Work Text:
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He was always the first through the door, the protector. Whatever lay behind, he could take it. Take the beating.
This… this was much worse. He’d take a thousand beatings, to never go through this again.
Hell, he’d been held at gunpoint, tortured, trapped in a burning building - that all ached, sure, but this stung.
Their suspect was supposed to be there. They were going to surprise him, breach his apartment and take him back to the station after reading him his rights, just like always.
Instead, they kicked the door down to find a lifeless body, slumped up against the bedroom wall, in a pool of its own blood. Eyes still open.
Esposito had seen a dead body before. More than he could count, in fact. So, in the least morbid way possible, that was not what got to him.
The closet door, cracked open a fraction. He almost didn’t notice, almost left with the rest of the officers - some of whom were not quite as acclimated to the dead as he was. It was only when the room was almost empty that he heard it. A muffled cry. A single sob, sounding from behind the closet door.
A child.
He didn’t register much of anything from that point - at some time, he made his way back to the precinct, although he couldn’t tell you how. Almost on autopilot, he did everything he was supposed to. Sign in, paperwork, phone call, paperwork, a tedious cycle. When he was done, he let his feet take him to the observation room, although how much observing he was doing was questionable. Beckett and Castle’s interrogation played like background noise as he stood staring through the glass. Like post-midnight television after a long day.
The door opened, but he didn’t take any notice. His eyes were locked on a spot on the wall opposite, a tile which was chipped and coming loose - he made a mental note to call maintenance, but his hands weren’t cooperating just quite yet.
“You alright? Esposito?”
It was like a faint hum in the back of his mind - he ignored it. Maybe not intentionally.
“Espo?”
This he registered, although despite his instincts telling him to turn toward the noise, he found his eyes still glued to the wall opposite.
It was the sudden physical contact that brought him back to reality, jolting as his focus snapped to the source. Ryan, stood across from him, brow furrowed and eyes scanning his face for any sign of what was wrong. Esposito looked away almost as soon as he’d looked up, knowing the other man could read him like an open book. Instead, he let his gaze trace its way down Ryan’s tie, following the familiar pattern across the fabric - it was ridiculous, but he bought it as a gift a few years back and Ryan wouldn’t stop wearing it. So there he was, watching the neon lines dance as he tried desperately not to cry at work. His efforts were starting to seem as if they were in vain - his vision was clouding, and he fought the urge to blink, as not to let his tears fall.
Ryan took Esposito’s hand into his own gently, letting his thumbs draw grounding circles upon his skin. It was enough to encourage the other to meet his eyes, tentatively raising his head to look at his boyfriend. Esposito was greeted with a brief look of gentle concern, followed swiftly by a small smile of reassurance.
The two hadn’t been dating for the longest time, but they went far, far back. Far enough to know when a moment required no words.
And so they stood, opposite one another, looking. Understanding.
Unprompted, but welcomed nonetheless, Esposito readied himself to speak - Ryan felt his hands tense up within his own grip.
“It was so… bad. Kevin, this- it was so, so…”
His voice broke.
“Javi…” Ryan’s voice was barely above a whisper, almost failing to escape his throat at all.
So as to avoid crying at work, he suppressed the sobs that threatened to overcome him, and simply rest his forehead on Ryan’s shoulder. Tears fell anyway, wetting the navy fabric beneath him, and he nestled his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck when he felt loving arms wrap around his waist, pulling him in. Ryan ran his hands up and down Esposito’s back, pressing him close in the hopes his own steady heartbeat would work to comfort the other’s, and kissed the side of his head lightly. It was there they stayed, and would remain, until Esposito could walk tall again. Then, and only then, would they do it together.