Archive of Our Own

This was completely normal, right? 

Ryan stared at his small suitcase, lips pressed in a thin line. He shouldn’t need much - it was only a week away from home. Five shirts, three pants, two socks, and a couple pairs of boxers should be all he needed to survive. 

And maybe the sanity he lost when he agreed to go on this trip with Shane, wherever that had gone. He’d like it back, thanks.

“Come on, Ryan. It’s barely a week. The office is closed and you’re not doing anything, so just come with me,” Shane said last Friday over lunch. “You need to get out of this state anyway and experience some real cold. Real winter.”

“No,” Ryan answered firmly. “I’ll be fine here. Go spend time with your family.” 

Shane stared him down, leaning forward in his chair. “They would like it if you came. I would like it if you came.” 

“They don’t even know me, Shane. Just what they see on the internet and whatever lies you tell them behind my back.” He took a bite out of his burrito, avoiding Shane’s stare. He wasn’t intruding on his family holiday time because his own family decided to disband and take a trip to Europe this year. 

“They’ve heard only good things, I promise.” Shane leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “At least think about it. And don’t tell me you will and then tell me no the next time I ask. Actually sit on it and think about it.” 

And Ryan had sat on it. All weekend. And when Shane asked him the following Monday, he still said no. But the Wednesday after, when Shane bombarded him at their desk in the office, his answer wasn’t quite the same. 

“I can’t just bombard your family holidays, Shane. It’s not right.” 

With an eye roll, and a very loud snort, Shane said, “Buddy, you act like you’re dropping a nuke on my house as we open gifts on Christmas day.”

“That’s probably what it will feel like,” Ryan grumbled, slouching down in his chair. 

Shane flicked him on the ear, earning a dramatic “Ow!” from the man. “Quit sulking and pack your bags. You need a vacation, and I refuse to go on one and think about you sitting at home, all alone, eating popcorn and crying over sad movies.” 

“I don’t do that,” Ryan argued. It was one time over a year ago. Clearly Shane never let it go. 

“What if you do this time? I’m not going to be held responsible for that. So when we leave here tomorrow, I expect you to go home and pack a suitcase for a week long trip.” 

Ryan groaned. “Shane, I-”

“Too late. Already told my mom you were so excited by my invitation and said yes the moment I got done asking. You can’t disappoint Sherry now.” 

Mouth agape, Ryan only stared. “You . . . You didn’t.” 

“I did.” He totally didn’t. 

“Shane!”

“Ryan!” 

“I hate you.” 

Grinning like a fool, Shane said, “Make sure you bring long sleeves. You know, thread that covers your arms. It gets pretty cold there.” 

Ryan reached to hit Shane, but the man maneuvered out of the way. “I own long sleeves, jackass. And I’ve been outside in the cold, too.” 

“Shocking, considering you start shivering the second the AC kicks on half the time,” Shane teased. “Maybe you should bring two coats.”

Fuck him. He was not bringing two coats. But now Ryan was torn on just which coat to bring. Despite looking up the weather at the Chicago airport for the week, he wasn’t sure which coat would be better for warmth indoors and outdoors, because, no, he was not bringing two coats. 

He tossed the dark blue coat inside the suitcase and slammed the lid shut, zipping it up. He would wear a hoodie on the plane. Not technically a coat, but he could argue airports were always cold. Which they are. And no one is wearing a heavy winter coat in the LAX airport. Even if they were going someplace much colder. 

Ryan’s phone buzzed on the nightstand next to his bed, and he reached for it, finding a new text waiting for him.

From Shane: I’ll have a Uber carpool us to the airport. We will come to you. Noon tomorrow.

Before Ryan could answer, another text came through.

From Shane: Don’t forget both coats :)

It took seconds for Ryan to type out a reply.

From Ryan: Asshole. 

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Ryan let out a loud groan. “This was such a bad idea,” he muttered to himself. It was going to be one, long week.

~~~

“Did you pick these seats?” Ryan asked, standing behind the row him and Shane were meant to sit in. He had his suitcase in front of him, looking up at the overhead bin.

“Sure did. I’ve got long legs, I need some stretching room. And I wasn’t paying for first class.” It wasn’t like it was that long of a trip. But four hours in a cramped aisle with legs as long as his, made the flight feel much longer.  

“I’m not complaining about economy seats, I’m complaining about the bathrooms being right there.”  And from the looks of it, someone already needed to come back and use it. 

Shane finished shoving his bag into the overhead storage, and gestured for Ryan to hand him his suitcase. 

“I can do it,” Ryan insisted.

“I’m taller. It’s easier.” He jerked the suitcase out of Ryan’s loose grip, grinning. “And it’s not like this is my first choice in seating, but it is the cheapest and had more leg room. Besides, now we can see if anyone is trying to join the mile high club.” 

Ryan made a face. “And that’s something that interests you?” 

“Maybe with the right person,” he answered with a wink.

Turning away, Ryan felt his face heat up. That should not make him blush. He had no reason for it. The idea of it was just-

“So are you going to sit down or what?” Shane asked, brow raised. “You’ve got the window seat.” 

“My favorite,” he muttered sarcastically, sliding into the row. He hated the window seat. Flying didn’t scare him necessarily, but looking out the window, seeing the different mechanics on the wing of the plane move, did. That high up in the air, it didn’t seem right. Which is why he often kept the window closed the entire time. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here to hold your hand if you get nervous,” Shane offered, sitting down next to him. “Even if you make it all sweaty.” 

“You’re so sweet.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Mama Madej raised a gentleman,” Shane told him, as he latched his seatbelt. “And speaking of Mama Madej, she says it’s supposed to snow this week.”

Ryan looked at his phone, checking through things last minute before he had to put it in airplane mode. “Is this your segway into telling me-” he lowered his voice - “hope you brought two coats.” 

Shane laughed. “No, but I hope you brought something other than that sweatshirt. It’s supposed to be rather cold for a few days. And mix that in with snow . . .” 

“I brought a real coat, Shane. This is just something a little lighter for when it’s not that cold.” He put his phone into airplane mode, sliding it into the pouch on the seat in front of him. “And what is with you acting like I’ve never been in snow before? We literally filmed episodes for Unsolved in the snow.” 

“Yes, and you nearly died each time. Your little Californian body wasn’t made for the cold.” He vividly remembered Ryan shivering for almost two hours after they got done filming - back inside the hotel room, under two blankets and fully dressed. Some people just weren’t meant for the cold. 

“I didn’t nearly die,” Ryan argued. 

“Only because I got you to safety,” Shane countered. “I practically had to pick you up and carry you back to the room. I thought you had frozen to the ground.” 

Ryan scoffed. “That’s a bit dramatic. And I’m pretty sure you’re talking about when I slipped on ice and you caught me before I hit the ground. That’s hardly the same thing.” 

Shane only shrugged. “Still saved your life, though.” 

“My hero,” Ryan snorted. But he was pretty sure there was no life saving involved. All he saved him from was humiliation, if that had made it into the final cut of the episode. 

“That’s what they call me,” Shane stated. “So when we get off the plane at O’Hare, and there’s a red carpet rolled out and everyone from my hometown is there with cameras and fruit cake, don’t be alarmed.” 

“Fruit cake? Who the hell even likes fruit cake?” The only thing he knew about fruit cake was that if you ever got any, you left it on the counter until New Year’s Day and then threw it out. You didn’t actually eat it. Just like you didn’t actually eat candy corn during Halloween. 

“Uh, I do.” Shane acted offended. “And my mom makes it for me every year, so when it’s time for dessert after Christmas dinner, I fully expect you to eat some.” 

Ryan leaned forward in his seat, head turned towards Shane. “You seriously like fruit cake?” 

“Yes, Ryan, I do. Is there a problem with that?” 

“I don’t know, maybe. No one actually likes fruit cake. It’s like the candy corn of Christmas.” 

Shane laughed. “You probably like EggNog.” 

“No, I don’t.” Ryan never really liked seasonal foods like that. Unless it was Cadbury Eggs. Those were the only acceptable holiday candy. “But I bet you like candy corn.”

“Sometimes,” Shane admitted. “And I also like Peeps.”

“Something’s not right about you,” Ryan said with a laugh. “You’re Chicago’s hometown hero who likes fruit cake and Peeps.”

“That’s me,” Shane confirmed. “Just don’t tell anyone my secret identity outside of the city.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, just now tuning into the safety instructions the flight attendants were giving. He had been on enough planes to know the drill. Oxygen masks, flotation devices under seats, yada, yada. 

He dug out his headphones, totally intending on listening to music the entire flight. After all, he would have plenty of time to talk to Shane during the week. And he kind of needed something else to think about before they landed in Chicago later. He was already nervous enough about spending the week with Shane’s family, but he was even more nervous about what this meant. 

He tried telling himself all weekend that this was normal. Friends went on vacation with other friends. Friends visited family with other friends. Especially for holidays or get togethers. The only thing that was different about the two of them is that Shane’s family lived so far. It wouldn’t be weird like this if they, too, lived in LA. Right? 

“If you think like that any harder, I might have to tell them to make an emergency landing,” Shane said, breaking Ryan from his thoughts.

“What are you talking about?”

“You put in your headphones in long before we started driving down the taxiway, and you’re not even playing music. You haven’t even opened the music app, and you’ve been staring at the back of the seat without blinking.” 

Ryan looked down at his phone as if the music app was just going to be open. “Do you usually watch me that much?”

“Do you usually think this hard about going on vacation?”

“I hate when you do that.” 

Shane smirked. He knew answering a question with a question drove Ryan insane, but it was easier than admitting that he was always watching him. Even when the man wasn’t conscious of it. Ryan was just . . . Ryan. “Well?”

“Shut up,” Ryan mumbled, opening his music app and hitting shuffle. He turned it up as loud as it would go, drowning out Shane’s chuckles.

~~~

Shane couldn’t help but watch Ryan’s leg bounce as they sat outside the airport in the pickup lane. He hadn’t said anything since stating he had to use the bathroom before they headed outside, which concerned Shane only a little. Was Ryan really that nervous about this trip? He had met Shane’s parents once before, when they visited LA briefly. It wasn’t like this was a first introduction. “Ryan.”

“Hmm?” 

“You’re going to make a hole in the cement if you don’t stop hitting it with the bottom of your shoe.” 

Ryan stopped bouncing his leg, only now realizing he had been doing it. “Oh.”

“Calm down,” Shane said gently. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“There is,” Ryan insisted. “I’m spending a week with you and your family, Shane. I don’t even know them and all they know of me is whatever they watch on YouTube. That’s not exactly a great first impression of anyone.” Yeah, that’s how he acted when he was with Shane, but there was more to him than what he presented for the cameras. He wasn’t always that much of a sarcastic shit. Most of that was for the entertainment of the show. “And don’t tell me they’ve never seen it, because you told me they watch every episode.” Which did nothing to soothe his nerves. 

“YouTube is our job, Ryan. Well, for the most part. They don’t judge you based on what you’re doing for a living. Do you think they like seeing me taunting ghosts into killing me in violent ways? They know I’m not really asking for death. Though my mom did ask me once if I really had to ask to die by getting my spinal cord ripped out.”

Ryan groaned. “Shane-”

“Ryan, it’s fine, I promise. It’s just my parents. And believe it or not, they’re excited that you actually agreed to come with me. They want to get to know you.” For reasons Shane didn’t feel like disclosing at this time. Or ever.

“But why?” 

Shane shrugged. “Probably because you’re my friend and coworker who I do just about everything with. It’s totally normal for parents to want to know who their child spends most of their time with.”

“Even if that child is thirty-three and lives on the other side of the country?” Ryan asked.

“Precisely.” 

Meanwhile, Ryan’s parents decided to go on a Christmas vacation to Europe and not tell him about it until last week. Not that he had any huge Christmas traditions to attend to, but it was still Christmas. The one time a year you actually spent with your family and at least pretended to enjoy their company, even if you didn’t. It made up for the rest of the year you never saw them. And yeah, Ryan saw his family way more often than Shane ever saw his, but the point was it's the holidays. 

A silver Honda pulled up to the curb, right where they were sitting, and an excited older woman quickly pushed open the passenger side door and squealed in excitement. "Shane! My baby!" She ran towards him, gathering him in a tight hug. 

"Mom," Shane greeted with a laugh, hugging her back. 

God, this was really happening, Ryan thought. 

Shane pulled back, a smile still etched on his face. He stepped to the side, revealing Ryan's sitting form on the bench. "Mom, this is Ryan. Forgive him if he babbles any nonsense or nothing at all. He's a bit nervous." Which was very endearing, Shane thought. For someone who was so extroverted at the office and at home in general, he was sure quiet and extra shy here. 

"Thanks, Shane," Ryan sniped, standing up to properly greet Shane's mom. 

Sherry laughed, pulling Ryan in for a hug before he could hold out his hand for a shake. "Ignore him. My son likes to make others squirm." 

Ryan laughed nervously. "Don't I know it." He relaxed just a bit, hugging her back. He didn't expect her to be so . . . Welcoming. 

"Alright, Mom, I think Ryan might die if you keep hugging him." He was still smiling, taking note of the way Ryan's shoulders relaxed just a little at the hug. He told him there was nothing to worry about. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sherry apologized quickly, stepping back. "I didn't think to ask if you were big on touchiness." 

"No, no, it's fine. I'm not opposed to hugging," Ryan reassured. "It just caught me off guard." 

Shane laughed, despite himself. "Ryan thought you and Dad were going to give him a black eye or something upon arrival." 

"I did not!" Ryan argued, smacking Shane on the arm. 

Sherry shot Shane a look of disapproval, which only made his smile widen. "I believe you, Ryan. Shane has a way of making things sound more dramatic than they are." 

"What!?" Shane sputtered. "If anything, Ryan is the one who's all dramatic." 

"Please, Shane. You act like I didn't raise you and your siblings for nearly two decades." 

"Mom-" 

"Put your luggage in the car. I'm sure Ryan is tired of standing in the cold." She opened the back door, gesturing for Ryan to climb inside. 

Sticking out his tongue at Shane, he climbed into the backseat, letting the warmth of the heater seep into his skin. 

Sherry got back into the passenger's seat, shutting the door and letting the cold air go with it. "Ryan, this is my husband, John." 

It was then Ryan suddenly realized he was meeting Shane's other parent without him. "Uh, hi, I'm Ryan." This time, he did stick out his hand between the two front seats, which John took with a firm grasp in his left hand. 

"John. This meeting was far overdue," he stated, sharing a look with Sherry. 

The other door opened, and Shane climbed inside, witnessing the scene before him. "Too good to come outside and greet us, Dad?" 

"I'm not trying to freeze my balls off this early in the winter, Shane." 

Sherry rolled her eyes, reaching for the seatbelt, while Shane and Ryan both laughed from the backseat. 

"That's why you wear two coats," Shane supplied, glancing over at Ryan who was glowering. "I tried telling Ryan here he would need them, but he never listens." 

"You make it sound like we are staying in an igloo in Alaska. I've experienced the winter before, as I've reminded you ten times." But yeah, it had been pretty cold while they had been out there waiting. He missed the sunshine already. 

Sherry laughed, looking at the two of them in the rearview mirror. "We also have heat in our house, in case Shane forgot to mention that this isn't barbaric times." 

Ryan nudged at Shane, buckling up. So maybe this wasn't that bad. His parents were actually pretty nice and were treating him like they had known him for years. And suddenly, he didn't know what he had been so nervous about. 

Maybe it was a weekend away from home. Maybe it was the lack of his own family around the holidays. Or maybe it was the idea of spending one of the most intimate holidays with his best friend and his family. 

He froze at the thought. He never thought of Christmas as being intimate before. Yeah, it was a time reserved for family and loved ones, but did that - wait -

"Ryan?" Shane whispered. "Stop."

Clearing his throat, Ryan forced his gaze to land on Shane, who happened to be leaning in rather close. "Stop what?" 

"Sending yourself into an internal panic. Whatever you're thinking about, it's not that deep." 

Ryan sighed with frustration. He hated how Shane could read him so well. No one else ever seemed to be able to tell when he was having an internal battle with himself. "I'm fine." 

"Are you?" 

"Yes."

Shane raised a brow. "Then why are you gripping onto your jeans for dear life?" 

Ryan instantly unclenched his hands, wiping the sweat off his palms. He didn't realize he had been gripping his knees that hard. "I'm fine." 

"Whatever you say." Shane pulled away, leaning against the door of the car. He knew better than to push Ryan for answers, but he had a hunch it was the silence of his parent's that sent Ryan spiraling into his thoughts. He never did too well with utter silence, which was always proved in the supernatural episodes they filmed. 

It was a conscious effort to keep his leg from bouncing as he looked out the window at the city passing by. He had never spent actual time in Chicago, but the skyscrapers were sure a sight to behold. It made him sort of awestruck, despite being in cities before. There was just . . . Something different about this one. 

Because it's Shane's, a nagging voice whispered in the back of his mind. 

He forced the thought away. It wasn't Shane's city. It's not like he owned it. But the way he had talked about it . . .from the pizza to the Bean . . . The whole thing just screamed his name. Like the city wasn't his, but rather the city was him. 

Shane silently watched Ryan take in the city outside, unknowingly smiling at the expression he wore. Like the whole city mesmerized him. And it was weird, really, because Ryan has been to many big cities for work. There was really nothing different about Chicago. So what had Ryan so enamored by the towering buildings outside? 

"We can walk around in the town tomorrow, if you like," Shane offered. "The Windy City has lots to offer." 

"That sounds like a lovely day," Sherry commented from the front seat. "You two should stay out until dark and see how it's decorated. Quite beautiful, if you ask me. Nothing like Time's Square in New York, but still pretty." 

That sounds awfully close to a -

"I'd like that," Ryan spoke, dissolving whatever thought was about to cross through Shane's head. "I mean, LA is decorated and stuff too, but it's not really the same as it is here. Probably. Since there's no snow, and it's still kind of warm, and it ruins the whole vibe that the holidays-" 

"Ryan," Shane chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We get it. LA sucks for having holiday vibes." 

"You forget the Fourth of July exists," Ryan reminded. 

"True, but that's probably the only good holiday you can really feel in LA. Everything else is bleh." Which is why he loved visiting home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was cold out, and snowed quite often. There was something different about seeing Christmas lights under the fallen snow. You couldn't get that in LA. "And before you act all offended, you'll see what I mean at the end of the week. I'll have you begging to come with me on every winter holiday." 

Ryan rolled his eyes. "You mean all two of them?" 

"I grouped Thanksgiving into it, since it's so close to December anyway. But that one feels different too." And New Years was a whole other ballgame. 

"I don't think you get to decide what seasons the holidays fall under." 

Shane grinned "As the hometown hero, I think I do." 

From the front seat, both John and Sherry snorted. But it was Sherry who said, "Hometown hero? I have to hear this one." 

Ryan suppressed the giggle that threatened to come out. He pressed his lips tightly together, watching as the tips of Shane's ears turned pink. 

"What did I say about giving my identity away?" Shane mumbled so only Ryan could hear. "Now I have to tell my family and put them in danger." 

Ryan couldn't help but slap Shane, letting out the laugh he had been holding back. "But it was okay if I knew? I was allowed to be in danger?" 

"I can protect you. You're rather small and easy to shield." 

"I'm average height, man. It's you who's weird." And in more ways than one. Were they seriously having this conversation in the backseat of his parent's car? They sounded like two children playing some stupid pretend game. 

"Well, you're in luck! Now is your chance to complain to my makers about my height." Shane gestured to the two in the front seats, palm facing up. 

Disgruntled, Ryan said, "Dude, don't make it sound like you're an alien. Your makers, really?" 

"I agree, Shane," Sherry piped up. "I'm still your mother, despite how old you may be." 

"Sorry, Mom." Shane shot Ryan a look that was meant to be threatening, but all it looked like was a fool who couldn't stop laughing over something that wasn't even that funny. 

Twenty minutes later, they pulled onto a street where the houses were widely spaced apart, allowing enough privacy in between homes. It wasn't like the neighborhoods back in LA, where the houses were so crammed together, you could barely mow the strip of grass that separated them. Of course, the more expensive neighborhoods weren't like that, but not everyone could afford to live in such luxury. Hence why Ryan rented out his apartment year after year. No lawn to maintain, no neighbors peeping in his window, and most importantly, he could still afford food after paying rent and utilities without going broke. 

Almost every house they drove by had decorations out front, tangled in shrubs or dangling from the gutters. There was some snow on the ground from the last time it fell, but not enough to completely cover up the grass that still lingered. It was in that gross stage of melting during the day and refreezing every night. 

“This is a nice neighborhood,” Ryan commented. He wished he grew up in something like this. Instead, he had lived in one of those “double jointed” houses where the only thing separating you from your neighbor was a two car garage. 

“Thanks, it’s where I grew up,” Shane answered, looking out the window. “Our house is at the end. It has the most yard and furthest neighbors.” He liked the solitude out here. It was definitely a different pace than where he lived now. But both places had different things he liked. 

“You trying to brag?” Ryan joked.

“No, but when you’re little and have that much space, it’s like the world outside was endless. There’s a forest behind our house too, which only adds to all the space to discover.”

“Although,” Sherry butted in, “I had to chase Shane and his brother down more than once in those woods behind the house. So if you decide to explore them with Shane at some point, I recommend a different tour guide. He will get you in, but not out.” 

At this, Ryan laughed. “Are you that bad at directions?”

“Only when it comes to trees, apparently.” Not entirely true. Back in LA, the only places he knew how to get to by heart where Ryan’s apartment and work. He used an Uber or Lyft for just about everything else, so why bother learning a map when he had people to take him where he wanted to go? “Don’t worry, I won’t get us lost in the big city back there. I know those streets like the back of my hand.”

“Do you?” Ryan asked skeptically. He found that a little hard to believe, but Shane definitely knew more about this place than he did, so that was a start.  

“I know how to get there like the back of my hand,” he corrected. “Google Maps does the rest of the work.” At Ryan’s eye roll, he clarified, “I know how to navigate through the city and around it, but if you wanted to know where a specific store is or something, I most likely wouldn’t know.” 

“Then what’s the story about trees? Why are those hard for you?”

Shane shrugged. “Since we didn’t find the treasure of Forest Fenn, I couldn’t tell you.” 

Ryan groaned loudly. “Are you telling me it was probably your fault we aren’t super rich and living in Beverly Hills right now? Because you can’t navigate around trees?” 

“That’s what you were there for!” Shane tried to argue. “You were the guide, I was the treasure hunter.” 

“You can’t do that either!” 

“To be fair, no one else can, either, since it’s still out there.” But damn, would it have been nice to find that treasure. Not just for the riches, but for the sake of saying they found it. Two goons from Buzzfeed found the infamous Forest Fenn treasure that’s been hidden for literal years. 

They pulled into the gravel driveway then, and the car shut off. “Home sweet home,” John announced, throwing off the seatbelt. 

“Come on, I’ll give you the tour,” Shane said, climbing out of the car. He went around to the trunk, unloading the luggage they brought. He handed Ryan his suitcase, and flung his own duffle bag over his shoulder, slamming the trunk shut afterwards.

Ryan followed him inside wordlessly, letting the wave of cinnamon and cedar slam into his nose upon walking through the doorway. The scent reminded him of . . . “It smells like you,” he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut after the words tumbled out. “I mean . . .”

Shane chuckled, shutting the door behind them. “I haven’t lived here in quite a while, so it’s strange that it would smell like me.” Though he was flattered that his old home reminded Ryan of, well, him. Even though he had no idea what scent Ryan was currently smelling. It always just smelled like his parent’s house to him. “But out of curiosity,” he continued, noting Ryan’s obvious embarrassment, “what do I smell like?” He hoped it wasn’t bad. 

“Cinnamon,” Ryan actually answered. “And . . . wood.” 

“Wood?” Shane laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah? And what do people normally tell you what you smell like?” he jabbed. 

“Good.”

“Just good?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, Ryan, just good,” Shane replied with a smile. “Most people comment on my aftershave or something. So it’s just good.” He didn’t know Ryan associated certain smells with him. The idea of it made his heart pound a little harder than normal. Hm. 

An obvious blush creeped up Ryan’s cheeks. Why did he have to be so weird? At least no one else had been around to witness that. Like his parents. Ryan would have had to crawl into a hole to die if they had heard that confession. He didn’t even know why he said that. Stupid. 

“We can start with the basement here,” Shane continued on, as if the previous conversation didn’t just happen. Ryan didn’t know if he should be thankful or annoyed. “Our rooms are actually down here, but I will warn you ahead of time so you don’t get all sequealy a few days from now, but we will probably have to end up sharing one for a couple of days when the rest of the fam visits.”

Ryan gave him a look. “Why would I get all squealy, as you so nicely put it?” 

Smirking, Shane answered, “Because you would claim I never warned you and get all defensive about it. So this was your warning.” He led him past the stairs, into a small hallway where three doors were found. “That one’s the bathroom.” He pointed to the door between the other two, 

“We’ve shared a bed before, Shane,” Ryan said flatly. “How is now any different?” They had slept next to one another countless times - even in the same bed for certain shoots for Unsolved. 

“Because this time, it’s in my childhood room.” Shane twisted the knob and pushed open the door, revealing a rather plain room.

Ryan stepped inside, past Shane, looking around. There was a queen sized bed against the wall in the center of the room, with one dresser which had a mirror attached. “Boring then as you are now.” 

Shane snorted. “Clearly they made it into a guest room when I left home, Ryan. Did you really think I had beige walls and a lace quilt?” He slung his bag onto the bed. 

“I don’t know, man. You do some questionable things.” 

“Like what?” 

“You like Peeps and fruit cake for one,” Ryan stated. “And, two, you literally wore a denim jacket over a black turtleneck. In California.” 

Shane shrugged. “I was cold.”

“I thought you were immune to the cold?” 

“I’m not Elsa. I can still get chilly,” Shane defended. 

“Still, even you know that’s not normal.” Ryan set his suitcase against the wall, despite Shane telling him he would have his own room for a few days. He would get it later. 

Jumping off the bed, Shane gestured for Ryan to follow. "On with the rest of the tour!" He went across the hall, pushing open the other door. "Here's where you will sleep for two days. Hope it's not too boring for your stay." 

"I'm just sleeping in here. It's not like I'm throwing a raging party. It doesn't matter how it looks." Ryan scowled. 

"Then why are you complaining about my old bedroom?" Shane asked. 

"Because it's yours," he answered simply. 

Shane rolled his eyes, closing the bedroom door and heading back down the hall. The rest of the basement was relatively unlived in, but still had a couch and TV nonetheless. "We mostly hang out upstairs, but you're more than welcome to hang out down here if you need to." What he didn't say was if you need a minute to breathe. It was no secret to Shane just how nervous Ryan had been to come here. But his friend was nervous at a lot of places. He always knew how to make him relax, even if it was only a little. 

"I don't think it would be very polite of me to sit down here, alone, while the rest of you are upstairs," Ryan pointed out. 

"Everyone needs a little personal space, Ryan." Shane held in a snicker, mainly because Ryan wouldn't know what was so amusing. Shane had made it very clear - on multiple occasions - to his parents, that Ryan was a bit of an over thinker and stressed himself out. With a little personal space and quiet time, he would work it out in his head himself. "No one here is going to think you're snooty if you come down here for a minute. Except maybe my aunt." 

Ryan groaned outwardly. "Shane." 

"Ryan."

He didn't smile. "I'm already freaked out over your parents upstairs, and the thought of meeting the rest of your family is about to launch me into another realm. And you're telling me your aunt probably thinks I'm snooty." 

Shane busted out in laughter. "I did not say that. I said she might think that if you came to hide down here. And she's the only one who will think that. But we only see her once a year anyway, so it doesn't matter. And you never have to see her outside of this." 

Implying that Ryan might see her again, but only once a year. The thought didn't escape Ryan's mind, and it was just another thing to overthink when he crawled into bed tonight. 

"And for someone whose career revolves around putting yourself on the internet for the entire world to judge, you sure seem extra upset about a few members of my family and what they might think," Shane observed. 

"Okay, and?" 

A smile broke out on Shane's lips, but it wasn't one of joy. It was completely cocky. Arrogant. Like he already knew the answer but still wanted to know, "Why?" 

And Ryan couldn't even come up with a good reason as to why. Shane wasn't wrong - not at all. It was his life on the internet that kept him employed. And well paid. But it was like all those times they filmed anything - whether it be a Q&A, True Crime or Supernatural episode for Unsolved - it felt like the cameras weren't even there. It was like it was just him and Shane. No one else was watching. No one else was there. 

It was as if being with Shane made everything else . . . Disappear. Any fears. Anxieties. Nerves. 

Every haunted location ended the same way. Having him there made Ryan forget just how scared he was supposed to be. 

Ryan ended up saying, "It's your family." 

"So?" Shane quirked a brow. 

"So it's different." But why? The thought had been rattling around in his skull the entire weekend, and he still didn't have an answer for it. 

The air between them was growing thick, and it was clear that neither of them were going to admit anything anytime soon, so Shane said, "Let's head upwards," and beelined for the stairs. 

Ryan followed behind, looking over the family photos along the wall as he walked up the stairs. A number of them included Shane, while others included his brother and cousins. 

There was one particular photo, however, that made Ryan stop his ascent to stare. It was a photo of Shane on the beach, maybe a few years younger than he was now. He was with his mom and dad, smiling like a big goof as his entire body had been buried in the sand, only his head visible. Ryan knew he hadn't been there, but the setting was one he had seen plenty of times in his life. It was-

"See something you like?" Shane stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at Ryan who was only halfway up. 

"You don't like the beach," he stated, pointing at the photo. "I've tried to get you to go there multiple times and you said you don't do sand. But you live in fucking California." The idea always baffled him. 

Shane snorted, going back down the stairs to look at the photo that caught Ryan's attention. He remembered that day the second he looked at the picture. "That was the last time I went to the beach, too. That was three years ago, when my parents came to visit me in Cali. You saw them then." 

Oh yeah! That had been the same time he saw them briefly? "I don't even think we spoke." If they did, Ryan sure didn't remember it. Which is why he had been treating this current trip as if he had never met his parents before. Because he hadn't. Not really. 

"They were at the office. For like, five seconds. But they saw you sitting at your desk with your headphones on while I grabbed something I left there earlier. I tried to say something to you, but you swatted me away and muttered something about being busy, so stop bothering me," he mocked in a high pitched tone. 

"I don't sound like that."

"You do when you're on a deadline." Shane smirked. "You become so high strung, your voice goes up and octave or two." 

"It does not."

"It does." 

"No, it doesn't!" 

"See, it's happening now and we've barely made it up the stairs."

"Shane, I swear to God-" 

"If you two boys are done bullying each other, I'd like to discuss dinner plans for tonight," a new voice said. 

Ryan and Shane both turned their heads to look up the stairs, finding Sherry standing at the top of them with her hands on his hips. While Ryan turned a deep shade of red, the smirk on Shane's face didn't falter as he said, "I thought we were getting pizza from that place downtown." 

Sherry's eyes lit up. "I forgot all about that! Yes, we can do pizza. Should we order in?" 

Shane glanced over his shoulder at Ryan. "Actually, me and Ryan can go pick it up." 

"Are you sure? You've traveled most of the afternoon. Aren't you tired?" 

Shane shrugged. "It was only four hours. That's nothing compared to half the fights we take for work purposes." Traveling to the furthest point of the United States from California could be taxing. Especially all the times they've been to Florida. Those flights seemed to be especially long. He turned to face Ryan, asking, "If that's fine with you?" 

Ryan smiled. "Yeah, that's fine." 

In truth, Shane figured they could kill two birds with one stone. He had been dying to get pizza ever since he planned his trip out here, and when Ryan finally agreed to come along, he knew he had to take him there. It was the best pizza he ever had, and as someone who enjoys food just as much as his friend, Shane knew Ryan would die after tasting one slice. No place makes it quite like Chicago. New York being a close second. 

Not only that, but this way, they got to take a small tour of the city without it being so . . . Planned. No one just wakes up and makes plans to take their friend into the city for a tour, and Shane's mom knew exactly that when she suggested it. And much to his luck, Ryan didn't seem to catch on. In fact, when he had said that sounded like a nice idea, Shane's heart nearly fell into his ass. Maybe Ryan had no idea what he was agreeing to. Or maybe he did and that was the point. Either way, Shane was too chicken to act on it, and Ryan seemed to be just as oblivious to it, too. There was no doubt in Shane's mind that his mom had intentionally invited Ryan for this very reason, but Shane extended the invitation for reasons of his own, and they didn't line up with his mom's. 

Okay, maybe they did. Only a little. But it wasn't at the forefront in his mind when he initially extended the invitation. 

"Let's finish the tour and we can decide what kind of pizza we want," Shane announced, heading back up the stairs. 

With one last glance at the photo, Ryan bounded up the steps behind Shane, hit with the scent of pine as he walked through the archway of the main living room. 

There was a rather large Christmas tree in the far corner, covered in colorful lights and what looked like homemade decorations. It was . . . Cozy, actually. Ryan's mom usually put up a small tree with white lights and nothing more. Something about it being classy and sleek. A simple tree. But this tree made it look more like . . . Home. Like the Christmases he remembered from when he was little. When the holiday actually meant something to his family. 

"My mom will probably fall over dead if you tell her you like the tree," Shane whispered, following Ryan's gaze. "It's probably her favorite thing in the entire house." 

"It's . . ." Ryan didn't know what word he wanted. Beautiful didn't cut it, because that's not what he'd use to describe it, but it certainly wasn't ugly. He just . . . Liked it. The colors of the lights, the plush decorations here and there, scattered in with some made of popsicle sticks and googly eyes. 

Shane raised his brows, clearly waiting for an answer. He knew his mom was listening in, but pretended like she wasn't watching, waiting to burst with excitement over a compliment. 

"Home," Ryan blurted, feeling his face heat up. 

Well, that certainly wasn't the answer Shane was expecting. He didn't get the chance to say anything before Ryan was scrambling over his words, trying to explain himself. 

"I mean - home like - the tree is homey? But its covered in homemade decorations, some of which look years old, and it's just - it's very home for you, not for me, because it's not my home, but it's yours, so it's -" 

"Breathe, Ryan," Shane laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know what you mean. And so do they." He flicked his other hand to his parents who were sitting on the couch, side by side. 

"I'm glad you love it!" Sherry exclaimed. "I can't wait to put it up every year. All the decorations are from year's worth of the kids making them. From the time they were in preschool to . . ." She trailed off, casting a glance at Shane. 

"Up to last year," Shane supplied, letting his hand slowly slide off Ryan's shoulder, his fingers grazing down his arm. 

Ryan pretended like he didn't notice the lingering touch of Shane's fingers down the sleeve of his arm, and he was certain that if he had been wearing short sleeves, the contact would have sent shivers down his spine. 

"It's sort of a tradition," Shane explained. "Usually on Christmas Eve. We sit at the kitchen table and make Christmas ornaments. Some families bake cookies, we make decorations." He grinned, eyes twinkling. "And mom makes fruit cake." 

Ryan snorted before coughing, trying to cover it up. He turned to Sherry, who had a wide smile plastered on her face. "Do you really make Shane fruit cake?" 

She laughed, gripping John's hand. "I do. He and John are literally the only people I know who actually like it."

"Ha!" Ryan spun on Shane, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I told you it's like candy corn." 

"Like what!? Candy corn?" Sherry choked out. 

Rolling his eyes, Shane said, "He says it's like the candy corn of Christmas. Nobody likes it but they pretend to since it's a holiday special. Which is real funny, considering this guy-" he jabbed Ryan back in the chest- "likes Peeps."

Sherry and John's faces both twisted in disgust. 

"I do not!" Ryan shouted, pulling his arm back to swing on him, but Shane caught his arm before it could land a hit to his shoulder. "You told me you liked Peeps!" 

"Ryan, those things are disgusting. Satan hand crafted those himself."

Ryan scowled, but it looked very non threatening since he still has a smile on his face. He shook his arm loose from Shane's grasp, letting it fall back to his side. "Anyway, I do like the tree," he finished, going back to the conversation at hand. "It's very personal." 

"Thank you, Ryan. It looks like you'll get to add your own little something to it, too, since you're here with us." 

Before Ryan could protest like Shane knew he was about to do, he said, "Yeah, Ryan, I want to see how ugly of an ornament you can make to throw off the beauty of the tree." 

"Please," Sherry scoffed, getting up off the couch. She walked over to the tree and reached behind it, pulling out . . . Ryan wasn't sure what. "This was Shane's creation. From two years ago. It's on the back for a reason." She handed it to Ryan.

"Uh. What is this?" 

Shane plucked the ornament from Ryan's hand. "It was supposed to be incinerated at a dump somewhere." He gave a look to his mom, who only shrugged in response. "It's not my finest art, but the rest of the tree has a lot more to show for it." He hated this ornament for many reasons. Reasons he didn't want to remember, or disclose to Ryan. 

"It's not that bad," Ryan said, trying to make him feel better. 

"You can't even attempt a guess at what it is, that's how awful it looks," Shane commented. He laughed a little as he studied it. "I actually don't even know what I was trying to make." He ended up telling Ryan a little of what resulted in this. "I was having a bad time in my head, despite the holiday cheer. I guess I just wasn't feeling it when we made these." He handed the ornament back to Ryan, not discussing it any further. Instead, he quickly said, "Wait! Come with me." He grabbed Ryan's arm and dragged him along, through the kitchen and through a set of double glass doors. 

Ryan was only just now aware of the ornament still in his hand, and he placed it in the single pocket on his sweatshirt. He would give it back to Sherry when they went inside. And speaking of inside . . . "Why are we out here? It's fucking cold." He could see his breath in the air with every word. 

"It's only for a minute. Look." Shane pointed towards the woods, which, in the winter sunset, it looked almost . . . Magical. Like walking through there would transport you into another world entirely. It was no wonder that Shane and his brother would get lost in there. 

Snow still clung onto the bare branches, weighing them down only a little. The sun cast an orange glow through the sticks, and if this is what it looked like with old snow, Ryan wondered what it looked like with a blanket of fresh snow. 

The lights wrapped around the deck railings turned on, startling Ryan. 

"Timer," Shane laughed. "This isn't even a haunted place, either. Take it easy." 

"It could be," Ryan muttered, stuffing his bare hands in his jean pockets. Damn was it cold. 

"I lived here my entire childhood and well into adulthood, Ryan. If it was haunted, I think I would have experienced some paranormal activity." He walked back to the doors, Ryan in tow. The blast of heat from the house warmed their faces, and Ryan was doing his best not to let his teeth chatter. Shane decided not to comment on it, instead saying, "The rest of the house is just bedrooms and bathrooms. The bathroom up here is just down the hall, first door on the right, and the other is inside my parent's room. You can use that one if the other is occupied. They don't care." 

The two of them went back into the living room, Shane throwing himself onto the nearest chair, his legs hanging over the armrest. 

John rolled his eyes. "Really, Shane, how old are you?" 

"I can't believe my dad doesn't remember my own age," Shane fake pouted. 

"Sometimes I wonder if you're forever stuck at seventeen," his dad muttered. 

"I usually go more with twelve," Ryan said, sitting down on the chair across from Shane. 

"See, that's how you sit on furniture, Shane." 

"Yeah, when you're not relaxed," Shane fired back, shooting a grin over at Ryan, who scowled in return. 

Just for that, Ryan leaned back in the chair and slunk down, trying to act like he was at home. He could do this. Relax. Be comfortable. Shane was right there. It's not like he was left alone with only John to talk to. 

Shane snickered. "Okay, okay. Let's talk pizza." 

Thank God, Ryan thought. Not only was he starving, but he needed something normal to soften the blow of the next few not so normal days. 

Or no, wait. It was normal. That's what he convinced himself of, right? This was normal. This was fine. 

And the wall in his mind separating normal from not normal was strong and thick and totally not crumbling with every passing minute he spent inside Shane's childhood home. 

"We want the usual," Sherry said. "Deluxe. But only a medium. Unless you guys eat the same thing. Then get a large. We don't need pizza boxes clogging up the fridge with only Christmas dinner a few days away." 

"Ryan eats deluxe, too, just without the mushrooms," Shane informed. 

"Get a large one then, no mushrooms. We don't need them." Half the time she plucked them off anyway. "If that's okay with the two of you." 

"Works for me," Ryan said. 

"Great!" Shane shot up from his seat, and with two long strides, stood in front of Ryan's chair. He stretched his arm out, palm up. 

OhGodohGod don't overthink it. Slowly, Ryan put his hand out, and the second it touched Shane's, the man closed his hand around Ryan's and squeezed, pulling him up off the chair. 

The feeling sent tingles up his arm, and he couldn't help the way his hand clenched around Shane's for only a moment before the other let go. 

"We will be back in . . . Let's say an hour." 

Sherry raised her brow. "An hour? It takes fifteen minutes max to get there." 

"Yes, but there's something else we need to do first. Don't worry, the pizza will still be hot when we return home." 

"That's not what I'm worried about," she muttered. "You know where the keys are. Be safe, have fun, the works." 

With a smile, Shane gave her a salute and headed back down towards the stairs, plucking the car keys off the hook at the bottom. 

"Uh, what else are we doing?" Ryan asked. 

Shane opened the door, gesturing for Ryan to walk out first. "It's a surprise." 

"I hate your surprises," Ryan told him. "They usually end with me screaming and you laughing." He paused on the gravel of the driveway, hands in his pockets. 

"If this one ends in screaming, you might need some therapy. I promise there's nothing scary or frightening about where we're going. Unless you're afraid of blades."

Ryan's eyes widened. "Excuse me? What? Blades? Shane, what the fu-" 

"Shh," Shane laughed. "Come on." He hopped into the driver's seat and fired up the car, cranking the heat. 

"I think I know where we are going." Ryan buckled his seatbelt and looked over at Shane. 

"Do some research before traveling, did you?" Shane backed out of the carport, throwing a glance Ryan's way. 

"No." Yes. "Maybe." He had been curious about what else there was around here, besides look at the tall buildings and buy things from bootleggers on the sidewalks. 

"I know you. And I know you probably researched the entire city and my neighborhood to make sure there was no strange activity or old ass murders afoot." 

"I didn't do all that," Ryan mumbled. He highly doubted Shane was going to bring him to some crime ridden alley anyway. Not with his own fear of getting stabbed with heroine needles. Then again, that fear had to have stemmed from somewhere. 

"But you did look at what there is to do in the city, yes?" 

"Yeah, and the only place that involves blades and is open to the public is the ice skating rink around the Christmas tree in the center of the town." He had no idea why Shane wanted to take him there of all places. Neither of them ice skate. Or wanted to. Ryan knew he would just be bad at it, and Shane had once complained that he was too tall and unproportionate to keep any sort of balance on ice. Not only that, but that was a place for parents to take their kids. Or couples to go on a date. And since neither of them were . . . That, then-

"Yes, that's where we are going. However, we are not getting on the rink today. I just said the blades thing to give ya a good scare." 

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Quit being an ass." 

"Or what?"

"Or I'll tell your mom how mean you were to me when we get back home." 

Shane felt his heart stutter when Ryan referred to his old house as home. It hadn't been his home in nearly a decade, but the mere thought of the two of them returning home - to the same place - made his chest feel funny. To go out on an evening like this, even if it was just on an errand to pick up pizza, and then to go home . . . 

No. He had to stop thinking like this. Ryan is his friend. Has been for years. That's all it was. All it ever would be. Though sometimes he wondered what it would be like if maybe it wasn't just that. Sometimes he felt like it wasn't just that. But he was too scared to say anything about it in fears of reading things wrong. Then it would all go down the shitter from there and ruin a lot of things. What they had going now, the genuineness of Unsolved. It would just be awkward. Weird. So he was keeping it bottled, like he had been for two years now. 

He was over it, mostly. At least, that's what he thought after he took out his own frustrations on that ugly Christmas ornament Ryan had seen. It's why he wanted it incinerated somewhere. Not hung up on the tree. It only reminded him of what he couldn't have. 

But two years ago was a long time for things to change. If someone told him two years from then, Ryan would be celebrating the very same holiday, doing the very same tradition of making a Christmas ornament with his family . . . He would have died laughing. 

And maybe he would have tried a little harder when making that ornament to begin with. But he had let out his feelings and frustrations on that ugly fucking thing, and it helped. It's true what they say; art let's you express yourself. And he had been mad then. Upset. Sad. But he had talked to his mom about his feelings and felt instantly better. 

However, it was clear that this year, she didn't forget about that talk, either. Shane knew exactly what she was trying to do, but didn't say anything since she hadn't pushed too hard. Yet. 

"What makes you think she will side with you? I'll just tell her you were bullying me first." He stuck out his tongue, similar to the way Ryan had done when his parents picked them up at the airport this afternoon. 

"Forever twelve," Ryan said under his breath. 

"I am the baby of the family," Shane informed. "I can get away with it all." 

"Is that so?" 

"Yes, but let's test this theory another time." 

Ryan scoffed. "Yeah. Another time." 

"This is the holiday for cheer! Fun! Family! We can't taint it by doing bad things. Santa may bring me coal." 

Fuck! Ryan knew he forgot something. Or a lot of something. He literally hadn't brought anyone a single gift, despite knowing what he was coming out here for. He was so fucked. He hadn't realized he groaned outwardly until Shane said something.

"It's only coal, Ryan. It's not that big of a deal."

Ryan shot him a look. "What do you guys normally do on Christmas Day, besides dinner? You make ornaments on Christmas Eve, but what about after?" 

Shane's fingers tapped the steering wheel, along to the beat of the radio that was barely turned up. "We usually sit on the couch and watch Christmas movies that play on every channel on TV. Normally we always have to argue with Dad when we will watch A Christmas Story. Do we watch it first? Middle? Last? It is a classic and can't be skipped. But that's usually it. Why?"

He hated to admit anything about gift giving, because he didn't know where he stood or how fucking awkward it would be for everyone involved. Thankfully, it must have been written all over his face since Shane answered his question without even being asked. 

"Any sort of gift exchanging is done in private. We used to sit in the living room and do it as a group, but it always took too long and everyone would argue about this or that, so we changed the rules to doing it in private so the disappointment isn't written all over your face in front of everyone. And before you give me some winded explanation about it, it's fine if you didn't bring anyone a gift, including me. No one expects you to. And it is optional. Christmas is more about the family than it is the gifts. Hence why we do silly little things. Like make the ornaments or watch movies. It's far more memorable than getting a giftcard to Chipotlé or something." And though he wouldn't say as much to Ryan, this Christmas was already more meaningful and memorable than any other he's had before. At least in his adulthood. 

Ryan slumped back down in his seat. He was saved this time, but if there was ever a next time. He would be sure to get gifts for everyone. Well, Shane and his parents. He was going to have to do something, since they were so nice inviting him over for the holiday. He couldn't just say, "Thanks! Bye!" And fly back to California. 

They were in the city in no time, and Ryan couldn't help it as his eyes looked up at the tall buildings they drove by. Most of them had lights around the top or giant wreaths hanging somewhere in the center, and it was already more beautiful than any display LA put together. Just due to the sound of ocean waves and sand trailing into almost every store there was. It's hard to feel christmassy there. 

"I'm no parallel parking expert, so we are going to the parking garage down the street," Shane stated. He looked over at Ryan, seeing the same expression he wore on his face only hours earlier when he looked out at the same city. "Sorry to kill the view." 

"I'm sure it looks better outside the car anyway." 

They pulled into the garage, Shane going around in circles past every floor. "I know you have something to say. I can feel you staring at me." 

"We've passed like, seventy empty spaces on the lower floors. Why do you keep going up?" It would just be a longer walk. Well, maybe not. There was an elevator. But it would be extra windy. The city had a nickname for a reason. 

"You'll see." 

"You're trying to make me freeze to death, aren't you? Is this how I die? Not from some stupid shit you asked the demons to do to us, but from the cold winter of Chicago?" 

Shane laughed. "If I wanted to do that, I'd ask you to explore the woods behind my house with me. We'd never make it back before hypothermia set in." He thought for a second, or maybe he didn't, since what he said next made him want to jump out of the car and ask, what the fuck? "But I'd give up my body heat for you before that happened." 

Ryan's eyes went wide, but he tried not to read into it too much and . . . Too late, he did. "You'd huddle on top of me to keep me warm?" 

"Well I wouldn't let you die." It was too late to go back now. Might as well say what was on his mind. 

"Thanks, I guess." Ryan laughed nervously. 

"You guess?" 

"I mean . . . If you took me out there in the first place, it was to let me die, which is what you just said." 

Jesus Christ, Ryan! Shane wanted to yell. That wasn't the point. "Maybe that would be a fake attempt at saving you, in the event we were found before death." He pulled into a free space, shifting the car in park. "Anyway, look." 

Ryan looked out the window, seeing that they were at the very top of the parking garage, practically level with some of the buildings in the city. The sun was completely gone now, but the city was as bright as ever. 

"Looks better if we get out of the car." Shane had shut it off and unbuckled, waiting for Ryan to do the same. 

"I think I might literally get blown off the top of this garage if I step outside." He could already hear the wind howling up here, and it didn't sound promising. 

Shane studied him for a moment before exclaiming, "Ryan Bergara, are you afraid of heights?" 

"No!" Ryan said quickly. "I'm afraid of getting launched off an eight story parking garage."

"You are!" 

"I'm not!" 

"Why won't you get out of the car, then? And don't tell me it's because it's cold. It's cold on the street below like it is up here. Windy, too." He couldn't believe it. He had known Ryan for years and not once had the man ever expressed a distaste for heights. 

"We've been to high up places before," Ryan pointed out, ignoring Shane's question. "Like those lighthouses. And that door that leads to a twenty foot drop at the Winchester house." 

He had a point, and yet . . . "It's not that windy, Ryan. I won't let it sweep you away." He had no idea why Ryan's sudden fear of heights was just now showing. He got out of the car and went over to Ryan's side, pulling open the door. "Come on." He offered his hand, just like he had when he pulled Ryan up from the chair. 

Hesitantly, Ryan took it and climbed out of the car, quickly retracting it to shove his hands in his pockets. 

Shane shut the car door and locked it, gesturing for Ryan to follow him to the edge. "The cement wall is pretty tall, but you can still see over it." 

"I'm not that short," Ryan said over the wind. 

"Need me to pick you up for a better view?" Shane teased, moving swiftly towards Ryan with his arms out. 

"Fuck no! Fuck off, Shane, don't pick me up." He dodged Shane, putting his hands out to shove him back when he got too close yet again. "I'm serious!" 

"Come on, I won't drop ya!"

"Shane, no! Stop it!" 

"Okay, okay," Shane relented, laughing. He really had no intention of picking the man up, and in reality, Ryan could probably bench twice his weight. He could pick Shane up easier than the other way around, most likely. But his stupid plan had worked, and Ryan seemed to forget that they were even eight stories up. "Now look out there."

Ryan followed the pointer of Shane's finger, his eyes finding the huge Christmas tree in the center of town. But it wasn't just that he was looking at. The entire city was just . . . It was beautiful. Lights and wreaths everywhere, lamp posts lit up softly to cast a glow on the pavement. It really did look like a winter wonderland. Or a Hallmark movie, better yet. A fresh blanket of snow would complete the look, but it wasn't meant to snow for another two days. 

"The city always looks better at a distance. It's not as nice up close," Shane said, his eyes glancing over at Ryan. The look on his face was pure wonderment, and Shane wondered if Ryan knew what he looked like, like this. Calm. Free. Content. The man always had some sort of anxiety about him, but at this moment, all of that was washed away. It was just him, Shane, and the lit up city stretched out before them. 

As much as Shane wished he could stare at Ryan like this forever, they had to get the pizza they came all the way out here for. "Let's head down to the street. Walk around a block or two and get that pizza." 

"Yeah," Ryan murmured, turning away from the buzzing city. 

They found the elevator quickly and rode it down to the first floor, crossing through the garage and out the pedestrian side door. The pizza place was literally one block over, but Shane figured they'd take the scenic route and pick it up on their way back towards the garage.

The streets were extra busy, especially around this time of year. Everyone was out getting last minute gifts and trinkets before everything was closed for the holiday. 

"Try not to get lost now," Shane teased. "It's very busy."

"Don't worry, I could spot your giant head two streets over," Ryan shot back. He sidestepped, avoiding a snooty pedestrian who was too busy chatting away on their phone to care about anything else  

"Is that any way to talk to your host for the week?" Shane stopped on the corner of the street, pressing the button for the crosswalk. 

"Your parents are the hosts. You're just the tour guide they got for free. It was a holiday special." 

"How was the flyer advertised? Did my picture look good?" 

Ryan shrugged. "Your head was too big to fit on the flyer, so they had to do without." 

"A shame. Maybe next year I'll do some candy grams and dress up as an elf. Being a tour guide is rather dull." Maybe for anyone else, yeah, but Shane wasn't having a bad time showing Ryan the place he called his home. Not at all. 

"You're too tall for that. I think you'll have to pick something else," Ryan suggested. "Maybe dress up as the actual North fucking Pole."

Shane let out a rather loud wheeze, reaching out for Ryan and grabbing the sleeve of his coat to tug on. The light had switched from the red hand to the man walking, and if they didn't pick up the pace, they'd for sure get run over. People had no mercy around here - at this time of year or any other. 

They crossed the street quickly, both still laughing and smiling. Everything was good. Normal. 

"I think you could pass as an elf," Shane said. "If you wanted to join me in delivering candy grams." 

"I've told you fifty times and I'll say it fifty more, I'm average height. Especially for a male my age. It's you who's out of the ordinary."

"Maybe so, but you, standing next to the North Pole, it wouldn't look that way." 

Ryan patted Shane's arm. "I'll think about it." He wouldn't, not for a second. 

They eventually found their way over to the Christmas tree and ice rink, and Shane leaned on the gate and looked up at the towering pine. He remembered coming here every year with his mom, dad, and brother to ice skate and admire the tree. They stopped coming when Shane was about fifteen years old. It just wasn't the same when you stopped believing in Santa and the magic around Christmas. 

He snuck a glance over at Ryan, who sported a soft smile with wide eyes. The tree and rink were pretty, Shane would admit, but Ryan was . . . 

"Impressed?" Shane asked. 

Ryan looked over at him, still smiling. "Yeah, it's . . . Are you sure it's not bigger than the Rockefeller tree?" 

"I have no idea," Shane answered honestly. "But it is pretty huge. It requires, like, three cranes to build and decorate the thing."

"I'm surprised they don't just ask you."

Shane furrowed his brows and pulled down Ryan's beanie so it covered his eyes.

"Hey!" Ryan shouted, reaching out to hit Shane as he pulled his hat back up. 

Shane turned on his heel and began walking, laughing as he did. "Let's go get that pizza."

~~~

"I thought we were going to starve," John declared as he sat down at the kitchen table, reaching for a slice of pizza. Surprisingly, it was still warm when they got it back to the house. 

Shane rolled his eyes, setting down a glass of water in front of his and Ryan's seats. "We weren't gone that long." 

"Longer than it should've taken to get it and bring it back," he stated. 

"We had an errand to run," Shane told him casually. He didn't elaborate on what that errand was. "Aside from picking up the pizza. It was busy out anyway. Just a few days before Christmas." 

"Well, you're here and so is the pizza, so I'd say everything worked out fine," Sherry said, taking a seat next to John. "Also, I was thinking, Shane, that tomorrow I make your fruit cake." She said it like she had something else to say.

Shane raised a brow. "Okay, what's the catch?" He took a bite of pizza, waiting. 

Sherry smiled a little wickedly. "I just want you to help clean the house before everyone comes over Christmas Eve. I was thinking you could take the basement, John can have the living room, and I'll do the kitchen and bathrooms." 

He let out a breathy laugh. "You act like the house was hit by a twister." It looked clean to him. "But if cleaning gets me fruit cake, I'm in. You don't mind helping me clean, do you Ry?" Shane rested his chin on his fist, fluttering his eyelashes stupidly. 

Ryan laughed, swallowing his bite of pizza. "What's in it for me?"

"Hmm," Shane hummed thoughtfully. "Fruit cake." 

He made a face of disgust. "You can have my slice."

"Perfect! It all works out." 

With an eye roll, Ryan finished his pizza and listened to Shane argue with his parents about trivial things. He didn't realize it at the time, but he liked how . . . Domestic it was. Shane was known to argue about anything with anyone, just to rile them up and get them going, but it was slightly different seeing him do it with his parents. He felt . . . Included? Despite not saying anything and just listening. He didn't feel like an outsider, intruding. He felt like he was meant to be here. 

The rest of the night flew by rather fast, and as they all sat in the living room watching ID TV, Shane let out a loud and obnoxious yawn. 

"Was that necessary?" Ryan asked. 

"I was announcing my tiredness to the household," Shane stated. 

Sherry laughed and John rolled his eyes, while Ryan said, "Or you could have just said, 'hey, I'm tired,' like most people?"

"I'm not trying to be like most people, Ryan. That's rather tedious." 

"Whatever. I'm tired, too." Traveling and the cold, mixed with a cozy evening in the living room, drained all the energy right out of him. It was barely ten at night, but he felt like it was almost one in the morning. He blamed it on the jet lag. Who knew a three hour time change could be so different? He would have thought he'd be more awake - not more tired. 

Shane stood from his seat abruptly, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up just a little, and Ryan was able to see his stomach and the hair that trailed down- 

"Let's hit the hay!" Shane announced. "Plenty to do tomorrow. Mom got us maid outfits." 

Sherry scoffed. "You probably wish I did. You're weird like that." 

Ryan couldn't help the loud laugh that escaped his throat, forgetting all about his previous Shane thoughts. "You're not wrong there." 

"I think we're about done too," she said, patting John's knee. "I'm going to go wash up and climb in. I'll see you when you're ready." She leaned over and pecked him on the lips, standing from her own seat. 

"You coming or are you gonna watch them be grossly in love for the rest of the night?" Shane asked, brow raised. 

Ryan made a noise, standing from his chair. "Don't be jealous. You know you wish you had that." And he would be lying if he said he didn't wish for it, too. 

"I know I do," Shane admitted, much to Ryan's surprise. "But I'm waiting for the right person to have that with." His eyes stared deeply into Ryan's, and with a blink, he turned away. "Come on. Get your shit out of my room so you're not in there banging around in the morning while I try to sleep." 

"I'm not - you know what? Whatever. Maybe I'll come in and bang around, regardless of if my shit is in there or not." He began to follow Shane down the steps. 

"You better not," Shane warned. 

"And what are you going to do about it?" Ryan thought it was funny - Shane was the least threatening person he knew. The man may be tall, but his face was too soft to be menacing. With or without the current beard he was growing. 

"You don't want to find out." Shane pushed open the bedroom door, Ryan trailing behind like he had been this entire day. 

Ryan scoffed. "I'm so scared." 

Suddenly, Shane spun on his heel, grabbing Ryan by the sides of his arms and throwing him down onto the bed gently. He leaned over him, eyes lingering on his face. "You should be," he murmured. 

Ryan stared back, swallowing the lump in his throat. His heart pounded with a new rhythm, and the only thing he could think of was please. 

He quickly disregarded the thought. Please what? He didn't even know. 

Shane released him, standing up and reaching for Ryan's suitcase. "Your bags, good sir." 

What the - no! No, Shane couldn't just do that and pretend like he didn't do that. It wasn't fair. 

Ryan sat up, his face flushed. He grabbed the handle and stood up. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "See you tomorrow."

"Sleep well, Ry." Shane closed the door behind him, resting his forehead on the wood. He let out a sigh and muttered to himself, turning back around and throwing himself down on the bed. 

This . . . Vacation wasn't helping. Not with anything. His heart best wildly, and he briefly wondered if Ryan's had done the same only moments before. 

He didn't know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. 

___

Ryan tried to sleep. He really did. But no matter how many times he tossed and turned and got comfortable, something just wasn't right. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the way Shane gently held him beneath him and just . . . Stared. But that had nothing to do with why he couldn't sleep. Yeah, his mind wouldn't shut up about it, but everything was just . . . Too quiet. And dark. There was no window to let in the orange glow of the street lamps, or cars going way past the speed limit down the street. 

Everything was different here. Everything. 

~~~

By the time Ryan did actually fall asleep, he was woken up with a loud thump landing next to him. He shot up in bed, gasping loudly and almost yelling, "What the fuck!?" 

Shane laughed beside him, the noise muffled by his face in the pillow. He had thrown himself down onto the bed beside Ryan, hoping to wake him up.  

"You're an asshole. What the fuck?" Ryan groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. Everything was blurry, and he reached for his glasses on the table beside the bed. 

"It was time to get up," Shane answered simply. 

"I didn't know we were on a schedule," Ryan complained. He could have set an alarm if Shane said something.  

"We're not. But it's nearly ten-thirty and we couldn't exactly sleep all day. We have cleaning to do and fruit cake to eat." He rolled over the side of the bed, landing on his feet. 

True to his word, Ryan's phone screen read ten-thirty. Hm. He didn't think it was that late. The three hour time change must be catching up to him now. "Sorry," he muttered. 

"Don't be." Shane waved him off. "Mom actually told me to let you sleep and not be rude and wake you up. But I'm thirty-three and have no rules." 

"Are you? Thirty-three?" 

Shane pretended to check a watch on his wrist and said, "Last I checked."

"That doesn't even - never mind." He fell back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow. "Why did you wake me up then, Mister No Rules?" He turned his head to look at Shane. "If there's no schedule," he added. 

Shane shrugged, smiling lazily as he said, "I missed you. I was getting awfully bored upstairs watching HGTV with Mom." 

Ryan let out a laugh, though it sounded a little nervous. "You could have started cleaning the basement." 

"Not without you," Shane told him. "But nice try, trying to weasel out of it." 

"It's your basement! I'm a guest!" 

"That you so kindly offered to help me clean." He reached over, gripping the covers. "And you can't take it back." 

"Don't," Ryan warned, barely holding back a laugh. "I'm serious." He grabbed the covers, keeping them tucked under his chin. "It's too cold for you to just - Shane!" He lost his battle with the covers, Shane tearing them right off the bed, exposing Ryan's body to the cold air. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but this was Illinois in the winter - and it was cold. 

"There's cereal sitting on the counter in the kitchen," Shane informed, dropping the covers onto the floor. "I'll give you a few minutes to catch up." He made way for the door, laughing as he heard Ryan yell. 

"You're the worst!" 

He shut the door with only a snicker, heading upstairs. 

When he made it to the top and rounded the corner, he saw his mom standing in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips. "What?" He asked, a smile still plastered onto his face. 

"Quit bullying that poor boy. I don't know how he puts up with you." 

Shane sputtered. "Bullying? You should hear how he talks to me!"

"Probably because you provoke it." 

"I do not!" Shane argued, though they both knew that was a lie.  

She rolled her eyes, letting her arms fall to the side. "I know how he puts up with you," she said quietly, so only they could hear. 

Shane's mood shifted to something more serious. "Don't say it," he whispered back. 

"Shane," she tried softly. 

"Mom, seriously." He didn't want to hear it. She can believe what she wants but he really knows Ryan, and he knows Ryan doesn't feel any sort of affection for him other than friendship. It would only make Shane feel worse if his mom told him he liked him. 

"You won't know until you ask," she said pointedly. She walked into the kitchen, and Shane followed. 

"I can't just ask him that, Mom. That would . . . Change things." 

"And you don't want change?" she asked quizzically. 

"Not if it's bad," he sniped. "If . . . If he doesn't return feelings, then all I did was make it weird and our friendship and show would never be the same. I can't do that. To him." He worked way to hard for Unsolved to be as successful as it was, and Shane wasn't going to shit on it in any way. 

Sherry looked at him, her face softening. "And what if it's not bad?" 

He got quiet for a moment before answering, "Then I still don't know what I'd do." He had spent all this time convincing himself that his feelings were one-sided and all the ways a confession could ruin their relationship now, he never stopped to think about what if Ryan said yes. That thought was almost scarier than listening to Ryan say no. 

Sherry grabbed Shane's face between her hands, brushing her thumbs along his temples. "I'll let it go for now, but life is too short to hold  back. You'll miss out." 

"Miss out on what?" Shane asked. He already had Ryan. Just not in the way he wanted. And though it wasn't ideal, it was good enough. It was better than not having him at all. 

Sherry only smiled before dropping her hands and looking over his shoulder. "Good morning, Ryan. Sorry Shane disturbed you. He's always been a little misbehaved." 

Shane whipped around, his heart hammering. 

"Jesus," Ryan said, startled. He looked at Shane, whose eyes were wide. "What's your deal?" 

Fuck, fuck, okay. "Nothing. What's yours?" 

Ryan jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Do we need to rewind to five minutes ago?" 

Shane smirked. Okay. Okay, this was good. Ryan was acting normal and this meant he hadn't heard any of the conversation he had with his mom. "I can do the same wake up call tomorrow, if you like. Think of it as a wake up call from a hotel."

"Except their nice and just call on the damn phone," Ryan pointed out. He strode past Shane, looking at the kitchen counter. True to his word, there were three boxes of cereal sitting there. And being the gym rat that he is, he went with Wheaties instead of the Cookie Crisp he knew Shane probably had this morning. He wouldn't call himself a health nut, but he did like to keep a decent diet along with his morning routine to the gym. 

"Ew, Wheaties?" Shane questioned. "That's for old people, Ryan." 

Sherry smacked Shane on the arm, glowering. "Excuse me?" 

"Why are you mad!?" Shane laughed. "You don't even eat Wheaties! Dad does. You just drink coffee and think it's a good substitute." 

"Says you," Ryan butted in. "How many times have you come into the office drinking tea, saying it's your breakfast?"

"At least it doesn't make me need to-" he stopped himself, realizing it wasn't just him and Ryan in the room. "It makes me, uh, realize I should have eaten before coming in. I don't do it everyday." He gave Ryan a look, which he responded to with a sly grin. Smug bastard. 

"Uh huh." Sherry shook her head. "Anyway, I'm going to run to the craft store to get some stuff we need for tomorrow evening. I'll be running by the store too so is there anything you boys need? It's the last call for two days. Lord knows I'm not going anywhere on Christmas Eve." 

"I don't need anything. Do you, Ry?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks for asking." 

Sherry smiled. "It's no problem." She turned to leave, grabbing her purse off the couch. 

"So polite," Shane murmured, smirking. "You don't talk to anyone else like that." 

Ryan grabbed the box of cereal from the counter. "Probably because she's nice. And your mom." 

"There's no need for ass kissing, Ryan. She already likes you more than anyone else I've ever introduced her too." For reasons he wasn't going to share. 

"Maybe because I'm nice. Also, where's the bowls? I'm not trying to dig around your parent's kitchen space and be invasive." 

"Yeah, that's it," Shane muttered, reaching over Ryan's head to open the cabinet. "And it's only a kitchen. You're not going to find anything ludacris in here." 

Ryan arched a brow. "Implying that I could find something ludacris elsewhere?" 

Shane plucked a bowl out of the cabinet, handing it to Ryan. "I don't know. Maybe. My parents do live alone now, and-" 

"Okay, okay, stop!" Ryan held up a hand, his face twisted. "I don't need mental images tainting my mind." 

With a laugh, Shane sat down on the barstool on the other side of the table. "Hurry up and eat. We have stuff we have to do." 

"I don't really think cleaning the basement will take all that long." He poured the cereal into the bowl, forgetting he never grabbed milk from the fridge. As he went to go get the carton, he said, "It looks clean to me." 

"Well you and I are men, as my mom would put it, which means if there's not anything visible on the floor, then it's not dirty. Really she just wants us to dust and straighten up. It'll take like, ten minutes, max."

"Then what do we do?" They still had an entire day before any other family members showed up, and since Shane had shown him a little of the city last night, he didn't think they'd go do it again. But he would. If Shane wanted to. They hadn't stayed out for too long last night, but it was . . . Nice, hanging out with Shane like that. They had been to tons of cities for their job, but they never got to see it quite like they did yesterday. It was only them - no cameras recording, no exaggerated bantering for audience entertainment. He liked spending time like that with Shane. And if he were being honest, he wanted more. 

"I'm sure we can find something. There's plenty to do in the Windy City." 

"It's also fucking cold." 

Shane chuckled. "That, too, but not nearly as cold as what it's supposed to be tomorrow. The weather channel this morning was calling for snow. Looks like we might just have a white Christmas." He hadn't had one of those in years. Probably not since he lived here when he was much younger. 

"I thought you said you were watching HGTV with your mom," Ryan asked suspiciously. 

"We did - after we watched the morning news and weather. I got up kinda early. I slept like shit." 

Ryan sighed. "Me too." 

"Yeah, you look a little rough," Shane joked. But secretly, he loved when Ryan looked like this. His hair flat and pointing in different directions, wearing his glasses and a hoodie. He looked so . . . Soft. Harmless. Squishable. And the man had more muscle than Shane did by far. But mornings always made Ryan look just as tiny as he appeared standing next to Shane. 

Ryan punched him on the arm. "Shut up." 

"I'm going to be bruised up by the end of this vacation." He rubbed where Ryan has punched him, though it didn't hurt. "I'm not sure who's going to give me more bruises: you or my mom." 

"We can make it a contest." 

"Or we can not." 

"We'd already know who'd win anyway," Ryan said. He ate a couple more bites of his cereal before him and Shane both said, "Sherry." 

They laughed, and Ryan finished eating, placing his bowl in the sink. "Are you sure you don't want me to wash this?"

Shane groaned. "Quit trying to be the perfect house guest. This isn't an AirBnB. It's fine." He stood from the stool. "Let's head downstairs and dust or whatever. And then we can find out what to do for the day." He had a few ideas in his head, but first, they dust. 

The two of them headed downstairs to the laundry room, where Sherry kept the cleaning supplies. Shane handed Ryan the Pledge and a rag, while he picked up the actual duster with a handle. "Because I'm taller," he said. 

"Real convenient," Ryan muttered. 

As they began to clean up the living area in the basement, Ryan allowed Shane to clean around the fireplace, while he began on the end tables. He went for the second part underneath the one by the couch, moving the large book that was in the way. It slipped from his hands before he was able to gently place it on the floor, and it hit the ground with a thud. 

"Christ, why are you throwing things?" Shane asked, looking at the open book on the floor. 

"I didn't throw it, I dropped it," Ryan defended. He went to pick it up and close it, when his gaze caught on the contents inside. "It's a photo album." He looked at the pictures on the open page, unable to stop the small smile that graced his lips. 

Shane stood over him, only briefly looking at the page. He watched as Ryan traced his fingers over the smooth, protective cover, as if he were looking into some really old, dusty history book. "Mom used to keep them everywhere. Always ready to whip out the baby photos if needed." 

"When, exactly, was there a needed time for baby photos?" 

"When she would try her hand at embarrassment. But that's hard to do. Us Madej's are tougher than iron."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Is that so?" He replayed the phrase in his head, squinting up at Shane. "Wait a minute, did you just quote something from the Iron Man films?" 

"Not exactly," Shane answered with a grin. 

"No, I think you did." 

"I think you need to have a rewatch then if you think that's the quote. You're a bit rusty on your movies," Shane commented. 

Ryan snapped the book shut, placing it back on the table where it fell off the first time. "I am not rusty on my movies or movie quotes, okay? You're the one saying them wrong." 

"Who said I was trying to say them right?" 

Annoyance flared in Ryan's chest as it usually did when talking to Shane. "You're being annoying." 

"When aren't I?"

That might just be the truest thing he's ever said. "Are we done cleaning or whatever?" He just wanted to shower and get ready for the day. 

"Or whatever," Shane murmured. "I actually know what we are going to do."

Ryan raised his brows. "Do you?"

"Go put on your warmest clothes. This involves a trip outside." 

"Where outside?" If it was going to be somewhere in town where certain areas had heat, he would only wear a sweatshirt and jeans. Truthfully, that's all he had anyway for it to be his warmest clothes. It's not like he brought a puffy winter jacket and snow boots. 

"Just go get dressed, Ryan. I thought you liked mysteries." He was so on edge lately, and Shane had no idea why. 

"Yeah, when they involve ghosts and murders that don't pertain to me!" 

"I can murder you in the woods if that suits your needs," Shane offered. "Though I can't say it would remain unsolved." 

Ryan snorted. "I mean, friends murder each other all the time. Don't they?" 

Shane grinned widely. "Did you just quote me?" That smug little-

"Wow, rusty on your own quotes?" Ryan countered. "For shame." 

"Go get dressed," Shane instructed again. "Don't bother with showering and all that fancy stuff. But maybe lose the glasses." Even though that was his favorite look, glasses would only become irritating where they were heading. 

With a frown, Ryan stood, and shoved the can of pledge and the dusty rag into Shane's chest, to which the man quickly gathered in his arms. "This better be good." 

"Trust me, we're making memories to last a lifetime." As stupid as that sounded coming out of Shane's mouth, it was true. Maybe Ryan wouldn't value what Shane had suddenly planned in his head only minutes ago, but he sure would. He had year's worth of them in his head from past Christmases with his brother and cousins. And really, they were some of his favorites. 

Ryan gave him a weary look. "Fine. But how cold are we talking? Because I only have a hoodie and tennis shoes. I'm not sure I even brought gloves." And he didn't think to, for some stupid reason. But he brought his favorite beanie. 

"Mom has tons of extras in the closet by the door. I'll grab you some." He grabbed the duster he had been using to put away with the other stuff. "As for shoes, I have an old pair of boots that I always leave here. You can try them on, but they may be a little too big. Only by maybe one size." The thought of Ryan wearing his clothes . . . No, it was just boots. It wasn't that big of a deal. 

"Okay, I'll be back." Ryan went to his room and quickly grabbed the first things from his suitcase, eager to see where they were going. With Shane, he never knew. It was either somewhere really stupid or someplace really nice. He never did anything in between. 

When he was done getting changed, he found Shane waiting by the back door in the basement, gloves in hand. He held them out to Ryan. "These should be pretty warm. And you can try these on." He gestured to the boots on the mat next to him. "Even if they don't fit. We won't be gone too long." He smiled cheekily, laughing when Ryan scowled at him. 

Ryan was muttering under his breath as he sat on the floor and laced up the boots Shane lent to him. They felt fine, maybe only a smidge too big, but not enough to where he would trip over his own feet in them. 

"Ready?" Shane asked, reaching for the door knob. 

"I guess."

Shane frowned dramatically. "With Christmas being only 2 days away, you sure lack the joy of the season." He was only half kidding, but ever since they flew out to Chicago, he had been acting funny. More so today. Oh God, what if Ryan did hear the conversation he had with his mom this morning?! 

"That's not it," Ryan defended. "I just . . ." Just what? "I'm not big on surprises." Which wasn't really true. He's never had a problem with them before. 

"Mmm," Shane hummed, though he strongly disagreed with that statement. He pulled open the door, feeling the wave of cold air roll across his face. He could already feel his nose and cheeks getting red, and he subconsciously tugged down his beanie to cover the tips of his ears. "Come on." 

Ryan squinted against the sunlight, which only shone brighter with the half melted snow on the ground. "Damn, it's cold." 

"We're not in Kansas anymore," Shane quoted in a terrible accent. 

With a laugh, Ryan shoved past Shane. "Where to?" 

"That way," Shane answered, pointing to the bare trees. "There's a path between those two pines. That's where we're heading." 

Ryan turned to face Shane, raising a brow. "I'm pretty sure I was warned about going into those woods with you." He didn't particularly feel like getting lost when it was this cold out. 

"You were. But I'm much older now than I was then, and actually know how to stay on the path and get to and from the house. It will be fine, trust me." 

Looking him up and down suspiciously, Ryan agreed. "Fine. Just this once." 

Shane rolled his eyes. "This once?" 

"As far as venturing into the woods goes, yes." Everything else was fine. Ryan trusted Shane with his life, actually. It was his mere presence at all the haunted locations they traveled to that kept him sane. 

"I'll bring my phone, just in case." He showed Ryan his phone, which he casually slid into his back pocket. He had no intention of even bringing it, but in the event that his sense of direction happened to disappear, it would be handy to have. 

They made their way towards the gravel driveway, the sound of the rocks crunching filling their ears. Birds chirped off in the distance, but other than that, it was a calm quiet. 

Ryan commented on it. "It's so quiet out here." His fists were curled up in his pockets as he looked down at the ground. "It's sort of . . . Different." Compared to the hustle and bustle of city life, that is. 

"I know. When I first moved to LA, I thought I was never going to get some sleep. Everything was so loud and obnoxious. Constant car beeping, people shouting. It's nothing like it is here, that's for sure." 

Peeking a glance at Shane, Ryan asked, "But you do like it there, don't you?" Suddenly, his gut sank. "You wouldn't want to move back here?" 

Shane met Ryan's eyes, and for a brief second, he thought he saw fear in them. He was familiar with the look, after all. "As much as I loved growing up here and my family here, I don't think I'd move back permanently. I like California. And all two of its seasons." That wasn't the only reason he loved the state, but those details weren't important right now. 

Ryan let out a small breath. "I'm not sure I could transition to four seasons and dead quiet at night." 

Shane chuckled. "You get used to it. Just like I got used to LA." 

The two of them crossed the tree line, stepping onto a somewhat clear, dirt path. It was mostly made up of mud and slush, but visible nonetheless.  

"After you." Ryan gestured in front of them, looking out across the forest. 

"It's about a ten minute walk from here. Think you can handle walking that long without knowing where we're going?" 

“No.”

Shane gently nudged Ryan forward. “Well, too bad.” He continued to walk on, listening to their footsteps. Neither of them talked during the walk, opting to take in the sound of the quiet outdoors. If you wanted this kind of piece in California, you had to find a lesser known hiking trail somewhere, and even then, you were bound to run into people. But out here, it was just them, the trees, and the wildlife that doesn’t hibernate.

When the trees became thicker, Ryan began to grow a little worried. Where in the Hell was Shane taking him? The heart of the forest? He didn’t see how there was anything out here to look at other than the naked trees with snow on the bare branches. He opened his mouth to ask as much, when Shane beat him to it.

“Right behind those pine trees is our destination.” He pointed ahead to the row of trees that were just off the path to the right. 

“I’m not going to push past them and find myself on a frozen lake, am I?” 

Shane gave him a funny look. “Um, no?” He laughed. “Come on.” He went ahead first to ease Ryan’s nerves. 

As he pushed past the trees, bits of snow fell off the branches, dusting the sleeves of his coat. He held them aside for Ryan to walk through, and watched as the younger man's face transformed into awe.

The open field spread out before them, the snow from days ago practically untouched (though a little melted.) 

"What do you think?" Shane asked. 

"This is . . ." Ryan had no words for what he wanted to say. "It's amazing. But it also looks like the place where Bambi's mom was murdered."

Shane snorted. "Well, there's no hunters in these woods, so I don't think we have to worry about any of that." 

Ryan took a few steps forward, looking around. There were some wood boards set up in different parts of the field, and they were faded from days in the sun. He could make out paintings on one of the nearby ones. "What are these boards out here for?"

"Cover." 

"What do you-" His sentence was cut short by a snowball hitting right in his face. 

Shane howled with laughter as Ryan scraped the snow off his face and spit out the little that landed in his mouth. 

"You're dead." Ryan quickly gathered snow in his gloves and began to pack it together, launching it in Shane's direction as he ran towards the man. 

"Oh shit." Shane slid across the ground, falling flat on his ass as he tried to dodge the snowball. His attempts didn't work, however, as the ball of snow hit him right in the forehead as he went down. He was laughing, but it was cut short as he saw Ryan's figure falling right above him. 

Ryan landed on Shane with a loud oof. The two were groaning, but couldn't help the laughs that kept coming out of their mouths. 

"Get off!" Shane shoved Ryan off of him into the snow, sitting up and readjusting his hat. "I didn't realize we were playing dodgeball! Christ." 

Wheezing, Ryan rolled over so he was facing the sky. "You know I'm competitive. What did you expect?"

"For you to take it easy! Not try to murder me with snow!" Shane exclaimed. He bunched up more snow in his right hand and quickly whipped it at Ryan, hitting him right in the ear. 

"You bitch!" Ryan gathered snow, completely disregarding the term snow ball fight, and just threw all the snow gathered in his hands right at Shane. 

Shane relatialted, until they were throwing fistfuls of snow at one another, rather than making snow balls. 

"Okay, okay! White flag!" Ryan relented, lowering his hands to his lap. He shivered. "I'm soaked and freezing. I don't think I can handle anymore," he laughed. 

"I win!" Shane shouted across the field, falling back into the snow. "Third year in a row!" 

Ryan looked at him incredulously. "Excuse me? You won? What makes you the winner?" He wasn't aware of any rules. 

"You retreated. Gave up. Making you the loser and me the winner," Shane explained. "That's basically the only rule." At least it was with his family when they would come out here and play. 

"You failed to mention any rules before we started." 

Shane only shrugged. "Call it playing smarter." 

Ryan chucked one more snowball at him, which landed directly on his face. "Ass." 

Sitting up, Shane shook the snow off his head and face. "Maybe you can be crowned next year." 

Next year. Ryan tried to ignore the fact that he was saying they would be coming back here next year at Christmas, doing the same thing. And truthfully, as bad as that thought scared him because of what it could mean, he felt a sense of . . . Joy. Shane wanted him to come back to his parents' again for the holidays. 

"Come on. We can head back and warm up. Shower and whatnot." Shane stood, walking over to Ryan and offering him a hand. 

Ryan took it, standing up and letting the snow fall off his jeans. He dusted them off quickly, following Shane off the battlefield. "A shower may be the best thing you've ever suggested."

"Is that right?" Shane chuckled. 

"Yes. I am so cold. I can barely feel my toes." He couldn't remember the last time he had even been in the snow for a long period of time. Maybe back when they filmed a video for the Salem Witch Trials for Unsolved, but even then, they hadn't been playing in it. Just walking. And working. 

"Thought I told you to bring layers?" 

"No, you told me to bring two coats. You said nothing about doubling down on socks." Even if he had known they were going to be quite literally playing in the snow, he still wouldn't have brought multiple pairs of socks. It's just not something he would think to bring. Like gloves. 

"Next time, then."

There he goes again with the next time. Were they going to do this again? Did Ryan even want to do this again? He wasn't sure right now, but if Shane asked him, he felt like he'd probably say yes a little too quickly. 

He had gotten so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even realize that snow began to fall around them until Shane mentioned it. 

“Hm. I thought the snow would hold off for another day or two. Looks like the weather channel was wrong yet again.” They were never reliable anymore. It was all just a guessing game. Shane looked up at the sky, letting the flakes land on his face. “Either way, looks like we get a white Christmas! Mom will be happy.” 

Ryan blinked, coming back to the present. The snow was falling at a decent pace. Not too light, but not too heavy to obscure any visibility. It cast a peaceful feeling over them as they trekked back to the house. 

Once inside, Shane made a loud, dramatic, “Brr!” and shook the snow off of him and onto the mat.

“I think you’re mom would appreciate it if you did that outside.” Ryan carefully removed his boots, setting them on the shoe mat outside the door. 

“It’s just water. It’ll dry up.” Shane slid the beanie off his head, his hair sticking up in every direction. 

Ryan pressed his lips together, holding back a laugh. But man, did Shane look-

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that,” Sherry said, strolling out of the laundry room with a frown. “But I suppose it’s karma.”

“For what?” Shane asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong that needs righting!”

“Actually, I forgot one of the ingredients at the store for fruit cake. Consider this your punishment.”

Shane sputtered. “That’s a big coincidence. And this is happening after you went to the store! Not before.” 

“The universe just knew,” Sherry pointed out. “Either way, I’m not going back out in that. Sorry, honey. If you want fruit cake, you’ll have to wait for another time.”

“I can just go grab it real quick. It won’t take me that long,” Shane said. “There’s a drug store just a few blocks down.”

Ryan looked out the backdoor window. “But it’s snowing, Shane.”

Shane gave him a funny look, but it vanished as soon as it came. “So?”

“You’re not really supposed to drive in snow.” Now, Ryan had zero experience driving in the snow, so he didn’t know what it was really like, but he knew every weatherman and police force advised against it.

“It’s barely sticking to the roads and it’s only started. It’ll take me twenty minutes max to grab what I need and get back. It’ll probably stop snowing by then anyway.” 

Ryan bit his bottom lip, unsure. “I don’t know . . .”

“Ryan, it will be fine, I promise. Go take your shower and get warm. I’ll be back when you probably get done.” He slipped his hat back on, adjusting it over the tips of his ears. “Plus, I do have some experience driving in this crap.”

“I can come with,” Ryan offered. 

“No, it’s fine. You’re still shaking and wet from our previous endeavor. Go clean up. I know it’s killing your little californian body to be this cold.”

Ryan smacked Shane on the arm. “I’m not going to fall over and die from temps just below the thirties.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and practically shoved Shane out the back door. “Go away. And be quick.” He couldn’t help but feel that Shane shouldn’t go out driving, but it really wasn’t snowing that hard, and he could see it melting as it touched the gravel.

Laughing, Shane grabbed the keys off the wall. “Do you need anything? Last call before we are shut ins for two days.”

“I don’t need anything.” At least, he hoped he didn’t.

He spun the keys around his finger. “I’ll be back in twenty. Don’t miss me too bad.”

“I’ll keep my sobs to a minimum,” Ryan replied flatly.

Shane had the quick urge to hug him or . . . No. Why was he even thinking that? Or having the urge? He would be right back. It’s not like he was going on an extended stay somewhere without him. “Shower. I’ll be back. Mom, text me with what you forgot!” He opened the door and braved the cold for a second time.

Unaware of the small grin on his face, Ryan headed to the bedroom to grab a dry pair of clothes. There was already a towel above the toilet in the bathroom, and he was glad he didn’t have to hunt one down or go upstairs just to ask Sherry. He wasn’t usually shy when talking to people, but this was Shane’s mom. And somehow, that made all the difference.

He peeled off his wet clothes, tossing them on the counter to avoid getting the floor wet. The air was cold on his skin, and he quickly turned on the shower and hopped behind the curtain, letting the hot water cascade down his skin.

The goosebumps on his arms and legs disappeared, and he hunched over as the warmth seeped into him. He grabbed whatever was already in the shower and washed his hair and body, and couldn't help but notice how it smelled a little like Shane. 

Great. Now I'm using his products. 

As badly as he wanted to say that was weird, it kind of . . . Wasn't. Not as weird as he would have thought yesterday. Or even the day before that. Maybe he was getting comfortable here. Only after a day, though? Ryan didn't understand it and he didn't try to. He'd allow himself this one day before the rest of Shane's family arrived tomorrow and made things strange again. 

He was unsure of just how long he had stood in the shower when he turned off the water and stood in the steam filled room. Toweling off, he quickly put on his clothes, trying not to cringe at the jeans he attempted to put on. He hated putting on jeans as soon as he was done showering. And he knew if Shane were here to witness it, he would make a comment about stop being so weird, it's just my parent's house, as if that were reason to be chill enough. 

Hanging the towel on the hook behind the door, he went back to his bedroom to grab a hoodie, finding the rest of the house much colder than the bathroom. Just as he slid it over his head, there was a knock on the door. 

"Come in!" He expected it to be Shane, considering his shower had actually been twenty minutes - AKA, the amount of time Shane claimed it would take for him to get to the store and come back - but it was actually Sherry, much to his surprise. "Oh."

"Hey . . ." She trailed off, looking a little shaken.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked, genuinely concerned. "What's wrong?" 

"I just got off the phone with Shane. He's been in an accident." 

Ryan stood there, more still than any statue. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he wasn't sure how his legs were still solid beneath him. 

"He said he's fine and not hurt, but the car isn't the same way. We need to go get him if we want him home." 

Ryan was barely listening, only hearing the part where she said they needed to go get him. 

Yes, go get him. Go get him, bring him home, make sure he was okay before telling him - no. Ryan wasn't going to say I told you so. Not this time. Not when Shane could have been seriously hurt. Or worse. 

Or maybe he was hurt. Knowing Shane, he was downplaying whatever just happened, making it sound like it wasn't a big deal when it very well could be. 

"Ryan?" Sherry asked, breaking him from his thoughts. "He's okay. He was the one who called me from his phone. We just have to go get him." 

His phone. Ryan quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, clicking the button on the side. He had quite a few notifications from when they were outside earlier, but there were some unread messages at the very top. He swiped to open, finding that three were from Shane himself. 

Shane: dont freak out 

Shane: I'm serious ryan dont do it. I'm fine I promise  

Shane: text me when/if you actually see these

With shaky hands, Ryan typed out a quick reply. 

Ryan: we are on our way

He shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Okay," he breathed out, trying to calm his racing heart. 

"John's already in the car."

That's all Ryan needed to hear as he slipped on his tennis shoes and followed her out the door. 

The three of them said nothing for the short car ride it took to get there. The snow had let up considerably, with only a flurries flying around. 

Ryan saw the police lights before anything else. His eyes roamed around the scene, seeing the car Shane had taken down in a ditch, along with another car still up on the road, with the front end smashed in. 

So someone had hit him. 

Ryan's phone buzzed in his pocket, but he was too antsy to even feel it. When it buzzed again, he quickly pulled it out to shut it off completely, but it was only incoming messages from Shane. 

Shane: I can't even see you and I know you're losing your shit. Calm down. 

Shane: and dont ignore me because you're too focused on what you're seeing 

Damn. How did Shane know him so well? 

Ryan: didn't hear my phone buzz

Seconds later, Shane replied. 

Shane: mmhm, sure. When you get out of the car, find the ambulance. I'm being forced to sit in it with one of those stupid blankets that look a lot like your tin foil hat. 

Ryan rolled his eyes. If Shane was joking around, maybe he really was fine. And maybe Ryan was overreacting. Just a little. 

As soon as the car was in park, Ryan flung off his seatbelt and got out of the car, forgetting all about Shane's parents in the front seat. For once, he ignored the looks of everyone around him, rushing to get to the ambulance just in front of the police cars. 

No one stopped him as he rushed forward and crashed into an unsuspecting Shane. 

"Oof!" Shane let out as he felt arms circle tightly around his torso. He let his own long limbs reach up and hug back, taking the moment for what it was. The blanket had fallen off his shoulders, resting behind him as he let this hug linger on. "Ryan," he murmured into the man's ear. "I'm okay." 

Ryan pulled back slightly, looking over Shane's face. There was a cut just above his eyebrow, which was covered in a butterfly bandage. "You said you were fine!" 

Shane couldn't help it. He chuckled. "I am fine." 

Frowning, Ryan's finger lightly tapped the clean skin beside the bandage, which caused Shane to wince. "Uh huh." 

"Well when you prod it like that, it's a little sore." Shane reached up and grabbed Ryan's wrist, lowering it back down to his lap. He didn't let go, and he wasn't sure if it was for his sake or Ryan's. "It's only a cut, Ryan. People get them all the time. Stop acting like I have a gaping head wound that won't stop bleeding." 

"That's because head wounds are hard to get to stop bleeding!" He argued. That's why they were so serious. 

"I didn't get my skull bashed in with a baseball bat. I just hit my head on the sunvisor. That's what you get for being abnormally large."

Ryan let out a sigh, though it did very little to relieve his nerves. He was still a bit shaky, but he held his hands in tight fists so they weren't visible. "So what happened?" 

"Now you ask," Shane teased with an eyeroll. He smiled nonetheless. "The man over there wasn't paying attention when switching lanes. Hit me in the back corner, which caused me to spin out and the car to go down in that ditch. The airbag stopped me from hunching over the steering wheel. Hence why only my forehead was injured. Sadly, there's no airbags in the sunvisor." He squeezed Ryan's wrist, only now aware he hadn't let go, and Ryan hadn't pulled away. Yet. "It wasn't the snow that did this. It actually pretty well stopped when I got to the end of the driveway. This was just a case of not paying attention to your surroundings when driving. It happens all the time." 

Ryan said nothing. For now, he just needed Shane to keep talking. It was keeping him calm for some reason, despite the fact that he wasn't the one who just got into a car accident. 

"Shane!" Sherry exclaimed when she saw her son, and Ryan quickly snatched his hand back out of Shane's grip. 

Shane pretended like he didn't really notice, but the chill of the winter air danced over his empty palm, all warmth gone. "Mom," he greeted, accepting the hug she gave him. 

"Are you alright? I know you said you were on the phone, but . . ."

"Yes, I'm fine," he assured, his gaze landing on Ryan, who was a jittery mess still. He noticed the way Ryan stared at the car in the ditch, and how he tightly bit his bottom lip and drummed his fingers on the arm of his coat. He didn't understand why Ryan was reacting so badly. He wasn't being hospitalized. Nothing was broken. So why was the man still so shaken up long after seeing that Shane was well and truly okay? 

"Good. Good. That's all that matters." She hugged him again. "I shouldn't have forgotten that last ingredient. It was even on my grocery list." 

"Mom, this isn't your fault. It's not mine either, so don't spend anymore time thinking it was, okay?" He wasn't going to let this one accident ruin the rest of the holiday season. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the small bottle of vanilla. "Besides, I still got it." 

Sherry laughed, snatching the bottle out of his hand. "Of course you did. I'll make the fruitcake tonight then. And also, right before your phone call, I got off the phone with Aunt Mags. She's coming in early, so she'll be here tonight." 

That was unexpected. But sure. "Sounds great. I'll just kick Ryan out of his room one day early then." 

That caught his attention, and he turned away from the damaged cars to face Shane. "Hm?" 

"Looks like you're rooming with me tonight. We're having some early company," Shane explained. 

Oh God. Oh no. Ryan knew he was gonna have to share a room with Shane for a few days this week, but why did it have to be tonight of all nights? He was already a frantic mess about this. He didn't need yet another thing to make him spiral out of control. Internally, of course. He would never let it show outright. But even when he thought he kept his exterior cool and collected, Shane was always able to tell the difference, and that only added onto the ball of anxiety that was ever growing in his gut. Today just seemed to be one thing after another, and he wondered if it was going to stop anytime soon. He needed time to just sit and think about-

"Ry?" Shane was suddenly standing next to him, both hands on his shoulders. "Look at me." He caught Ryan's eyes and they stood there for a minute, just staring. It probably looked weird to anyone else who was watching them, but at this moment, something about it just felt right. "Whatever is going on up here," he murmured, tapping the tip of his finger against Ryan's temple, "stop thinking about so much. It will drive you crazy." 

"I think it already has," Ryan whispered back. He couldn't stop thinking about it. How just one different move, one slight tap of the car somewhere else, could have-

"Ryan," Shane said with a little more force. "Don't stand here and think of the 'what ifs' all day long. That's not good for anyone's mental health. What happened, happened, and we are going to go home and move on from this. Mom is going to make that fruit cake you've been dying to try, and you'll get to meet Aunt Mags. It's all good." 

Was it? Ryan supposed it was. Shane was fine, after all, and just before this giant mess, they had a great time throwing snow at one another in that empty field. There really was no reason to be standing here, thinking such dark thoughts about what if. "Okay." He released a shaky breath, relaxing under Shane's hands. "But I'm not eating the fruit cake." 

"Um, you are. I didn't go get the vanilla extract for nothing." 

"Shane," Ryan whined. "Don't guilt me into eating that nasty-" 

"Delectable."

"Disgusting-" 

"Delicious." 

"Ugh! Stop that!" Ryan scolded. 

Shane was grinning from ear to ear, knowing that his tactic was working. Of distraction was the only way he was going to get Ryan to calm down, then so be it. "You'll see it's not as bad as you're claiming it is." 

"No, I'll be exactly right like I usually am."

"Oh?" Shane arched his brows. "Does this also apply to all the ghouls we go searching for?" 

"They're out there!" Ryan argued. "I can be right, but I can't make you see sense. Or what's right in front of your face." 

Shane snorted. "When have we ever been face to face with a ghost?" 

"Maybe not face to face, but there's definitely been some good evidence you pretend not to see."

It's not like he pretended it wasn't there, it just . . . Wasn't good evidence as far as ghosts went. He still didn't believe in any of that, but he would admit, sometimes the footage was a bit weird. However, that was a discussion for another day. 

"Are you boys ready to get home?" Sherry asked, coming up behind them. "And you need to go home and lie down." She pointed at Shane. 

"Mom," Shane whined - actually whined. "I came out practically unscathed. I'm fine." 

"Tell me the same thing tomorrow morning when your body is sore and it feels like you got whiplash." 

Shane rolled his eyes. "That sounds like a tomorrow problem." He wasn't trying to let this affect the rest of the holidays. Especially with tomorrow being Christmas Eve. 

"That can be somewhat aided today with a little rest. I still have that neck pillow from the last time we flew that you can borrow." 

This was an argument Shane knew he wasn't going to win. "Fine. But I get to sit in the basement on the couch and watch TV. I don't want to watch HGTV anymore. I can't." 

Ryan laughed suddenly, pressing his lips together when they gave him funny looks. 

"Oh, so my torment is funny to you?" Shane asked. 

"It's just HGTV, Shane. You made it sound like you had to watch Say Yes To The Dress." Which he was now totally making him watch if it happened to be on TV when they got home. 

"Hey!" Sherry chided. "There is nothing wrong with that show either." 

"Yeah, Ryan. Have some more respect for the drama behind wedding dresses." 

"You two, I swear," Sherry muttered, shaking her head. "Let's go home. You've been cleared to leave the scene. The towing company will take care of the car, so don't even worry about it." 

Shane opened his mouth to apologize for it, but he didn't even get one word out before getting cut off. 

"And don't even think about saying sorry," she said. "Everything is fine. We have insurance. You're safe and that's what's important." 

Shane tipped his head in acknowledgement, agreeing to let it go. She wasn't wrong, after all. Still, it wasn't his car and he had driven it and it got totaled. A part of him was going to feel a little guilty. 

Even so, they went home, and Ryan and Shane settled in on the couch downstairs. Sherry had made a fire in the fireplace, and asked if she could get either of them anything. 

"No, I think we are good," Shane said, knowing what she was really asking. 

"Are you sure? You don't need any Tylenol or-" 

"Not at the moment, no," Shane replied, cutting her off. "Besides. It doesn't prevent aches and pains. It just soothes them once they're here. Which they currently aren't." 

Sherry frowned at him, her hands on her hips. "If you say so. I'll be upstairs baking some stuff for tomorrow. Don't forget Aunt Mags is coming in soon, so don't be alarmed if she comes through that door over there." 

"I won't forget." 

She left with only a head nod, heading upstairs to get started on baking. 

Shane looked over at Ryan, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, resting his head on his hand. He stared at the TV, though his face was blank enough to tell Shane he wasn't actually paying attention to what was on, and was lost inside his own head. 

"Ry?" 

He snapped out of his trance, eyes trailing over to Shane. "Hm?"

"What's wrong?" He was fully prepared for him to answer nothing, so he beat him to it by saying, "And don't lie and tell me nothing."

Still, he said it anyway. "Nothing." 

Shane rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. "You think I believe that?" 

"No, but that's not my fault." 

Shane snorted. "Then do a better job of acting like it." In truth, Ryan was very good at hiding what he was really feeling to any onlookers. But Shane had known him for so long that by now, he could always tell when something was off. 

"My acting skills are just fine, thanks." 

"Oh yeah?" Shane goaded. "Then why do I have a hard time believing this performance?"

"I'm not performing, " Ryan defended. "I'm just sitting here." 

"Yeah, brooding." 

"What do you want me to say, Shane?" Ryan snapped. "What?" 

That wasn't what Shane had been expecting. "Ry, relax," he tried to soothe. "I'm not trying to get all up in your space or business, but something is clearly bothering you and I think that if you told me what it was, you would feel better." He had a hunch he already knew what Ryan's deal was, but he wanted Ryan to tell him. 

"I'm not sure I would," Ryan admitted, sliding down in his seat. 

"But you don't know until you try," Shane replied softly. "Is this about the accident? Because all is well. I'm okay. So is the other guy. No one was hurt." 

"But you could have been," Ryan said in a rush. "You could have . . . You could have died." He stumbled over his words, and dragged a hand down his face. "When your mom told me you were in an accident . . . God, Shane, I thought I was going to die. Or faint. I don't fucking know. I couldn't feel my legs, everything felt cold. She swore you were fine and you sent me texts saying as much, but it's two days before Christmas! And I'm at your parents', a place I've never been before, and if you would have died, I would have been left here! You would have left me. And the last thing I would have been left with was you saying you'd be back in twenty minutes, and try not to miss you too bad." His throat felt like it was closing up, and he knew he was close to tears, but he held them in. 

"Ry . . ." Shane whispered, feeling tears coming on himself. 

"And you can tell me it's okay, and everything is fine, and nothing happened and stop thinking about what if," he barreled on, "but I can't. Sometimes you're just so . . . So . . . Ugh!" He didn't know what he wanted to say. He knew what he felt, but he couldn't put that emotion into words. 

"And I know this isn't your fault," Ryan continued. "These things happen. And yeah, you're fine, everything is fine. So I don't know why I'm acting like you're on the brink of death and there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's stupid."

Shane stared at him for a moment before saying, "Because you care." As the words tumbled from his mouth, they were full of awe and disbelief more than anything. It was a statement, but one that Shane couldn't believe he was applying to Ryan. Something about this situation felt different than all the rest - he knew Ryan cared about him. They were friends and work partners. They were close and have been for some time. But something about this felt . . . Different. It looked different, and Shane could see the small spark in Ryan's eyes telling him so. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew what he wanted it to be. 

"I do," Ryan assured, and then muttered under his breath, "a little too much."

"What?" Shane was sure he heard him right, despite how low he said it, but he couldn't confirm it himself. 

"I do care." Ryan bit his lower lip, unsure of why his next sentence hurt him to say. "We're friends." 

A part of Shane deflated a but, but he expected nothing less. They were friends. And that's all they would be. He's known that for years, so why did it feel so different now? It's not the first time either of them had established they were friends. 

Shane wanted to say something more, but the basement door opened, and a blast of cold air rushed into the room, dancing across the space. 

"I'm here!" Aunt Mags sang loudly, slamming the door shut behind her. "Whoops." A large, blue purse hung from her forearm, while two suitcases occupied her hands. She was bundled up in a heavy winter coat, a scarf tucked tightly into the collar. Needless to say, this woman was big on looks.

"Hey, Aunt Mags," Shane greeted from the couch. "It's good to see you." He went to stand up, but she waved him back down. 

"Your mother told me what happened. Just sit and rest. Hugs can be handed out later." 

Shane smiled, a bit agitated that she already knew about what happened an hour or so ago. He didn't want this to take away from the holiday, and he definitely didn't want anyone catering to him or treating him like glass. 

He eyed her two bags and purse, letting out a small chuckle. "Are you staying for the month or just three days?" 

She gave him a look that said mind your business, but answered, "All my clothes and toiletries can't fit in one bag, dear. And everyone knows not to put hairspray and dry shampoos in the same bags as your clothes. You don't want any accidents that may soil fabric." 

Shane did not know that. Then again, he wasn't usually packing pressurized cans in his suitcases. "Whatever you say. You remember where the guest room is?" Ryan had moved his stuff into Shane's room when they got home earlier, so it was clean and ready for another resident. 

"I sure do. Thank you, and - oh. Who's this?" She only then seemed to spot Ryan sitting on the couch, silently watching the exchange. "Wait, I think your mom told me. Ronald?"

Shane snorted loudly, unable to help himself. He laughed again at Ryan's expression. "It's Ryan," Shane told her. 

"Oh! I'm sorry. Ryan," she repeated. "Its a delight to meet you. I'm Maggie, but everyone calls me Mags. With or without the aunt in front. So whichever you prefer. It doesn't matter to me." She bustled over to the couch and stuck out her hand, to which Ryan gripped firmly and shook. "Ooh, a firm handshake," she commented, looking back over at Shane. "That's always a good sign."

Shane shot her a look. "Not now," he muttered. 

Ryan was confused, but he said nothing. A good sign? A good sign of what? 

"I assume your mother is upstairs?" Mags asked, changing the subject. 

"She is. She's getting started on some baking." Please don't let Ryan ask what she meant. Please. He was hoping this new topic would drive any lingering questions away. 

"Fantastic! I'll go help her. Thank you, dear. Ryan, it was nice meeting you. I hope we can talk some more soon." She gripped the handles on her bags and quickly put them into the guest room before heading upstairs to find Sherry. 

Blowing out a breath, Shane caught Ryan's face, which was currently sporting a scowl. "What?" He laughed a bit nervously. 

"Nothing." 

"Bulls shit! Tell me." 

"It's not important right now," Ryan replied. "I'll tell you some other time." 

Getting Ryan to tell him anything recently was like pulling teeth. "Ryan, come on. Talk to me." 

Ryan groaned outwardly. "Fine. Maybe it's just me, but your family is being really weird to me." 

So he has been noticing. Fuck. "They seem pretty normal to me," he answered coolly. "Trust me, that's just how they always are. Nothing against you." 

Ryan eyed him suspiciously. "Hmph." 

"Ryan, I promise. Everything is fine. You're fine, I'm fine. That's just the way my family is." And he's damn well lucky no one has outright said anything else to him. Shane wasn't sure what he would do if anyone mentioned his . . . Feelings. Ruin a whole lot, that's for sure. 

Neither of them said anything more, and both watched TV in silence. After a while, Shane began to doze off. 

Ryan fiddled around on his phone, checking his Twitter and Instagram. He had plenty of notifications, and decided he had plenty of time to look through them all. 

An hour had passed by, and before he knew it, it was late afternoon. And he was hungry. 

"Shaaane," Ryan whined. "Shaaane!" 

"Hm?" Shane roused from his nap, scrubbing his hands over his face as he sat up straight. "What's going on?"

"I'm hungry." 

Shane blinked at him a few times before bursting out in laughter. "You know how to feed yourself."

"Not here, I don't." 

With a snort, Shane grabbed his phone and checked the time. "I guess it has been a while since breakfast. Let's go upstairs and raid the kitchen." 

As they ascended the stairs, the smell of baked goods filled their noses. It smelled just like a bakery Shane used to go to when he lived here years ago, and it reminded him of easier times. His childhood. It made his stomach growl. "Mom!" he yelled when they got to the top. "We're starving!" 

Sherry poked her head out of the kitchen. “I know you know how to cook food and eat it. You’ve lived alone for how many years now?”

“Unimportant,” Shane said dismissively. “What I really want to know is what our options are and if we will get in your way if we try to make something.” 

“I was actually just finishing up in here, so the kitchen is yours. Just clean up whatever mess you make and no eating the baked goods, you hear me?” 

“I’ll try to keep Ryan’s hands out of them,” Shane promised. 

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as if I’m the problem.”

“Trust me,” Sherry said, “I know who to blame if something gets touched. It’s why I always have to make the deviled eggs last minute.” 

“Can you blame me?” Shane asked. “Those were God’s best creation.” He walked over to the fridge, opening the door and browsing what was inside. “Hey, how long as this taco meat been in here?” 

Just since yesterday. We had it for an early lunch before you two arrived, so it’s still good.  We actually have chips in the pantry if you two want some walking tacos.” 

“Please,” Ryan almost begged. “That sounds so good.” It’s been a while since he’s had tacos, let alone walking ones.

"Sit down, I'll make it," Shane insisted. 

Ryan arched a brow. "Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?"

"I did. Took a nap and everything," Shane replied. 

Frowning, Ryan crossed his arms. "I don't think  hour nap qualifies for taking it easy for the rest of the day."

"Who said it had to be the entire evening?" He threw the taco meat into the microwave for one minute. As it heated up, he went to the pantry to grab some mini chip bags, and tossed a variety onto the counter. 

"I think it was implied," Ryan muttered. 

Shane leaned onto the counter across from Ryan, who did end up taking a seat on the barstool. Their faces were meters apart, and all it would take was one, tiny -

The microwave beeping cut off Shane's thoughts, and he quickly spun around to grab the meat. He got out the bag of shredded cheese, tossing it onto the counter by the chip bags. "Bon appetit!" 

"Looks gourmet," Ryan commented, reaching for a bag of nacho cheese Doritos 

"Tastes like it too."

"Probably because the meat was actually made by your mom," Ryan said. 

"Hey! I can cook. Sometimes." He didn't do it often, but if he really wanted to, he could make a nice meal. He just had no one to make it for other than himself. So often times he just ordered out or made a frozen meal. 

Ryan gave him a look. "I haven't witnessed this." 

"Well yeah, I don't generally cook for you. Though it can be arranged." 

There was a small, strange feeling in the pit of Ryan's gut as he processed Shane's words, though he chose to ignore it. Instead, he focused on his taco, which was actually quite good and hitting the spot. 

They are the rest of their tacos in silence, and went back downstairs for the evening to watch TV. Shane promised tomorrow wouldn't be as lame and chillax, but Ryan honestly didn't mind this. A calm before the storm, if you will. 

This felt normal. Watching TV, showing each other stupid shit on their phones from Twitter or Instagram. It was like they were hanging out at one another's apartment back home. Minus the popcorn and shitty movie. 

Overall, the rest of the night went by pretty fast, and by midnight, they were both wiped. 

"I'm about ready for bed," Shane said, tossing his phone onto the couch beside him. "What about you?" 

Ryan yawned, stretching his arms over his head. "I'm beat." All that worry and anxiety from earlier in the day really zapped him of his energy, though he couldn't find it in him to nap like Shane had. Too lost in his own thoughts, he supposed. 

Shane grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. "Let's hit it."

It was only then Ryan remembered they had to share a room for a few days. "You know, I'm perfectly capable of-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say," Ryan argued, a hint of whining in his voice. 

"I do, and no."

"You-"

"It's cold out here and the couch is leather and it sucks. You're sleeping in a bed."

Ryan pouted. "Shane-" 

"You're the guest here anyway. If I were a good host, I would offer you the bed and me the couch. But I'm not sleeping on this thing either, and I never said I was a good host." And maybe this was a bit selfish of him to do, but he liked sleeping in the same bed as Ryan. On ghoul hunts, even in sleeping bags. There was just something comforting about it all, and he knew Ryan felt the same way, though he never admitted it. Even so, this couch did suck. He's slept on it plenty and woke up sore every time. 

"Fine." 

Shane totally expected Ryan to argue more. Maybe he was seeing reason for once. "That's it? No whining?" 

"I'm tired. And we've slept in the same bed before," he mentioned. Countless times. Not that he needed a sudden reminder of it. 

With a shrug, Shane rose off the couch, stretching as he did so. "You can have the bathroom first." So he could have time to freak out to himself. Not that he typically freaked out over things, but he needed just sixty seconds to himself. And another sixty in the bathroom after Ryan. So two minutes of freak out time, all to himself. It was perfect. 

"Sure." Ryan went straight for the bathroom, his contacts case still sitting on the counter from earlier (which he needed to remember to take back to the bedroom with him) and he figured he'd just change when Shane took his turn in here. 

Clearly it was a mistake, because now he had to stumble back to the bedroom like some drunk because his actual glasses were sitting on the dresser. He had been so caught up in his nerves and thoughts, he didn't stop to think about grabbing some essentials before bolting into the bathroom. 

"Christ, did you hit your head or something?" Shane asked when Ryan stumbled through the bedroom door. 

"No, jackass, I forgot how blind I am without contacts or glasses." He made his way over to the dresser, grabbing his glasses case. He was definitely going to set these beside the bed. Once he put them on, he let his eyes adjust and noticed Shane sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a loose, white tee and a pair of basketball shorts. He had seen this look countless times, but this time - like everything else during this God forsaken trip - it was different. Everything was different. And as much as Ryan wanted to say he hated it, he couldn't. His thoughts screamed it was horrible, but something in his chest screamed otherwise. 

"You forgot you couldn't see?" Shane asked with a stupid smile on his face. 

"No, I - who cares. Bathroom's free. Hurry up so I can sleep." 

"You don't need me to haul ass in order to get into bed and sleep. Just get under the covers and close your eyes," he instructed. 

As if he would be that easy. Ryan thought he had a bad night last night sleeping, but there was no way he was going to be able to sleep any tonight. In fact, he was sure his next good night's sleep would be a week from now, when he was back home in his own bed, alone. "You'll be a disturbance to the peace when you get into bed with your gangly limbs." A stupid excuse, he knows. But he needed to say something. It all came down to the last word with those two. 

"Okay, honey. I'll make it snappy," Shane teased, swiping his own contact case off the dresser, along with his glasses. 

It was a good thing he left right after saying that, because Ryan could feel his cheeks on fire. He swiped at them as if it would remove the color, but he was sure he only made it worse. So in that case, he reached over to the lamp on his side of the bed and shut it off. He quickly got under the covers and stared at the ceiling, just wondering, what the fuck. He hated this feeling, and he didn't even know what this feeling was. Fear? Concern? Excitement? All three in one, horrible knot that settled inside his chest? He felt like he was going to spiral into a panic. Or vomit from nervousness, which didn't even make sense. Shane was his friend. They've done this before for Christ's sake! 

Get over yourself! 

The bedroom door opened, and Shane walked in, closing it quietly behind him. "Hope you weren't asleep."

"You talking definitely wasn't going to keep me that way if I was," Ryan answered. Joking was better than feeling, and he could do that. He could do it all day! 

Shane rolled his eyes, and went for his side of the bed. He sat on the edge for a second, fiddling with something on his phone before placing it on the nightstand. "Do you want the fan on? I usually sleep with one on. I didn't know if you like that or not." 

"I like it cold. Turn that bitch on," Ryan demanded. 

"Thank God. I might have had to kick you out after all if you said no." He grabbed the remote and turned it on the middle setting, the breeze rustling his hair. He took off his glasses then, setting them down beside his phone before climbing under the covers. 

"You're the one who was talking about being a good host. Wouldn't it have been you leaving the room instead of me?" Which made him briefly wonder if he should have said no after all. 

"That's only if I was a good host, which I said I wasn't." He reached up, turning off his own lamp, submerging them in darkness. "Wait, do you need a nightlight?" He was only half joking. 

Ryan snorted. "I'll be fine. You're here anyway." He didn't mean for that to sound like it did, but . . . Too late now. He sent silent thanks to whatever higher being was watching that Shane couldn't see how red his face felt. 

"I'm hardly radiating any light," Shane joked, trying to ease the awkwardness of the atmosphere. 

"Ha, ha." Ryan kicked him, which caused Shane to jerk his legs away. 

"Christ, Ryan! Your feet are fucking cold." 

"Here, I can warm them up real quick." He sought out Shane's legs to tuck them under, but Shane kept jerking around. 

"Knock it off, Ryan! This isn't funny. Don't make me put pillows between us to mark your side of the bed." 

"But I'm cold," Ryan whined, continuing to kick his legs into Shane's until they both hit each other and shouted different swear words. "Okay, okay! I'm done," he laughed. "They're warm now." 

"Thank God," Shane said, exasperated. "I was so worried for your toes' well being." 

He let out another laugh before they were submerged in quietness. The fan was the only thing going, and it was loud enough that they couldn't even hear each other's breaths. 

Minutes passed, and then it had felt like hours, but it couldn't have been, because Ryan was still blinking up at the ceiling, unmoving. 

"Ry," Shane whispered. 

"Hm?"

"You are so stiff right now, even the mattress won't sink in. Relax. Stop overthinking." Even though he was doing the same exact thing. He just wasn't as stiff as a board. 

Ryan wanted to respond, but he had nothing witty up his sleeve. He let himself relax a little (or so he thought) and let out a deep breath. 

After a few minutes, Shane said, "I can still feel it." 

Ryan let out an annoyed groan. "Sorry! I don't know what you want me to do about it." 

Shane sighed. "Sit up."

"What?"

"Sit up, come on." 

"But you're not si-"

"Ryan, I swear on everything that is holy, just sit up and trust me." Stubborn ass until the end, that man. 

Ryan rose slowly, unsure of what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to say something, when Shane's arm snaked around his torso and yanked him down so he was half laying across his chest. "Wh-"

"Just hush. No speaking." He readjusted himself on the bed until he was comfortable, still keeping his hold on Ryan. "You're staying like this until you relax. I want to sleep too, and I can't do that when you're all wood plank over there." And it was bothering him that Ryan felt so uncomfortable. He never felt this way before in the past. Which made his mind wander . . . And hope. Things were definitely changing. He could feel it, though he stayed silent on it. 

"I wasn't that stiff," Ryan muttered into Shane's chest. He moved his head, stopping when he could hear the thump, thump, thump of Shane's steady heartbeat. He listened to the rhythm, slowly relaxing in Shane's hold as he counted each beat. 

After reaching one hundred and twenty six, his eyes began to droop closed and his breaths grew deeper and longer. Within minutes, he was fully knocked out, half sprawled across Shane, who couldn't believe this was actually happening. 

He had thought about this moment a dozen times before, but they never took place in his old bedroom in his parent's basement. Mostly because all his scenarios were fantasies, as in, never going to happen. 

But it was. 

Happening. 

And his heart picked up speed, pounding in his chest. The thrill and excitement of this was overwhelming, and he willed his heart to slow down just a bit, because it was bedtime. 

However, he wanted this to last a little longer, because who knows if this would ever happen again. He wanted to soak it in, remember every detail. 

The way Ryan's upper half rose and lowered with every breath Shane took. The way his arm was limply draped over his stomach. The way he wasn't so stiff and worried about every little thing, his brain overthinking. 

This . . . He wanted to get used to this. 

But he couldn't. So he let his own eyes slip closed, and let himself think about what it might be like to do this every night. 

And coincidentally, it was the best night's sleep either of them had in a long while. 

~~~

Ryan bolted up in bed when he heard a loud bang from above. His breath caught in his throat, and he took a minute to look around and remember where he was. 

Shane stirred in the bed beside him, also waking up, albeit a little slower. "What's wrong? What happened?" Sleep laced his tone, and it was a sound that sent shivers down Ryan's spine. He . . . Liked it. 

"Nothing. Sorry. Habit." 

Shane looked at him oddly. "You commonly wake up that quickly, gasping for air?" 

"I wasn't gasping for air," Ryan argued. "I just . . . Forgot where I was, I guess. And that bang scared me." 

"The house isn't haunted, I swear. Nothing to be afraid of here." Shane reached over and grabbed his phone, checking the time. "It's nearly ten thirty." He set the phone back down and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Mom's usually up and cooking by now. She probably dropped a pot or pan on the floor that woke you up." It wasn't unusual, that's for sure. 

Multiple voices rang out from down the hall, causing Ryan and Shane to share a look. 

"Hm. Guess the family is arriving early this year." He wished he would have had some warning at least. "Sorry. I didn't know we would be waking up to all this."

Ryan waved him off. "It's fine. I just wish I didn't have to immediately get dressed." He laughed a little. God, were they really having a normal conversation like this after last night? Ryan couldn't remember if Shane was still holding onto him when he bolted upright this morning, but he had been hanging on when he fell asleep. And that wasn't a normal thing - for either of them. It pained Ryan to know that he had slept so soundly that way as compared to the night before. Were they going to sleep like that again? They still had another night to spend in the same bed. 

"Just look on the bright side," Shane said. "We don't have to put on real clothes at all tomorrow. It's pj's all day, baby!" Which was one of his favorite things about Christmas day. Doing absolutely nothing in comfy clothes. 

Ryan groaned and flopped back down on the bed. "But that's tomorrow. That doesn't help me now." He went to pull the covers up over his head, but Shane gripped them and held them down. 

"No, come on."

"Shane-" Ryan tried to whine. 

"No, you're stalling and it's not gonna work. Come on, get up." He nudged Ryan lightly towards the edge of the bed. "You only have to meet everyone once and then you're done. No more first meetings ever." That includes if Ryan decided to come back with him next year. It was the same family every time. No one new ever attended. 

"But I still have to do it," he grumbled. 

"You can cry into the pillow later tonight. Get up." Shane pushed the covers down, taking Ryan's half with him. He grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and put them on, looking over his shoulder. "I promise it won't be that bad." 

Ryan had no idea why he was even nervous in the first place. Meeting Shane's Aunt Mags wasn't bad - not at all. In fact, he doesn't even recall saying much to her, if anything. And she was nice. 

He rolled out of the bed and reached for his own glasses. "You want the bathroom first?" 

Shane shook his head. "Nah, you go ahead. I need to grab a quick shower." Since he hadn't been able to get one yesterday with everything going on. 

"I could have stayed in bed the entire time you showered!" Ryan complained. 

"It takes me five minutes to shower! What were those five minutes going to do for you?" 

"Those five minutes could have made a huge difference." He didn't know towards what, but they could have. 

"Shut up," Shane wheezed. "Go do whatever you need so I can shower." 

Ryan got up and grabbed a few things from his suitcase, taking them down the hall to the bathroom. It felt much cooler outside the bedroom, and he shivered as he made his way down the hall. 

He silently sent a thanks to the Man upstairs for allowing him to not run into anyone, and quickly swapped out his glasses for contacts and brushed his teeth after he got dressed. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fix the bits that stood up. Normally he would just stick on a hat, but this was not a hat kind of occasion. 

Once he was finished, he opened up the door and nearly had a heart attack. "Fucking christ, Shane!" 

The taller man had been leaning against the doorframe, smiling down stupidly at Ryan. "Finally." 

"Quit being annoying." Ryan shoved passed Shane, his heart still pounding wildly in his chest from the scare. 

Shane laughed as Ryan briskly walked down the hall and back to their shared bedroom. "Five minutes!" He called out. 

Ryan shut the door behind him, acting as if he hadn't heard Shane's taunts. He noticed Shane had made the bed while he was getting ready, so he softly sat down on it to avoid ruining it. He grabbed his phone to occupy his next five minutes. 

True to his word, Shane arrived back in the room five minutes later, with damp, slicked back hair and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. "Ready to brave the upstairs?"

"Don't make it sound like we are heading into battle." 

Shane deepened his voice and dramatically announced,  "For some, this is no easy feat." 

Ryan couldn't help the wheeze that left his throat. "Shut up." He tossed his phone aside, not really needing it. The only person he really talked to was here with him. 

He followed Shane out of the bedroom, and nervously wrung his hands together as they trekked up the steps to where the voices rung out. Laughter filled the entire upstairs, with some background noise of the TV and commotion in the kitchen. It sounded . . . Like a home. 

When they rounded the corner at the top of the steps, cheers filled the air like it was a welcoming party. 

"Finally!" A woman shouted. "They have risen!" 

A little girl ran across the living room and slammed right into Shane's legs, hugging them tightly. "Shane!" She yelled. "I've been waiting forever!" 

Shane laughed, leaning down to hug her back. "Hey, Maria. I haven't seen you in forever. Are you getting shorter?" 

The little girl - Maria - giggled. "No! I think you're getting taller." 

"I'd believe that," Ryan chimed in. 

Maria looked passed Shane at Ryan, who stood at half his height. "Is this him!?" She exclaimed. 

Shane gave her a look before answering, "This is Ryan. And he's also short like you, so you two already have that in common."

"I'm literally the same height as everyone else here. Except your dad," Ryan pointed out. Yeah, it was no doubt who Shane got his height from. 

"Yeah, and you're all short." 

"At least we can walk through doorways without the need to hunch over," a woman with long, black hair called out from the kitchen. 

Ryan nudged Shane with his elbow. "One point for the shorties." 

Rolling his eyes, Shane pulled Ryan further into the living room until they were standing in the archway that connected to the kitchen. "Before we continue this bully session, I'd like everyone to meet Ryan. Ryan, the little girl back there is Maria, which is Susanna's daughter." He pointed to the woman with the black hair, who gave a small wave. "Over there next to my mom is her husband, David."

"Nice to meet you," David said politely with a nod of his head. 

Ryan returned the gesture, unaware of the smile on his face. So far, so good. 

"Then we have - wait. Where are-" Except Shane didn't get to finish, because the door back by the stairs that leads into the backyard burst open, and two, loud boys stumbled through it, followed by one that was much taller than them. "Ah, Miller and Zachary," Shane announced. "Followed by my brother, Josh." 

That explains the height of the guy. 

"Miller and Zach are brothers, which belong to my brother behind them." Shane stepped away from Ryan and went to give his brother a hug. He ruffled the hair of the two boys who were still arguing, drowning out any other sound upstairs. 

"You two!" Josh yelled. "You two need to shut up. The whole damn neighborhood can hear you." 

Shane laughed before making his way back to Ryan's side. "They're the loudest ones here. So expect them to never shut up during this entire day." 

"Hey!" They both shouted at the same time. 

"It's true," Sherry said from the kitchen. "Always fighting. Always disagreeing. But I remember two boys who were just like that sometime ago." 

Josh walked into the kitchen, sliding smoothly onto one of the free barstools. "We may have fought to a degree, but not as much as those two." He rubbed at his temples. "I can't get them to stop. Ever. I should have got them boxes of coal for Christmas." 

"Let them borrow our makeup shirt Mom used to force us to wear when we wouldn't stop arguing," Shane suggested, leaning on the doorframe. 

"I feel like that would only end one way, and that's with a trip to the ER," Josh informed. 

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, with Susanna saying, "Isn't that the truth."

"What is this makeup shirt?" Ryan asked. 

Sherry snorted. "Shane's never told you about that? Boy, do I have pictures."

"The story will do just fine, Mom," Shane told her. He rather die than look at those photos. "Basically it was a large shirt that fit both me and my brother. We would have to wear it at the same time. And we weren't allowed to get out of it until we 'made up' or whatever."

"Usually they'd both cry until my ears couldn't take it anymore," Sherry informed. "All red faced and-"

"Okay, okay!" Shane quickly ushered Ryan out of the kitchen before Sherry could share more embarrassing details. 

Ryan was chuckling the whole way to the couch, plopping down on the end. 

Shane sat right next to him, their legs touching. "I'm glad to see my childhood turmoil is so funny to you."

Ryan shrugged. "Now you know what it's like for me when we go on ghoul hunts."

"That's hardly the same!" Shane argued. 

"It's exactly the same! You think my fear of ghosts and demons is funny." 

"It's not that," Shane laughed. "It's how dramatic you get over it. Like listening to the spirit box or screaming your head off when the flashlights turn off and on." 

"That was one time and that was at the Sallie House  - a place we can all agree is fucking scary." He would never go back there as long as he lived. They had been to numerous locations yet none of them had put so much fear into Ryan's soul.  

"It wasn't pleasant, I'll give you that." Arguably, Shane thought the scariest place was Waverly. Something about that body chute made him want to run for the hills. 

After that, they sat quietly and watched TV, listening to some of the conversations that drifted in from the kitchen. Every now and then, Shane would yell back with his input or comment, which earned many laughs and another round of storytelling. 

The atmosphere of the house was warm. Joyful. Everything about it screamed holidays, and it was a feeling Ryan wasn't sure he felt in years. In fact, he wasn't sure if it felt quite like this when he was a kid. The house smelled perfect from the food being cooked in the kitchen, and the laughter of Shane's family tied it all together. This is what family holidays should look like. Smell like. Feel like. And though he wasn't a part of Shane's family, he really felt like it. 

And suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over him. They were going to leave in only a few days and fly back to California. He didn't understand now Shane did this - come here, have a good time, and then fly back across the country until next year. Of course, Shane did come back a couple times throughout the year and not just in December, but this is where his family is. How could he leave this all behind? And for what? Sunny weather and a warm day? He didn't even like the beach that much. 

Shane suddenly tapped Ryan's head with his finger, startling him from his thoughts. "What's going on up there?" 

"Who knows," Ryan answered.

Shane frowned at him. "I think you do and you're just not wanting to tell me." 

"It's fine," Ryan lied. "I'll tell you later." He had no plans on sharing his thoughts, and he hoped Shane would forget about it after a few hours. 

"Hmm," Shane hummed, not quite believing him, but he let it go. 

"Please don't make out on the couch!" Maria said, sticking out her tongue in a sickly expression. "Mom and Dad are super gross about it too." 

Shane laughed it off, but Ryan slunk down in his seat. Did anyone else here think they were-

"We aren't going to kiss, Maria," Shane answered. "Or makeout." 

"Then why are you two sitting so close?" She pestered. "There's so many seats and-" 

"Maria!" Susanna chided. "Leave them be." 

Maria scurried back to the kitchen with her head ducked down. 

"Sorry," Shane offered. "I don't know why she thought that." But he had a hunch, which meant his family had been talking. 

Ryan shook his head. "It's no big deal." Yes it was. His heart beat off rhythm, and his mind flooded with more thoughts, as if he needed them. His brain was already cluttered. He didn't need more thoughts cramming in there. 

"Let's eat!" Sherry shouted from the kitchen, and thundering of footsteps bounded up the stairs. 

Zach and Miller were the first in line to grab a plate, which surprised no one. They behaved as if they never got fed. 

"The good news," Shane began, rising from the couch, "is that we all can't fit at the table, so we just eat wherever we want." 

It was so . . . Casual, Ryan was a bit stunned. 

"Do you want me to grab you a plate?" Shane asked, looking down at Ryan. 

"No, I can come." He made to stand up when Shane put a hand on his shoulder and made him sit back down. "What?"

"Actually, on second thought, sit here. I'm going to be the good host you longed for last night."

Ryan rolled his eyes. Why did Shane choose now of all times to play host? "I'll save you a seat." Not that he expected anyone else to come sit beside him on the couch. 

"I hope so. I might get a little jealous if Maria comes over here to sit next to you." 

Ryan laughed. "I'll take whatever is out there. I'm not picky." 

Shane made a face. "I know what you do and don't like by now, Ryan. Don't worry about it." He went to the kitchen to grab a plate. 

Relaxing in his seat, Ryan let out a sigh. He felt a little relieved, and he hadn't realized how stiff he had been holding himself. However, there was a part of him wondering how all of this felt so right and natural. Shane making him plate . . . Ryan saving him a seat. It was almost like a song and dance they've done numerous times, but Ryan knew they hadn't. This was, in fact, a first. 

Ryan hadn't even noticed Mags had entered the living room until she said, "You're smitten." 

"What? Smitten? No, I'm-"

She held up a hand, silencing him. "Let me give you a quick piece of advice," she said, sitting down next to him. "I've lived a while longer than you, and have had many lovers come and go. I've had many friends and many foes. But at some point, you've got to decide who is who. Everyone in this house can see the way you deny yourself something you want." 

"I'm not denying anything," Ryan argued lamely. 

"Maybe you don't think so, but you're not even allowing yourself the possibility, are you? That's why you're so . . . Reserved. And inward. I've known Shane for a very long time, and that man is particularly good at hiding true feelings when it comes to looks. He's as stoic as they come. Pulls off a good poker face. Even delivers lines with nonchalance. But all the details are in the words, Ryan. In the actions." She patted his thigh, saying nothing more as she stood from the couch and walked off just as Shane walked in. 

"Good, you kicked her out of my reserved seat." He handed Ryan a full plate of food. "Hold on, there's trays behind this chair." He went and grabbed two, unfolding them and placing one in front of Ryan. "Is it to your liking?"

Ryan cocked his head slightly like a dog listening to a phrase. 

The details are in the words. 

He looked up at Shane, meeting his eyes, blinking slowly. "Yeah," he choked out. 

Shane's face quickly turned to concern. "You didn't even see what I got you. What did Mags say to you?" It couldn't have been that bad. 

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it." He looked down at the plate, seeing Shane had got him a slice of ham, along with corn, macaroni, coleslaw, and a roll. "This all looks really good."

"Ryan."

He looked up at Shane again. "What?" 

"What did she say?"

"Shane, it's fine. She was just talking to me, that's all. Why? What do you think she said?" He must have some notion if it was bothering him so bad. And that thought bothered Ryan. Was he really . . . Hiding details in his words? All this time? And Ryan never noticed? 

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you," Shane lied. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ryan said, "I'll tell you tonight, okay? When we . . . Go to bed or whatever." Just when they were alone. Ryan couldn't handle an audience. 

"Do you promise?" Shane asked. 

Ryan wanted to so badly say no and be truthful, but he knew that Shane wasn't letting this one go any time soon. They were going to have to talk about this - whatever this was - sooner or later. This trip changed something between them. Ryan could feel it in the air. See it in the dark. Hear it in the silence. He didn't know what it was. And it scared him. 

However, he barely managed saying, "Yes."

Shane nodded once, dropping the topic. He went back to the kitchen to make his own plate, and returned shortly after, along with two drinks. 

They sat next to each other in silence, and it was . . . Awkward. Actually fucking awkward. Ryan had no idea what to say, and it was clear Shane was stewing in silence. He had to have known somewhat of Mags said to him, otherwise he'd have no reason to be acting like this. 

Which means  . . .

Was Mags right? Was Shane actually . . . Really . . . 

"It's Christmas Eve!" Sherry announced from the archway. "Why are you two acting like you're eating a prison meal?" 

Ryan would much rather be eating a prison meal than living in this bubble of awkward tension. 

"We're fine, Mom," Shane said with little emotion. 

Sherry frowned, coming into the living room so she was closer to them. "Tell me what happened." 

"I couldn't," Shane said. "Only Mags could." He gave her a look, and she just knew. She knew what Mags had done. Or said. 

"Shane . . ." she offered sympathetically. 

"Just - let's not do this right now, okay? We are trying to eat have a nice time." 

Sherry looked between the two boys. "It hardly sounds like you're trying to have a nice time when you're gritting words through your teeth." 

Shane gripped his fork tightly, scraping it across the plate and making a horrendous sound. "I'm fine. We're fine. Right, Ryan?"

Ryan pressed his lips together, nodding. 

"Shane," Sherry said sternly. 

Shane looked over at Ryan, who was pushing food around on his plate, not even looking up. He let out a rather viscous sounding growl, dropping his fork and leaning back on the couch. With a big sigh, he let himself relax. "Christ. Christ. Ryan, I'm sorry. For whatever she said, just ignore it for now and I'll try to do the same. I don't want this afternoon to be ruined by . . . Whatever the hell she said." He sat back up, grabbing his fork. "Just - I'm sorry." 

"There's nothing to apologize for," Ryan assured. "I mean it." If anything, Ryan should be apologizing to him. At least, that's what he thought. 

They both let out heavy sighs before Shane started laughing. "God. What a shit show." 

"It's not that bad," Ryan replied. "Just . . . The timing is a little inconvenient." Was it? Maybe Ryan would have wished this waited until after Christmas, when Shane's entire family wasn't here. He didn't want the two of them to have an awkward atmosphere on Christmas Eve of all nights. What a way to ruin the very thing they came up here for. 

"Well, that's Aunt Mags for you. Always trying to do what's right and what's best without any regard for what comes after." He stabbed at the ham on his plate, appetite gone. But his mother made this meal, and he was going to eat it. 

Ryan didn't know what to say to that, so he forced himself to eat the helpings on his plate, not wanting to waste any food. It was all good - great, in fact! He just . . . Didn't feel like eating. Not with all the thoughts swirling through his head and the emotions filling his heart. 

It felt like a pressure had rested there, growing heavier and heavier with each minute they avoided the topic of conversation. The awkwardness never quite went away, and the conversation they had was small and forced. Nothing about it flowed natural like it normally did. 

As the afternoon went by, they found themselves helping Sherry in the kitchen, cleaning up the food to put in the fridge for leftovers tomorrow. Everyone else had gathered in the living room, talking and laughing as if everything was okay. 

It is for them, Ryan supposed. Nothing he was currently thinking or feeling had to do with them. Just one person in particular. And it was killing him not to be able to say what he wanted. 

On one hand, if Mags was right and Shane really did . . . Have feelings, then there was nothing to fear. The conversation would probably turn out great and end well for the both of them. But if she was lying or Ryan misunderstood what she had been saying, then he would make everything worse by mentioning it. The day wouldn't get better, and they still had to sleep in the same bed tonight due to all the company. 

These thoughts carried over to later in the night when everyone crowded back into the kitchen for the traditional craft making Shane bad mentioned to Ryan a couple days prior. 

They were both seated at the table across from one another, as compared to earlier when they sat side by side. Instead, Maria sat next to Ryan and Mags sat next to Shane. 

Ryan's eyes glided across the table, looking at the various craft supplies spread across the red tablecloth. There were a variety of things, from pipe cleaners to popsicle sticks, and glitter glue to googly eyes. Ryan had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to make, and decided to watch Maria start on her craft so he could get an idea of just what the hell they were doing. 

He had never heard of this as a tradition, and thought he might actually rather bake cookies. Because at least with those, there were set instructions to follow. With this, he was supposed to be free. And creative. And he would enjoy that any other day of the week, but sitting here, with a family he barely knows, using crafts to express himself . . . Well, he didn't quite know what to make that said, I'm Ryan Bergara, this is me! 

"You don't have to think too hard about it, Ry," Shane said quietly from across the table. "Just make something. Anything. I know you've got hundreds of creative ideas up there." He pointed to Ryan's head with a popsicle stick. 

"Yeah, for stuff that's not handmade! I haven't made a craft since, like, kindergarten. I don't know what I'm doing." 

Shane chuckled, a small smile forming on his face. "You're not solving equations. You can literally make a mountain of glitter glue on a stick and that would be fine. A little questionable, but at least you made something." 

Questionable. Which seemed to be the theme of this entire evening. At least for Ryan, it was. 

He wasn't going to go with a mountain of glitter glue like Shane horribly suggested, but he had grabbed some popsicle sticks and sparkly green pipe cleaners, and began to connect them by wrapping the cleaners around the sticks until he made a triangle shape that held together. 

It was a pathetic little Christmas tree, if he did say so himself. 

"You two are terrible!" Mags shouted suddenly, causing the entire kitchen to grow quiet. "You two have barely spoken to each other this entire time. It's craft making for Pete's sake! A fun time for everyone! I'm not going to have a repeat of a couple years ago, Shane. We still remember that awful experience." 

Shane didn't even look at her, but his fists were clenched so hard, he snapped the stick in his hand in two. "Mags," he said lowly in warning. "Stop." 

"No. I think you two need to have a discussion," she stated, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. 

"I think you need to mind your own business," Shane snapped. Which was very unlike him. He didn't get mad at people hardly ever. 

"It became my business when the entire kitchen could feel how uncomfortable you're both making this. I tried to help things along and clearly my efforts were fruitless."

Ryan wanted to so badly sink down in his seat and never get back up. He wouldn't mind it if a black hole opened up and took him away from here. 

"Your efforts should have never been made!" Shane shouted. "This is my life. That's my friend and I invited him here to have a nice holiday because he doesn't get to have those top often back home. I thought he could really enjoy this one because of how homey and comforting it is, but all you've done is gone and ruined that for not only him, but for me! Did you even think about what you said to him before you said it?" He clenched his teeth, grinding them to prevent himself from opening his mouth and yelling even more. He had already made this worse. He didn't want to make the day a complete dumpster fire. 

"You don't even know what I said," Mags argued. 

"No, but I can take a pretty great guess," Shane spat. 

"Then tell me what I said. Tell me." 

Shane should have known she was still playing tricks, but all he could see was anger and fear, he didn't stop to think that his next few words were going to change literally everything. "You probably told him I'm in love with him! Didn't you? You went and told him I had feelings that I've been hoarding to myself all this time, huh?" He rose up from the table, unable to make eye contact with Ryan in front of him. "You had no right, Mags. None. Things were fine as they were and now they're not." He pushed the chair back behind him and stormed from the kitchen and went outside, letting the storm door slam shut behind him. 

The entire kitchen was submerged in silence. Ryan remained still as a statue, hoping that if he didn't move, everyone would forget he was even sitting there. Unfortunately for him, Mags didn't forget. 

"Things will be fine. Won't they, Ryan?" She smirked slightly. 

Ryan didn't say anything, instead quietly rising from the table and following the same path as Shane. He went outside, the cold air slamming into his face. He took a few steps out onto the crunchy grass, looking for his friend. 

He spotted him pacing back and forth on the side of the house, and Ryan couldn't remember a time he had seen him so . . . Distraught. Shane didn't get distraught. He was always calm, cool. Never worried. Never nervous. He was always so confident in everything he did except now . . . 

"Shane?" 

He stopped his pacing, facing Ryan who stood twenty feet away, arms folded to try and keep warm. "Go back inside. I just need a minute." 

"No, we need a minute," Ryan corrected, closing the space between them. "Your . . . aunt didn't quite say those exact words." He thought he should know. 

Shane snorted, but it was in no humor. "Great. So I outed myself then. Lovely." 

"Not exactly," Ryan assured. "She told me you . . . Have feelings, but never said to what extent. She told me your confessions were in the details of your words or some shit like that." On second thought . . . "She actually never said you have feelings for me. She just said the right words to make me conclude that." And she hadn't been wrong. "Everything sort of slammed into me after that." 

"Ryan, I'm sorry," Shane said, his words so full of sadness, Ryan swore his heart was going to crack. 

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he whispered. 

Snow flurries began to dance in the space between them, falling onto the ground. 

"There is," Shane insisted. "I don't take back anything that's happened over the past two days, but today was . . . Awful. And it was supposed to be the best one. And she went and said shit she had no right in saying." 

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, maybe she had no right to tell me those things, but if she hadn't, were you going to?" 

Shane blinked at him. "I thought I was going to. But every time I thought about it, I couldn't follow through. I couldn't do that to you. To us." 

Ryan pressed his lips together nervously. "Can I tell you something?" 

Shane swallowed thickly, nodding. "Just be easy on me." 

A real laugh escaped Ryan's lips as he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I never could." He took another step closer to Shane, then another until they were just inches apart. "I never let myself  . . . Think about this like . . . This." His laughter was a bit nervous. "Sometimes a thought may have crossed my mind that was a bit more than friendly, but I always shut it down because there was no sense in me thinking something so . . . Unreasonable." 

"Ryan-"

"No, shut up" Ryan instructed, cutting him off. "I'm not done." He took another deep breath. "It was unreasonable because I was imagining something I thought didn't exist. And it would only end up hurting me if I kept running with it. And I couldn't do that. To me . . . Or to us." He smiled lightly. "But with the help of your Aunt Mags, I found out that my unreasonable imagination wasn't actually unreasonable." 

"Ry," Shane whispered. "Please just tell me." It was killing him. His heart was pounding so hard, he was certain he was about to send himself into a heart attack. 

Ryan looked up at the man who towered over him, and the snow began to fall harder, the flakes sticking to Shane's hair and clothes. "I love you. I do." He swallowed the lump in his own throat. “And I think I knew that for certain yesterday after the accident. I got so scared, Shane. I could have lost you before I even had you.” 

Shane exhaled loudly, and he could have swore tears were about to spill from his eyes. That’s why Ryan had been acting extra weird yesterday. It all made sense now.

"I’ve loved you for a long time, but I never allowed myself to. Because it was unreasonable,” Ryan finished. 

"It's not," Shane assured. "It's not unreasonable, I promise. I've loved you for what feels like forever and I . . . I want you to love me. Allow yourself. To be reasonable. For once in your life, please be reasonable." His hands somehow found their way to Ryan's shoulders. 

"I'm always reasonable, what the fuck do you mean?" Ryan wheezed. 

"Ryan, please. I've seen you at your most unreasonable countless times."

"Leave the ghosts and ghouls out of this." He shoved Shane playfully. "But this is just as terrifying as all those times," he admitted quietly. 

"Don't be afraid," Shane whispered. 

"I find it hard to be when you're here with me." 

The snow fell steadily around them as they stared into each other's eyes, unmoving. The Christmas lights along the house lit up the space they occupied as Shane slowly pulled Ryan closer to him and placed his fingers on his chin to make Ryan look up at him. "Is this okay?" 

"More than that," Ryan said, barely above a whisper. 

Shane leaned down slowly, and gently pressed his lips to Ryan's, kissing him for the first time like he always dreamed of doing. They fit together perfectly, body against body, lips against lips. 

When they pulled away, Ryan could barely open his eyes, too busy focusing on the feeling of his lips. 

"What's in your pocket?" Shane asked suddenly, reaching inside the front of Ryan's hoodie and pulling out . . . "Why is this horrendous ornament in your pocket?" 

Ryan couldn't help but laugh loudly. "I forgot that was in there." He wore this hoodie two days ago and just remembered he had forgotten to give the ornament back to Sherry. 

Shane turned and threw it far into the field. "We don't need it anymore." 

"Why? Your mom collects those." It was mean to just toss it out. 

"Yes, she does, but that one is an awful reminder. Besides, she has a new one to make up for it." He bopped Ryan on the nose with his finger. "She's got yours." He grabbed Ryan's hand, intertwining their fingers. 

"I think you owe Mags an apology," Ryan said as they walked back to the house, hand in hand. 

"I think I do, too," Shane laughed. He opened the door and walked back inside, still holding onto Ryan's hand. 

Everyone stood in the kitchen and stared at the two before erupting into loud cheers and yells. In the front of the group was Sherry, who couldn't stop the few tears that trickled from her eyes. 

"Finally!" She shouted, running towards Shane and hugging him tightly. "I'm so happy for you, baby. You waited so long." 

Shane squeezed her back, trying to contain his own waterworks. "I know, Mom. I know. You can't rush love. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Once or twice," she said, thought it was more like every time she spoke to him about Ryan. She stepped away from her son and looked at Ryan before hugging him too. She had no words for him, other than a small, "Thank you." 

Once everyone had settled down, they went back onto the kitchen to finish their ornaments, and Shane also gave Mags an apology. 

"You still had no right," he said, "but thank you. For speeding it up, I guess." 

She laughed and hugged him, mending their argument. "I'm sorry, Shane, but it was killing us as bad as it was killing you. And no offense, Ryan, but you are blind. So blind," she muttered. 

Ryan felt his cheeks heat up, but when Shane sat next to him and patted his thigh, the redness faded away. All he saw was Shane, and everything else faded into the background, practically nonexistent. 

Later that night when they went to bed, Shane held onto Ryan tightly, as if he might disappear when they wake up. 

"This is happening," Shane said into the darkness, feeling Ryan's body rumble on top of his with laughter. 

"It is," Ryan agreed. 

Shane buried his nose into Ryan's hair, smiling. He still couldn't believe it. Not in the slightest. He wasn't going to let go anytime soon. Awake or asleep. "I could stay like this forever," he mumbled. 

"We can," Ryan said. "Well, for one day. After Christmas, we have to go back to some sort of normal. Like getting out of bed . . ." 

"Don't remind me," Shane grumbled. 

Ryan laughed. "But we can have this. All day." 

Shane pulled away, looking at the clock on Ryan's side of the bed. He'd be damned . . . It was far past midnight. "Merry Christmas, Ry."

Ryan shifted so he could face Shane, and leaned up to kiss him. 

Yeah. This was completely normal. 

There were no questions about it.