Ryan calls Shane "the nation's greatest tragedy".
It's a bit, a playful rib. But something in it stings Shane, like getting nicked while shaving. It shouldn't bother him, but it does.
He spends the rest of the day in a funk over it. Of course Ryan notices because they sit right next to each other, always in each other's pockets. Shane hates it a little at moments like these when he just wants to wallow and sulk. Ryan, the embodiment of sunshine, puppies, and all things sweet, can never have that. He's always got to try to improve the mood.
So he ribs Shane more, teases him about simple problems and, at one point, calls him dumb. It causes something to break in Shane and he stops what he's doing, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Ryan's smile fades as Shane doesn't show any sign of laughing. He leans over and asks if he's okay. Shane pauses, then says: "It's a lot of work, being the nation's greatest tragedy." He attempts a laugh, but it comes out mirthless.
Ryan immediately knows he fucked up. He grabs Shane by the wrist and drags him to the men's room, locking the door behind them.
"You have to know I didn't mean that, Shane." He says.
"I do?" Shane questions. Ryan sighs and corners him against the sink, reaching up to caress his cheek.
"You're far from any tragedy, let alone the nation's greatest one."
Shane's stomach does flips. He really hopes he's reading the situation correctly as he leans down into Ryan's space. He feels like he won the jackpot when Ryan surges up that last bit and slots their lips together.
They feel like they were made to be together, attached just like this. It feels so perfect, so good, so right.
Shane forgets all the worries he's had throughout the day in Ryan's arms.
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