shayne’s. It was just after finishing up a meeting with Mythical at the end of the day. Ian took his time walking back to the smoffice to pack his stuff. On the way, he decided to make a detour to the pantry. He’d been fantasizing about a nice, artery-clogging, cream filled donut throughout the entire meeting. Before Ian could lay a hand on the door, it swung open first, and out came Shayne.

In Shayne’s hand? A cream filled donut.

Shayne had turned the moment he exited the pantry, so he didn’t catch sight of Ian then. Ian was tempted to call out to him – to ask him if there was more were that came from. Instead, Ian simply peeked through the pantry door’s glass pane. True enough, he could see the staff packing up for the day, with the display cases thoroughly emptied.

His gut rumbling, Ian opened his mouth to yell Shayne’s name. Maybe they could split the last donut. Shayne was a pretty generous guy after all.

As Ian’s vocal cords prepared for action, another blonde head of hair appeared down the mostly empty hallway.

Courtney exited one door with bags slung over both shoulders. She turned in the same direction Shayne was walking – which was to say, she saw neither Ian nor Shayne.

At this point, Ian felt he should have identified himself – let them know they weren’t alone. At least that way, they wouldn’t do anything potentially embarrassing in front of him. And he was going to do that. But Shayne had a way of catching people off guard – whether with his odd brand of comedy or in the literal sense.

As Ian tried once more to get a word out, Shayne took a few large but silent strides forward to catch up to Courtney. To Shayne’s credit, he craned his head briefly to check for bystanders. Maybe it was Ian’s grey shirt making him blend in with the nearby wall. Or maybe Shayne’s muscular, thick-ass neck had a limited range of motion. Ian still wasn’t sure. But either way, Shayne hadn’t noticed him.

With his face right next to Courtney’s ear, Shayne let out a loud enunciation, “Mwah!”

Courtney recoiled and produced a brief, startled shriek.

The moment clarity set in, she smacked Shayne in the abdomen, producing a dull thwack. “You’re so stupid! Stop it!”

Ian couldn’t see Shayne’s expression from where he stood, still by the pantry door, but he could picture the wince on his face. Shayne rubbed his now sore midsection with his free hand. “Is that any way to say thank you?”

“For what?” Courtney hissed, “Scaring the pants off of me?”

“I got you the last donut,” Shayne oh-so proudly presented Ian’s coveted pastry.

There was the temptation to do some dumb shit – like maybe hurl his phone across the hallway to knock the donut out of Shayne’s dumb hand.

Ian refrained from doing so.

Courtney’s expression went from irate, to surprised, to downright tooth-achingly sweet. Her cheeks began to flush as she placed a tender hand to Shayne’s abdomen, on the same spot she’d just struck. With a quiet laugh and a brief bite of her lip, she answered, “Thank you.”

As he handed the donut over, he waved it off, “It’s nothing, babe.”

The two began to continue walking down the hall. As they did, Courtney unslung one bag to hand it over to Shayne. It clicked for Ian in that moment – that Courtney had packed Shayne’s stuff up on his behalf. The direction they were walking now? Out to the parking lot, where they would probably hop in the same car to go home.

Ian recalled sighing in that moment – partly out of the frustration of missing the last donut. Partly because it was admittedly cute how those two got along these days.

“Are you trying to fatten me up? You know I’m like, watching my sugar, right?”

Their voices were growing faint down the empty hallway, but Ian didn’t miss Shayne putting on his infamous dumpster wizard voice.

“Worried I’ll fatten ye up, eh? Hmm,” Shayne hummed as Courtney laughed around a mouthful of donut.

That could’ve been Ian’s donut.

After fair pause, Shayne continued in his deranged voice, “Best be careful now. After fattenin’ ye, maybe I’ll just eat ye up!”

“Eat me out? Oh my God,” Courtney scoffed, “At least take me on an actual date first, Shayne.”

“Hey-”

“The bar is low, don’t worry. You can take me to like, Chili’s if you want.”

“I said up!” Shayne protested, “Eat you up! Like – y’know Hansel and Gretel.”

“Ugh,” Courtney chewed on the donut as they began to round a corner, “Whatever, perv.”

Ian remembered being as red in the face as Shayne after hearing the little exchange. That was neither the first nor the last, but it was certainly one of the more memorable ones. Aside from those wholesale couple-tier snippets overheard and accidentally witnessed, there were all the small things. A hand on Shayne’s chest here, and a lingering hold of Courtney’s waist there. Glances – just so many glances at each other. Sometimes off camera, sometimes on. The shippers were growing curiouser and curiouser by the day.

Then there were the kind gestures, like Shayne – screw him – giving Courtney the last donut. That was a thing of theirs – they liked keeping each other fed. Like Shayne and his damned yogurt. Courtney had even roped Ian into one of her yogurt hunts.

It was just a month ago on an otherwise humdrum, uneventful Sunday. Ian had been minding his own business at the grocery when Courtney rang him up. Apparently, she was hoarding Machogurt, or whatever it was Shayne was so fond of. All the nearby grocers were fresh out, and Courtney’s supply was running dangerously low.

At the time, Ian asked her, what gives? So what if he misses out on his yogurt for a week?

That was unacceptable to Courtney, Ian soon learned. So, he dutifully scanned the coolers and picked out a handful of cups on Courtney’s behalf. He couldn’t recall the last time Courtney smiled so wholeheartedly when he dropped the yogurt off with her.

Scratch that – Ian could recall.

Easily any goddamn time she looked at Shayne when she thought nobody was looking. That boy’s effect on Courtney was next level. Whenever he was around her, she had this pep in her step. She was livelier. Bubblier, even. She laughed more, talked more, and had this energy about her that was never around when Shayne was absent. Mondays were slow days for Courtney thanks to Shayne’s taping schedule with the Goldberg’s.

The effect was mutual, too. If Shayne was a goofball on a normal day, it was cranked up to eleven around Courtney. It was something Ian had noticed even before the thing between them had developed. They had a knack for paying attention to each other and making each other laugh. Shayne in particular; he always had some dumb joke or comment to get a giggle out of Courtney. It may as well have been a drug for Shayne with how dedicated he was to making that woman laugh.

Ian’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. Snatching his glasses from off the table, he checked his messages.

Or rather, he had to swipe past a few hundred notifications from Instagram before anything else. Apart from the surprise and elation of learning his two friends had finally gotten together, there was the less than pleasant flood of messages.

Shayne and Courtney were likely getting ten times the messages he was, but holy crap – Ian did not expect to be pulled into this. In droves, there were fans messaging both Smosh and his personal account, all to ask if the rumors were true. Others asked him if it was all a joke. Others yet asked, almost accusatorily, how long he’d known that Shourtney was canon, as they’d put it.

Ian replied to just one of those messages.

It’s *Shartney.

It was against his better judgment, and probably reposted to a dozen fan accounts, but Ian found himself beyond caring. It was a harmless prod at the ship name he, and at least Courtney, personally preferred.

Finally locating the latest notification, Ian read Shayne’s text.

Shanye: Parking. Be there in a sec.

With a lopsided grin, Ian typed his reply.

Ian: You using your own leg to drive or is that Court’s?

The original plan had been to pick up the duo – the couple? – the couple, from Courtney’s apartment. While on the road, Shayne sent a text that they would be running a little bit late, and that they would just meet him there. Ian wasn’t looking forward to future tardiness due to hanky-panky.

Ian’s phone soon chimed with a new message from Shayne. He snorted at the sight of Courtney – hair still damp – flipping him off in the middle of the Denny’s parking lot. Behind her was Shayne, using his side mirror to hastily finger-comb his hair.

Almost on cue, the doors to the diner opened. The pair of familiar blondes made their entry.

There was some relief that Ian couldn’t quite place when he saw them. Oftentimes when you have friends that hook up, things change. The dynamic can be turned up on its head. Everyone becomes a third wheel. In hindsight, Shayne and Courtney had a habit of doing that even before they got together.

But still – the vibe would just be different. Worse yet would be if those two friends eventually split. It would just get ugly for the whole friend group, especially if people were forced to pick sides. Add to the mix that they were coworkers? It was potentially a volatile powder keg.

Yet the way Shayne and Courtney strode in – shit, it was like any other Saturday morning. They weren’t holding hands and skipping like children through a field of flowers. They just walked shoulder to shoulder like it was no big deal. Like they hadn’t finally sealed the deal after a year or so of beating around the bush.

As they drew closer, Ian got a better look at their appearances. Shayne smoothened out his hoodie periodically. When he wasn’t doing that, he was running his fingers through his slowly drying hair. Courtney was in the process of tying up her damp head of hair into a messy bun – like she finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort allowing it to hang loose while wet. A denim jacket was worn over her Pizza Place shirt – a rather big size, with the excess tied up by the waist. It didn’t take a genius to guess it was Shayne’s.

All in all, they looked like they jumped straight from the shower, into the hasty change of clothes, and then finally into the diner. Ian was powerless to stop his eyebrows from bobbing up as his suspicions for their tardiness were confirmed.

Ian scrunched his nose for a beat and pushed the thought down.

He absolutely did not need to think about his two friends bonking.

In lieu of that line of thought, Ian recalled the original reason they scheduled this breakfast date to begin with. The fuck up that began it all and kickstarted this chain of events.

“Hey, man.” Ian allowed Shayne to pull him in for a quick bro-hug.

“Morning, Ian,” Shayne answered.

Ian turned to Courtney then and felt a rumble in his gut. Through Courtney’s damp bun, and noticeably light and rushed makeup, Ian could only see the Courtney from yesterday – upset and offended by how much they’d poked fun at her early YouTube videos.

“Courtney, hey,” Ian sucked in a breath, “Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I-”

Courtney was staring at him with a tilt of her head.

He was terrible at apologies and this was no exception.

“I, uh – it really was out of line.” His stomach churned further as Courtney narrowed her eyes for a beat. “I know how important those videos were to you.”

What looked like realization crossed Courtney’s face as Ian rambled on with another deep breath, “We fucked up. We were really shitty. There’s no other way to say it. Just like – y’know – say the word, Court. We don’t need to upload that video. I’m sorry we gave you such a rough time.”

“Ian,” Courtney, to his surprise, smiled wide. “It’s okay. Apology accepted, my dude.”

He was the slightest bit doubtful. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shayne’s warm smile. It made more sense then – that Shayne had likely apologized tenfold and made up for their blunder more than Ian ever could by himself.

“Are you sure?”

Ian knew how callous he could come off at times. A part of it was just being a product of his time. He was partially raised by the internet’s edgier and less accommodating side. That didn’t stop him from truly caring about people, though. Even if it may not have been too obvious. The last thing he wanted was to slight a friend.

“Yes!” Courtney spread her arms, “Bring it in, bish!”

Ian laughed but obliged and met Courtney in the middle for a big hug. As Courtney patted his back, she added, “You’re lucky you sent this idiot over last night.”

“Hey!” Shayne protested.

In a poor rendition of a high-class British accent, Courtney mused, “He was a worthy offering to the queen.”

“Well,” Ian pulled back, “I’m glad Her Majesty got a worthy sacrifice.”

“I’m right here, guys.” Shayne waved his hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Courtney dismissed him with a wave right back, earning a displeased look from the man. Said look was quickly wiped off with a quick peck to the cheek from Courtney.

It was a little jarring – just a little – to see their affection so open for the world to see. After all the tiptoeing and will-they-won’t-they, it was a breath of fresh air as well. Ian settled into the booth seat across from the two and was as direct as Shayne and Courtney now were with one another.

“So, you two are touching butts now, right?”

Courtney’s jaw was agape while Shayne briefly put his face into his hands.

“What – it’s not like it’s a secret anymore.” Ian pointed at Shayne and added, “Romeo and his leg tagging over here made sure of that.”

“Hey man,” Shayne paused and licked his lips before conceding, “Yeah, no – that’s definitely my fault.”

Recovering from the initial surprise over Ian’s candor, Courtney just seemed amused by it all. In between short giggles, she said, “You’re so dumb, Shayne.”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t the initial plan?” Ian surmised.

“No,” Shayne shook his head. “It was supposed to just be vague at first. Lead them on a little without giving it away. Like, y’know, that leg could be anyone’s. Maybe I got good at Photoshop all of a sudden.”

Grinning like a hyena, Courtney added, “Then he did a fucky-wucky and tagged me.”

“And now the cat’s out of the bag,” Shayne concluded.

“Yeah,” Ian scoffed, “Out of the bag and spamming my notifications.”

Courtney and Shayne exchanged a look. In near perfect synchronicity, the couple tugged their phones out and set them on the table. With a leveled glare from Courtney, and some flair from Shayne, they set the phones to vibrate.

Ian raised his hands in surrender as their phones shook and crawled along the tabletop. They made such a ruckus that a few heads turned their way as the sound of the violent vibrations were enough to rival any ringtone.

“Okay, okay – point taken.”

Courtney snatched her phone back before it could vibrate all the way off the edge. It continued to hum in her hand as she switched it back to mute. Shayne on the other hand watched his phone skim across the table for a few more moments. It rattled the utensils through shear kinetic force until it finally bumped into the condiment tray. The energy was transferred – enough to knock a saltshaker over.

Ian was the first to tear his eyes away from the phone’s vibration-driven rampage across the table. Courtney was next when she felt the weight of Ian’s stare on her. Shayne was still thoroughly transfixed, up until receiving an elbow in the ribs from Courtney.

Shayne swatted her arm away before motioning to the phone, “Look, I’m not saying there’s an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records for farthest phone travel by vibration, but…”

Courtney snorted out a laugh and chided, “Stop!”

Ian merely shook his head and flagged a waiter down to get their orders. It was easy, considering they were already being given disapproving looks for all the commotion.

A few minutes of order-taking later, Shayne tapped his now silent phone and said, “This is kinda why we wanted to see you.”

“Hey,” Ian kept a neutral face. He was always down to help his friends and coworkers, especially with a mess like this. But he also could never pass on the opportunity to poke fun at them. “This is your problem, man. I’m not the one that tagged Courtney’s leg in your weird hornypost.”

Shayne’s face scrunched up as he retorted, “It was a shitpost, Ian. Not a hornypost.”

“Ehh,” Ian shrugged, “Agree to disagree.”

“Ian!” Courtney scolded with a laugh in her voice, “Seriously – what are we gonna do?”

“Fine, fine. Let’s get the facts straight first.” Ian clasped his hands on the table and leaned in a fraction. “I wanna be on the same page as you guys.”

At the couple’s matching nods, Ian went on, “So, you two finally worked out whatever it is you are. What are you?”

It was adorable, Ian had to admit, when they exchanged looks once more. They held each other’s gaze for a second longer than was probably necessary. It didn’t take long for Shayne to duck his head for a beat to conceal his grin, or for Courtney to bite her lip to keep her smile from spreading.

“You two are so sweet I could fucking throw up.”

Courtney let slip a giddy laugh as she leaned against Shayne. Her hand settled on his lap to give him an encouraging squeeze. It appeared to lend Shayne the resolve to get his embarrassed self back together.

“You’re dating?” Ian offered as he vaguely gestured between them, “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Shayne wrapped an arm around Courtney in a casual sort of manner. Ian supposed that in a way, it really was no big deal. It was new, sure, but it was by no means bad. The physical contact between the two was so natural that it wasn’t too jolting to witness.

After pursing his lips in contemplation, Shayne answered, “It’s weird, right?” He glanced at Courtney who tilted her head side to side in a vague form of agreement. “Like, just a little bit – girlfriend, boyfriend, it’s like I haven’t been remotely associated with those words in a long time.”

With a thoughtful hum, Courtney nodded, “Yeah, dude, now that you mention it. Like the last time was years ago. Boyfriend and girlfriend are just so… y’know,” Brianna Boho’s ditzy voice slipped out as she waved a dainty hand, “Like, girlfriend – have you met my boyfriend?”

Ian rolled his eyes into the back of his head in exasperation. “Okay – what do you prefer? Lovers?”

He got a good chuckle at how they both cringed at the term.

“Man – no, just no.”

“Ian,” Courtney shook her head, “Please don’t ever say that word again.”

“Exclusive – you guys are exclusive, right? Is that safe to assume?”

Finally, he got no argument or moment of pause as they replied.

“Mhm.”

“Yup.”

“So, you’re exclusive, like partners then,” Again, met with no protest, Ian added, “So you’re dating but you’re both just dumb dumbs and can’t settle on a term?”

Shayne and Courtney looked as though they wanted to protest, but took a moment too long to rebut.

“Okay, and judging by your stunt on Instagram, you’re okay with going public?”

“Not really how we planned it, but…” Shayne shrugged and shifted his gaze to Courtney, who scrunched her nose in response.

“Plan is a strong word. You just wanted to stir the shipper’s nest,” Courtney stated matter-of-factly.

Ian glanced at his phone, notifications still blasting off silently. “Yeah, stirred them right into a feeding frenzy that’s for sure. Probably converted a bunch of normal fans into Shartney fans too.”

“It’s too late for Shania to untag me,” Courtney nudged Shayne’s temple with the side of her head. “We talked about it and we don’t want to hide us.”

“What’s the point hiding it, right?  Like, this is real. It’s happening. We-” Shayne gave a short, breathy laugh, “We don’t have Defy ready to kick us out anymore.”

“Oh, no worries,” Ian shrugged and deadpanned, “I’ll kick you out myself if I catch you two making out at work.”

It earned sharp laughs from the couple as Ian went on, “Think I’m kidding? HR’s gonna give you such a hard time, you’ll wish you continued playing will-they-won’t-they.”

“We get it,” Shayne raised his hand in a pledge. “No making out at work.”

“If we can help it,” Courtney added innocently.

Ian leaned forward and reiterated, “No making out at work!”

“Ugh, you’re so lame.”

Ian shook his head and rapped his knuckles on the table to get them back on track. “What’s next for you two then? Or were you expecting me to figure that part out?”

Shayne answered almost sheepishly, “You’re the boss, boss.”

Ian could understand the sentiment. But at the same time, it didn’t sit too right with him. A decision like this – something that concerned them – it shouldn’t just be up to him. That sort of draconian leadership went out the window alongside Defy.

“Well yeah, but not really,” Ian kept his expression light as he spoke frankly. “Guys, I’m happy for you both. Honestly, it’s about time you got your heads out of your butts to come clean.”

Shayne and Courtney listened intently as Ian continued, “It can’t be up to me what you guys do next. I understand Shartney is gonna shake things up at Smosh one way or another. But in the end,” He shrugged and motioned towards them. “Will it change that much, really? You’re both the same idiots on set that you were before. As long as you’re not sucking each other’s faces off while the camera’s rolling, I don’t see any issues.”

Pausing to take a breath and gauge the pair’s attentive faces, Ian added, “I can give suggestions, but it’s really mostly your call. What were you expecting me to say? That we gotta make a formal video or something? Title it, Shayne and Courtney’s Love Story?”

Ian gagged for emphasis as the couple in question wore matching expressions of distaste.

Shayne spoke up first, “It’s not very… Smosh of us to do that, is it?”

“It’s not,” Courtney agreed, “But like, I wanna clear the air. Just so there’s no misinterpreting things, y’know?”

As Ian nodded in agreement, their waiter returned, tray in hand. The table was loaded with stacks of pancakes, bacon, ham, hash browns, and more. Ian scooped his phone up as the table ran out of free surface space.

“Maybe you could do it like the Why We Suck at Dating series,” Ian pitched as his cup of coffee was refilled.

“Like draw our story out?” Shayne asked. At Ian’s nod, Shayne hummed and turned to Courtney. She gently eased out from underneath the arm Shayne had wrapped around her. It allowed her to scoot over slightly to her plate and utensils.

Courtney seemed to have thought it over for quite a bit, because the worlds rolled out slowly as she answered, “I dunno, man. If I had to sit down and go into detail about how we got together, I might throw up.”

Shayne raised his brows in a clear mixture of amusement and confusion. “Why’s that?”

“Becaaauuuuse,” Courtney’s shoulders came up to cover her neck, as if she were being tickled, “That’s private!”

Shayne’s face split into a wide grin, “Can you imagine though?”

Ian watched the two sink into their own world. Illustrating their odd story would be great entertainment value – hell, it would probably be one of their most viewed videos in recent memory. But again, it just wasn’t Smosh enough. They didn’t sit their cast members down to tell their life stories. They threw parodies and curveballs and did the unexpected. A staged, relatively serious storytelling just wouldn’t have the same zing to it.

Ian’s eyes snapped to the phone still in his hand as the table was overcrowded with food. Then they flitted to Shayne, mischief on his features as Courtney stuck her tongue out at him.

It was unconventional, that was for certain. He’d be sure to get their permission first before posting it as well. He probably wouldn’t need to run it through Mythical either. They didn’t have to go through many hoops anymore just to post content to their socials. With the free reign that Mythical gave them, it was like the wild west. It was the equivalent of handing a child a loaded gun, and telling them the first rule of gun safety was to have fun.

And boy would they have fun with this one.

Ian turned his rear camera on and set it to record. Shayne and Courtney were none the wiser as he slipped his phone into the front pocket of his flannel.

“Just picture it, Court.” Shayne stuck himself to Courtney’s side with enough force to cause her to lose balance. She grabbed hold of the table to stay upright as she looked at Shayne with wide eyes. His cheek smushed against her own as he teasingly went on in an upbeat tone he would never use in a serious context, “Hey Shartners, we have an announcement to make!”

Ian was legitimately impressed by how in synch they were. Because from surprised and literally knocked off balance, Courtney quickly joined in on the bit.

“Shartney just sharted itself into becoming a reality!”

“It’s been a long time coming, but what can I say?” Shayne pulled back to look at Courtney, “It was love at first yogurt.”

Courtney drew vague shapes in the air with an imaginary marker, “Girls, if you ever want your own man, all you gotta do is lure ‘em in with yogurt. Gets ‘em every time!”

“And boys,” Shayne pointed at Ian, and unknowingly, the camera, “Never turn down free food from anyone, especially if they’re cute.”

In an overly sweet tone, Courtney asked, “You think I’m cute?”

Ian winced hard as Shayne put on a baby voice and booped Courtney on the nose, “As cute as a button!”

Courtney held character for all of two seconds, appearing flattered and giddy – then she gagged and her body produced a cringe-induced shiver. “Oh my God! We’re not going public with a video like that!”

Shayne continued writing in the air, completely unfazed. “If you want a girl to hold your hand, watch a horror movie with her.” He pointed at the not-so-imaginary camera and added, “She’ll be scared shitless and hold your hand.”

“Stop!” Courtney smacked him on the arm and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Was that why you wanted to watch Hereditary with me? All part of the plan?”

Finally, Shayne broke character. He smiled more sincerely and dropped the upbeat voice. His hand came up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind Courtney’s ear. “Course not. I honestly did think it was the best way to take your mind off all that.”

Courtney appeared to study Shayne for a few moments longer, as if making sure he wasn’t messing with her. Eventually, she wore a little smile of her own. “Thanks again for that.”

They were holding eye contact a little too deeply for Ian’s liking. If it went on for any longer, he was afraid they would start making out. To prevent this, Ian chimed in to remind them he was there.

“Get a room, you two. Jeez.”

Shayne and Courtney pulled away sheepishly as Ian tugged his phone free from his shirt pocket. With a tap, the video was saved. As the couple began digging into breakfast in earnest, Ian kept busy, thumbs darting across his phone’s keyboard.

Ian had just finished preparing the posts for Twitter, Instagram, and the main YouTube channel. Shayne spoke up over the quiet din of utensils clinking to ask, “Whatcha doin’ there, Ian?”

“Just going over our latest video,” Ian shrugged casually.

“Which video?” Courtney asked.

“Oh, this is the title,” Ian cleared his throat. “Hashtag Shartney seen at Denny’s, question mark, question mark, exclamation point. Does Shartney is, all caps, confirmed, question mark, exclamation point, question mark.” Ian gave a dramatic pause, “Parenthesis, not clickbait.”

Ian turned his phone over and played the video taken not ten minutes ago.

“Oh shit,” Shayne laughed out as their antics played onscreen.

“Ian, you – you’re a,” Courtney huffed out a barely audible oh my God, “You’re a sneaky little shit, aren’t ya?”

Ian proudly, smugly even, bowed his head for the nonexistent applause. “Unconventional, not too sappy, and can technically count as a formal announcement. You’re welcome.”

The pair glanced at one another. Ian could swear they had some kind of telepathic link. There was so much between the two that was conveyed nonverbally. Once they finished their telepathic exchange, Shayne turned to Ian. His brows raised and his shoulders shrugged slightly, “It’s not a bad idea.”

With pink cheeks, and eyes going back to the video playing on Ian’s phone, Courtney agreed. “Let’s do it.”

“You sure?” Ian asked. “Last chance before this goes up.”

Courtney’s eyebrows pitched together as she leaned forward, “Ian, this is like – this is gonna be the last of it, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said it earlier, nothing much is gonna change at Smosh, right?”

Nodding deliberately, Ian confirmed, “Yeah.”

Courtney glanced at Shayne before encircling her arm around his. “I don’t want to have a ton of videos about us.”

“Court, Shayne,” Ian looked at them in turn and promised, “We’re not gonna milk your relationship for content. If you ever feel like we’re pushing it and taking advantage of your relationship, tell me. I don’t wanna do you guys dirty like that.”

Relief washed over Courtney and she flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks, Ian.”

“For real, we appreciate it, man,” Shayne affirmed. He placed a hand on Courtney’s arm, running it up and down in gentle strokes. “We’re glad you’re really chill about this whole thing.”

“I’m still gonna fire you both if I see any PDA at work.”

Courtney and Shayne laughed freely at Ian’s displeased face. As they did, Ian turned his attention back to his phone. With a few presses, the video was published to their socials. He made sure to keep his phone set to mute, lest the vibrations send the phone tumbling to the floor.

Smosh would be entering a new era, in a way. For some while, the fans would probably continue riding the high of this new development. But Ian was confident that they’d settle down given enough time. He could already picture new comments in old videos, proudly declaring that they’d seen the signs leading up to the duo getting together. And as persistently as those commenting first, there would likely be those diligently noting how some videos were pre-Shartney. Their video covering Courtney’s early YouTube days would likely be flagged as such.

Quietly, deep down, Ian hoped that there would never reach a point where fans would be labeling videos as post-Shartney.

It was at that moment Ian was taken from his train of thought as Courtney snapped a picture of him staring at his food. He blinked the surprise back to watch as she then switched to her front cam. Courtney leaned her head against Shayne as they grinned for the camera.

“Breakfast with my boys,” Courtney declared as she typed away on her phone. Ian didn’t think it was possible, but she smiled even wider when Shayne placed a quick kiss to the side of her head before turning back to his food.

Ian wasn’t much of a betting man, but he was willing to make an exception for this. These two would last. Post-Shartney wasn’t ever going to be an annoying comment they would have to worry about.

Chapter Text

They always had a sixth sense for each other’s moods. It didn’t matter if they were two feet apart or connected by technology – nothing stopped their synchronization.

The rise and fall of Courtney’s chest as she released a discreet sigh – quiet enough that the mics would fail to pick it up. The bob of Shayne’s Adam’s apple as he gulped and then clenched his jaw. The absence of emojis and haha-s in Courtney’s texts. Shayne’s un-casual and far more punctuated messages.

They had their tells. The quirks and subconscious ticks that gave them away. That is – gave them away to each other. Nobody else ever really picked up on their cues as well as they could. It was a blessing, in a way. Their ability to read one another made it easy to adjust as needed; to catch the little negative moods before they could fester. At the same time, it was a curse. Being an open book to each other meant it was exceedingly difficult to mask their emotions even if they wanted to.

Shayne found that it was more blessing than curse during this stream.

The Smosh Games streams were fun, if not a little tiring. Wii Bowling Night was no different.

He’d been partnered up with Saige, while Courtney and Ian were on the opposing team.

Try as he might, Shayne failed to resist Courtney’s gravity-like pull. He found himself looking across at Courtney far too often. They’d exchange looks, and a quip here and a joke there would be dropped. If it went on for any longer, Shayne’s face was going to start hurting from how much he’d been grinning and laughing.

No one made him laugh quite like Courtney did. It wasn’t just the humor and the elation it brought. Laughing because of Courtney – and making her laugh as well – was intoxicating. It brought on a different sort of joy that words simply could not describe. They often had a world of their own as a result. The stream and the game would go on as their castmates conversed and goofed around. But them? They had a bad track record of quiet exchanges too soft for the mic, lopsided smiles only they knew the meaning behind, and secret text messages sent during lapses in action.

Shayne sighed, more out of anticipation than anything else, when Courtney scored a strike. He needed to match that. Before he had the chance to begin strategizing the very serious task of Wii Bowling a strike, Courtney turned to face him. His eyes followed hers as she extended the remote for him to take.

She must have heard his sigh or seen the look on his face, because she was quick to spread her arms and taunt in a high-pitched voice, “Jealous much?”

The laugh was out of his mouth before he could even process it. Courtney followed suit and to him it was, as always, his favorite sound in the world.

“Aw, jealous much?” Shayne repeated in an even higher pitch as he strapped the remote to his wrist.

Courtney’s delighted laughter had no right to be as enchanting as it was.

When Shayne then bowled a perfect strike right back, he turned to Courtney. His chest was puffed out and the taunt of “Jealous much?” was on the tip of his tongue.

Courtney beat him to it with half a second to spare, and her pitch even higher still, “I guess not.”

Shayne was vaguely aware that he and Courtney were in their own world once more – even more when Courtney stretched over to poke his midsection as she giggled. His hand shot up to intercept. His fingers snapped against her wrist and somehow unstrapped her smartwatch.

Courtney’s face twisted in confusion and amusement as she raised her other hand to ensure it wouldn’t fall to the ground.

With laughter thick in his tone, Shayne voiced what Courtney’s bamboozled brain was thinking, “I just completely undid your smartwatch!”

Her brows pitched together. As confused as she was befuddled, Courtney let out in between giggles, “You just completely undid it.”

As Shayne continued kidding about how he should’ve eaten her watch, he passed the Wii remote to Saige. It was at that point he felt almost guilty for barely paying attention to her as he and Courtney were in their own world as they had a knack to do. Shayne interacted with Courtney, technically the opponent, far more than he did with Saige, his actual teammate. He wasn’t making for a particularly good partner if he was busy paying attention to Courtney all night, inadvertently ignoring Saige in the process.

Saige was an exceptional addition to Smosh. He’d been sure of her potential way back, ever since she GM’d for that whole Mothman debacle. But despite how good of a fit she was, she was still new. It would be unbecoming of a coworker to neglect her and unintentionally make her feel unwelcome. Shayne would go as far to say that it was his responsibility as a senior cast member to make sure she felt like one of the crew.

Accidentally failing to yes and her bits and bounce off her jokes was unprofessional. It might have been an exaggeration, but Shayne felt scummy just the same. Saige deserved better as a friend and a coworker.

That was what caused Shayne to make the conscious effort to focus a little more on Saige as the stream went on. Shayne physically angled himself away from Courtney. He knew himself well enough by now. If he didn’t keep her out of sight, he’d be stealing far too many glances at that cute bun she had her hair up in. Or how nice her makeup was today and how well it complimented her gorgeous features. Or maybe how nice those shorts made her butt look –

Shayne all but turned his back to Courtney to avoid ogling her.

As planned, Shayne focused on Saige. The effect appeared nearly instantaneous. Saige’s jokes and quips gained traction now that Shayne made it a point to jive with her. She was perking up as well, and her unique brand of squeaking laughter filled the studio more. It was considerably better than when her bits fell flat because Shayne was in his own world with Courtney.

At one point, Courtney feigned a roundhouse kick his way.

Shayne’s head snapped up from the Twitch Chat to challenge her, “Try it again.”

He was prepared to grab her leg mid-kick, not unlike an MMA fighter. Maybe even tickle her until she falls down.

Shayne suppressed the urge as quickly as it came. The last thing he needed was to get into another minute-long playfight with Courtney while the cameras were rolling. God knows it would be clipped and reposted to every other Shartney fan account in existence. And besides, he was trying not to get sidetracked hard and leave Saige hanging as a result.

So, when Courtney picked up the pizza pillow and began smacking him with it, he remained resolute. Stoically, he turned back to the iPad as the dull, rhythmic thumps filled the air. His indifference of Courtney’s shenanigans would look like a bit, anyway. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

Shayne’s uncanny sixth sense kicked in not long after.

Courtney had noticed his change in disposition. She wasn’t dumb. She was as in-tune to him as she was to her. Of course, it would have only been a matter of time until she noticed.

It was the little things. It was always the little things.

When Shayne did eventually turn in his seat to face Courtney better and crack a joke, it fell flat. She was looking at Chat, seemingly unaware of him entirely.

Courtney angled herself away from him, much in the same manner he’d done to pay more attention to Saige. It was harder to catch Courtney’s eye, whereas usually it was the easiest thing on earth to communicate in glances alone.

One of the things Shayne loved about Courtney was that she smiled with her entire being behind it. Now, the small quirk of her lips barely reached her eyes.

If Shayne had to physically write down all the ways he could tell Courtney was upset, his pen would dry up, and his wrist would be inflicted with Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

Eventually, the stream’s scheduled break arrived. Saige and Ian hopped off their seats to make a beeline for the bathrooms. Courtney, her movements particularly listless, got up to retrieve her water bottle not far away. The rest of the crew broke off into smaller groups nearby. The idle drone of chatter filled the air.

To say that time was limited was an understatement. Shayne’s gut had been rumbling in discomfort for the past half hour already. Not from indigestion, but from the downcast look on Courtney’s face that only he could see. While his intentions had been in the right place, the execution was certainly lacking. He had to make amends – or at least show Courtney that he wasn’t unaware of the effect he’d had on her.

Shayne wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from a long day, or if maybe he’d just lost it a little bit – but Courtney’s silhouette as she drank water, one hand on her hip, looked like an origami crane. The crook of her elbow formed a wing, while the arm she had up to tilt the bottle of water to her mouth resembled the head.

It’s not like Courtney hadn’t called him insane on multiple occasions in the past.

Shayne stretched to reach his bag hidden behind the cube seats towards the back. From within, he drew the half-finished peach-colored origami crane he’d started earlier. He pressed it flat against the table before him. His hands went through the familiar motions and folds of their own accord. He could do this blindfolded by now.

Well – to be realistic, it would probably look like shit if he did, but it would at least resemble an origami crane.

Courtney returned to her seat at the other table. She idly scrolled through Twitch Chat without batting Shayne an eye.

With a final fold and a test that the wings were working, Shayne allowed himself a quiet sigh of satisfaction. He turned in his seat to face Courtney fully and called her, “Hey, Courtney.”

Now that she was being addressed directly, Courtney couldn’t keep up the slightly cold shoulder she was giving him. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her well-groomed brows had the smallest furrow.

Shayne spat it out before he lost his nerve or felt any worse than he already did.

“Loser catches the crane and says ‘what’!”

Shayne flicked the origami crane in Courtney’s direction. Her eyes widened for a moment as the paper bird soared through the air straight at her. She leaned back in her seat and fumbled to catch it. The crane came to a rest in her palms as she looked at Shayne with confusion.

“What?”

As soon as the words left Courtney’s mouth, she appeared to register what he’d said.

“Loser,” Shayne repeated.

Courtney’s face broke into a full, beautiful smile that made Shayne’s heart turn. She bit down on her lip to stop a giggle before it could come out. She cradled the figure gently in one hand and flipped him off with the other. The sparkle in her eyes was enough to make Shayne swoon.

They held each other’s gazes for several long moments. It was only in Shayne’s periphery that he could tell Courtney was lowering the hand she flipped him off with. All he could focus on were those deep green eyes that gazed at him. They tore down any conceivable barrier he could hope to put up – disarming him like he’d disarmed her smartwatch. The inner machinations of his mind were laid bare before her.

Words weren’t needed to convey Shayne’s apology. He could tell by the light in Courtney’s eyes that the message was received loud and clear – more effectively than words would ever deliver.

Shayne broke eye contact only for a moment. He glanced towards Saige’s seat, tilting his head by a degree. His shoulder bobbed up an inch with a half-shrug.

His answer came in a crinkle by Courtney’s captivating eyes. Considerate to a fault is what Shayne could imagine Courtney was calling him.

Or perhaps just dumb.

Crazy even.

He was crazy about Courtney, that was for sure. Not that he’d ever tell her.

Shayne yearned to sit closer to her. It was easy during the Board AF streams when they sat together more often than not. Their nonverbal, almost telepathic connection wasn’t exclusive to glances, smiles, and winks. They were tactile in a way that was meant only for each other. A hand on the arm here. A nudge of the knee there. A playful poke or two.

The four to five feet between them may as well have been miles. It made Shayne long for the physical contact all the more.

Footsteps signaled Ian and Saige’s return, along with that of several other crewmembers preparing for the stream’s resumption. Courtney offered Ian a polite smile as he reclaimed his seat before she turned her attention back to Shayne. Her fingertips ran along the origami crane’s wing in a fond stroke.

Nearly out of time now, Courtney gave Shayne a simple nod. It alleviated any remnants of doubt that things weren’t okay between them. She peered at him even as she set the crane down behind her where it wouldn’t get smushed in all the commotion.

As they counted down the seconds to the stream going live, Courtney stuck her tongue out at Shayne. He scrunched his face up with displeasure like a rehearsed reply.

They held each other’s gaze up until the stream went live.