#bfu x reader

• Shane leads an interesting life

• Er, afterlife, I suppose, considering he had only sprouted his black, fluffy wings after being plucked from the land of the living

• But I digress

• Besides—he was happy

• He had never been the kind of demon to engage in all that blood torture and acult shit anyways. Instead, he took pleasure in harmlessly scaring assholes or the occasion teenager that he would stumble upon durring the witching hour—although that was mostly code for a three am dunkin' doughnuts run

• "The munchies are a serious thing, Ryan. What can I say?" He had shrugged nonchalauntly once, grinning goofily down at his friend that had just been asking about the bags under his eyes—which resulted in tales of his midnight snack runs. You stood with your arms crossed not too far away, shaking your head slowly, but Shane could see the hint of a smile tugging at your lips

• "You really meet to get better sleep, dude. I'd hate to postpone filming for TMS, but you know I will if you aren't up to it. Doesn't mean that Steven won't give you hell for not letting him do his bit with Ricky though." Ryan had just sighed, rubbing at his own eyes as if the conversation itself had tired him out. But just like how Shane had noticed with you, he could see the ravenette resisting the urge to smile

• "I mean, insomnia is the first sign of possession after all. Can't have a supernatural being living inside of the company, our fans would give us hell." At last came his joke. It earned a snort from you, pleasing Ryan, whose eyes crinkled at the edges pleasantly

• Shane just grinned sharply

• If only you two knew

• That was another fun thing about his chosen predicament

• I mean, come on. A demon who's best friends with someone terrified of them? All the while pretending he doesn't believe anything of the sort? At this point, he should just up and leave for Juliard. A degree in acting was a shoe in for sure with how he had been living the past few years of his eternal damnation

• And it was all the more fun with you there as well, the yin to his and Ryan's yang. Always ready with just the right thing to say in the moment or a shitty pun you had heard the other day. Throw Steven in the mix and the four of you were thick as fucking theives

• There were some downsides though. With life (er, death?) there always was

• Ghost Files was one of the things Shane looked forward to the most at Watcher. Doing Buzzfeed Unsolved had been amazing, and even though he was an inhuman being that could crumble businesses with a flick of his pointed tail if he wanted to—demons did play a part in evil corporations after all—it felt liberating to build Watcher from the ground up with Ryan, Steven, and you.

• Plus, there was the added bonus of more shows now—one of which included puppets. He particularly enjoyed that one

• But Ghost Files was the crowned jewel. The one thing everyone—crew, audience, staff, even cameramen—looked forward to

• What can I say. Old habits die hard—and most of these people had been doing Buzzfeed Unsolved since they could properly hold a mic. It felt good to do something familiar

• And that's what it had been like for Shane. He was excited, no, downright giddy, to be back in the element of ghosts and ghouls

• It was fun to watch you and Ryan skirt around an entirely ghost free house, nerves on end as the two of you jumped every little noise. Most of which Shane made

• That's not to say that the three of you didn't find haunted places. Oh no. You most certainly did. The Sally House was the most memorable of them

• That demon really had been ready to kill Ryan and you that night. Right on the pentagram in the basement. But Shane had been able to coax (read: threaten) it into not doing anything but flash a flashlight once or twice

• But sometimes, his true form wasn't enough to spook off the spooks, so to say. It was rare, but occasionally some brave, or incredibly stupid, ghosts would try their luck at laying a hand on you or Ryan

• That got them a one way ticket to the second death they would ever have the pleasure of experiencing. The one delt out by Shane being arguably worse than anything that happened in their mortal lifetime

• He cared for his people. It was as simple as that. So what if that made him unethical as a demon. He played around with hand puppets half the time for fucks sake and he enjoyed it. He was far from an ethical demon at this point, and he was fine with that

• Didn't mean that having to ward off spirits didn't put him into a bad mood though

• Shane would probably never admit it, but the idea of something hurting you two while he wasn't there to protect you left a taste as bad as brimstone in his mouth

• "Shane? Dude, you're looking pale. Well paler than usual." You had stopped in the middle of filming once to comment on his appearance, trying to hide the way you sucked at your cheeks with anxiety. "Don't tell me you've finally cracked and begun to get scared by all this."

• Ryan had smiled at your joke. But the smile slowly slid off his face as he took another look at Shane, who was not laughing in the slightest

• "That Taco Bell we ate earlier didn't settle well, that's all." Shane's excuse was flimsy, but he couldn't care less right then. He just wanted to stay as close to you two and the crew as possible in case another spirit tried anything

• "Alright. But if you need to say the word and we can take a break." You said steadily, jabbing Ryan in the gut playfuly when he didn't automatically back you up

• "Yeah! Yeah, what they said. And jeez you didn't have to hit me so hard. Asshole—"

• "Oh you wanna go Bergara?" You had laughed, comically winding your arm up like Popeye used to do in the cartoons. Ryan scoffed, donning his Ricky Goldsworth voice as he began to fake fight with you

• The sight was enough to bring a small smile to Shane's face. The two of you always managed to do that

• "Nerds." He chuckled, bad mood already begining to lift a little

"Back to where it all began" Ryan announced to the camera. I stifled a laugh and followed him as he did a dramatic slow walk towards the house. Shane just gave the camera a look and picked up his bag while shaking his head and walking ahead of us.

"We came here as boys, now we return as men.. and woman." Shane added, receiving a look from me as he glanced back at us.

"I'm glad to be back. How's it feel being your first time here Y/N?" Ryan asks, turning to me as I gaze up at the mansion.

"Gotta be honest, not looking very haunted from out here. In fact, it's really just beautiful." I say, turning to face the boys. Shane chuckles and nods. "Yeah, it wasn't very haunted last time we visited, on account of the fact that ghosts aren't real." He adds pointedly.

Ryan rolls his eyes at the tall man and picks up the sleeping bag he had dropped at his feet. Shane and I follow suit and the three of us walk through the doors of the mansion for a dramatic shot.

We all leave our belongings in a room and gather in the living room where the crew is setting up. I pull up a chair while Ryan rustles through his script papers.

After getting the mics and cameras set up, Ryan begins his reading for the history of the house. It was only 3pm, so we had plenty of time to get the narration done before we went hunting for the footage. "This week for the season premier on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we reinvestigate the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California, as a part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?" Ryan recites to the cameras, earning the usual shake of the head from Shane. I smile at the camera and turn back to Ryan as he continues with the history of the house.

"Avid fans of the show may remember that this is the site of our first paranormal investigation ever, and tonight, we return to once again tangle with Sarah Winchester and her cast of ghouls. This time stronger, faster, and more prepared with Y/N on our side. And tonight, we're actually gonna sleep here unlike last time." Ryan narrates as Shane and I make faces and gestors at the camera.

"You guys are lucky you brought me, because I brought snacks." I grinned, holding up a small backpack that crinkled as I let it drop the the floor.

"I'll stop by your room for concessions when Ryan's crying wakes me up then." Shane says while clapping his hands together, earning a glare from Ryan.

Upon nightfall, we head into our investigation. "You think you will talk to any ghosts this time? Maybe make some friends?" I tease Ryan as we head down a windowed corridor. "Shut it pip-squeak." He snaps back, shining his flashlight at me. "I'm literally like 2 inches shorter than you. If anyone here is short, is you, bite-sized bitch." I retort while panning my light over his figure.

"Could you two can it? You are both miniatures, no point in fighting about whose smaller." Shane says as he walks between the two of you. "Yeah? Says the walking fucking tree." I say, poking his back and sticking my tongue out at him. "Wow, real original, Shortcake." He scoffs while ruffling my hair. I reply by acting like I was going to bite him, and he laughs and keeps walking.

As we reach a peculiar set of stairs, Ryan tells a bit about them. "This is one of the stranger additions the the house, a set of stairs that leads to absolutely nowhere." Shane butts in "You know, if you walk up those there stairs, you'll find God!" He mocks in a crazy old man voice as I approach the steps. "Let's test it out and see!" I yell as I start dramatically climbing the stairs.

Once I was up as far as I could go, Ryan comments "Oh go on, you can go further than that!" I roll my eyes and turn around, curling up on the top set, squished against the ceiling. "Happy?!" I yell. "Sure am." Ryan says, laughing at my contorted body.

We continue touring the house, stopping to yell at ghosts and listen to Ryan talk about various facts. We eventually reach another door. "More rooms? I swear this house goes on foreverrrr." I whine. "Nope, this is a door you wouldn't want to go through." Ryan comments while tugging it open.

On the other side is a courtyard and a sheer drop. "That wasn't very well planned." Shane quips. I chuckle at him and Ryan just looks disappointed. I ignore them and carefully point my camera down to get a scary shot of the drop.

As I lean forward a bit, one of the boys nudges my back and I struggle to grab the doorframe. I turn and look at them and glare. "Not funny assholes." I growl as they look at me confused. "What are you talking about?" Ryan asks. "I'm talking about whichever one of you just fucking tried to push me." I hiss back. They give each other a look and I shake my head and turn back to the courtyard.

I crouch down to avoid them pushing me out and point my camera back down to finish the shot. As I'm panning my camera up, I get pushed again. This time I wasn't fast enough to grab the frame and I toppled out to the ground below. The boys shout as they and the crew rush out as fast as they can.

When they reach me in the courtyard, one of the crew members calls an ambulance. "Not.. funny." I grumble as I try pushing myself up. With a pained groan, I let myself fall back to the concrete.

Once the ambulance arrives, both the boys frantically ask them questions. The paramedics push them back, letting them know only family is allowed in the vehicle, and they will have to drive to the hospital. Shane convinces them to let him ride with me under the excuse of him "being my boyfriend". Ryan hops into the car and follows the ambulance to the hospital.

After a couple hours, a nurse entered the waiting room and informed the boys that they could come get me to be discharged. They both jumped up and followed her to my room and were greeted by the doctor.

"They have a concussion, fractured hip, a some scrapes and bruising. We got them all patched up. They'll be perfectly fine with some rest, just keep an eye on them." He says and looks up from his clipboard, directing his attention to Shane. "Try to hold off for a few weeks. Maybe more depending on how long the hip takes to heal." He comments, giving Shane a 'dad look' through his glasses.

Shane almost jumps to defend himself, before remembering telling the paramedics that he was my boyfriend. Instead, he just forces down a blush and nods at the doctor. The doctor just chuckles at him and looks back to his clipboard. "It looks like they are safe to leave. Remember to make sure they don't try to walk on their own and keep an eye on them." He says with a smile.

After getting back to my apartment, the boys helped to settle me in my bed. "So we talked to the producers on the way back, and they said we can schedule some time to go back if we need to, but I think we will have enough footage." Ryan explains while helping to grab some pajamas for me to change into. "And I sorted out your medical leave for you so you don't have to worry. I told them it was my fault."

"Wow, thanks for fessing up and telling them the truth." I said sarcastically as I rolled my eyes. Shane is quick to defend Ryan. "It wasn't his fault. Neither of us even touched you. You must have just fallen yourself." I scoff at him with a glare. "Then I'm gonna need to see that footage because you two are a bunch of lying assholes."

Ryan's eyes widen as he realizes. "OH MY GOD WE CAUGHT A FUCKING GHOST ON CAMERA." He yells causing me to cringe and cover my ears from my headache. "That or they are just clumsy as hell." Shane comments, earning another glare from me.

"Can I just get some sleep and have you assholes leave me be?" I half-joke as I reach for some water. "Nah, we've gotta keep an eye on you. Doctor's orders." Shane says cheekily. I throw my pillow at them and they laugh, bidding me goodnight.

“I noticed that you were having a crisis back in September?”

Because you had noticed. They usually liked the classics- history too- and every now and again a few excellent thrillers. But in the middle of September the flow changed to “The Myth of Sisyphus,” “On Death and Dying,” and “Notes from the Underground.” No one reads those back to back by choice. Unless, of course, the choice is made for you by some existential panic...

Maybe you were reading too much into it. But there was something fantastic about trying to piece together who they were and what was going on with them. It was like a secret conversation- a private and personal aside with a stranger. And that didn’t just happen every day- well- except on Fridays.

Breakfast that morning was quickly hurried through, as even though the shop didn’t open till ten, you were impatient. Grabbing a stack of your class notes, you shoved them in your bag and wrapped up your in coat and picked up your umbrella. It was nearly summer- but the clouds were still going to have their final say before vacating for the hot month.

The rain was warm and steady as you walked down the campus side street past the Arts buildings and into the coffee shop that was across the street from Calypso’s. As you drank your favorite drink and half read through your assignments, every so often you’d glance through the foggy window of the shop, letting your eyes drift across the street. You could feel yourself hoping- hoping almost beyond your own acknowledgement- to spy movement on the second floor- like a child peeping down the stairs on Christmas Eve. But no movement was seen, to your expected but still irksome disappointment.

Returning, more earnestly to your work, the hours ticked by and soon it was 10:30. Quickly, you packed up your things and waved goodbye to your favorite Barista. In a half-skip half-jog you splashed through the rain and bounded up the curb to the bookstore. Pushing through the weathered door, the bell rang above you, a nice and familiar sound.

Inside the store was already bustling with the regulars- who were already taking up their common haunts. While you were an avid patron, you couldn’t beat the dedication of some of them. The romantic lit professors practically ran their office out of Calypso's and could, without fail, always be found nesting in leather armchairs with stacks of papers and red pens by their side. Near them were the groupie grad students, mimicking every word the professors said and eagerly shuttling coffee back and forth across the street. They were all on the first floor today- as always.

You shuffled your way by them and around the displays of best sellers towards the back, passing the Wiccan Craft Club- they gathered here every Friday too. Today it was Sigil cross stitching. Spooky- but fun. One day you had the notion to join them and see what it was all about. Maybe they could help you find who “S” was you mused.

Taking the steps two at a time, you wound your way up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The worn rugs that lined the upper aisles softly gave way under your steps, as you followed the familiar path. Your eyes lit up.

“The Spy Who Came in from the Cold”

Well, that was an interesting selection. They usually didn’t pick espionage books. Excited, you picked up the book and began reading the summary- even though you knew you were going to buy it anyway. A wry smile formed on your face. It was about East Germany. Two months ago “S” had recommended a nonfiction book “Anatomy of a Dictatorship” that was all about the Soviets involvement in East Germany. You could put some of the pieces together.

Tucking a copy under your arm, you went back downstairs to the checkout. It was 10 till 11:00 and your lecture began at 11:20, so you couldn’t really linger any longer. Placing the book on the counter, you began to shuffle distractedly through your bag for your money.

“Great choice,” Hummed an unfamiliar voice.

Your attention quickly redirected to the register. Leaning over the counter, happily scanning the book, was an unusually tall and lanky guy with bright eyes that shone right through you. You had never seen him before, and you were sure of that because you would have remembered it. As he moved his long unruly swirls of chestnut hair made a bob and you could feel your ears turn red.

“Have you read it?” You managed to say, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes, actually, I have read that one- and I venture to think that you’ll enjoy it too,”

He smiled. His face was by no external metric perfect- but it had wonderful sort of charm- a charm that was making your brain go all fuzzy.

“Y’know,” He mused putting the book in a bag, “It is surprisingly hard to actually read when you work in a bookstore.”

“Too many choices?” You laughed- a nervous god awful laugh- but he didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s the agony of my existence!” He exclaimed with comedic air, “Sometimes- y’know- I’d rather walk into the sea then make a decision.”

You giggled, pressing your hand up to your mouth to stop it from running away from yourself.

“That’ll be 13.95,”

“Oh!” You jumped, forgetting that there was an actual transaction going on, and swiped your card. In between the digits of your pin you stole several glances upwards at his name tag.

“Shane,”

Your ears got redder with the realization- Shane! Was “S” for Shane? The anxiety of being around such a cute guy soared- neigh skyrocketed- in an instant.

Taking the bag from him you blurted out a shaky: “Thank-you”

“Don’t mention it-” He beamed, “Come back soon!”

You nodded. There needn’t be any worry. You would be back- and on more days than usual. Ripping your eyes away from him, walked out of the store and into the rain. Putting your umbrella up, you began to walk slowly towards your lecture hall- and for once you were thankful that it was on the other side of campus. The long walk there would give you time to cool off from whatever had just happened.

He might not even be “S” you told yourself. So what- he had read the book- he works in a bookstore- of course he is well read- of course he reads things. On top of that, you had never seen him before today and you had been reading the recommends for almost eight months now. In all likelyhood it wasn’t “S” and to think so was just wishful dreams… dreams…

“This place sure is… Woodsy.”

You could feel Shane and Ryan’s unimpressed stares burning into your back. You smiled anyway. You knew they secretly found you funny.

“Good eye. This place is pretty woodsy. It’s a forest. To be more specific, a forest that a body was found in this morning.” Ryan deadpanned. “Come on, we have some walking to do.”

You blinked, taking a moment to process. Out of all of the reasons you’d anticipated for this afternoon walk, that had been pretty far down the list. You figured Ryan was just taking a hike to stretch his legs- gotta stay fit, after all.

 So had the killer struck again like you’d predicted? Or was this unrelated business that they had dragged you along for? I suppose they could still have other facets of their jobs they have to take care of. And they can’t exactly leave me alone at the hotel.

“So. A body, huh? You wanna give some more details on that, Ry guy?” You slammed the car door shut behind you and sprinted to catch up to Ryan’s head start. You didn’t worry much about leaving Shane behind to lock up. He had long legs, he would catch up just fine.

“In due time.” He kept his focus ahead, face wiped clean of emotion. Behind you, the easily distinguishable sound of boots in mud made itself apparent.

“Come on, Ryan. Stop with the weird ‘mysterious facade’ and tell us why we’re walking through the woods.” Shane’s voice was good natured, as usual, but you could easily see that Ryan was only growing more tense as he spoke.

“You got the same report I did this morning. How about you read it?” Ryan snapped, and you cringed. When you turned to see how Shane took it, he was already facing you, eyebrows raised and expression incredulous.

Ryan’s shoulders were tensed, and you could hear him mumbling under his breath. You sidestepped a bit until you and Shane were only a few inches away, walking in silent, concerned solidarity.

Beside you, Shane pulled out his phone. You momentarily debated whether or not to peek at his screen, but before you could decide, he passed it over to you.

On the screen was a brief but official police report, and you instantly knew that you probably weren’t supposed to see it. You also probably weren’t supposed to be heading to the crime scene, being a wanted criminal and enemy of the law and all, but alas.

You skimmed over the report, taking note of the rather graphic photos and descriptions. This time was less sloppy than the last, if only a little.

“Think it’s the same killer?” Shane asked, keeping his voice quiet enough to stay under Ryan’s radar, lest he go off again.

“Without a doubt.” You could already see the pattern beginning. You guessed the first kill had been an accident, although what type of accident you weren’t sure. Had they accidentally killed the victim in a fit of rage without realizing what they were doing? Or had it been more of a freak accident involving something sharp? 

Either way, you deduced from the pictures that the killing blow had been a stab to the right lung. The same as today’s victim. An odd trademark to be sure, but definitely a trademark.

Shane didn’t question your answer, and you wondered if he picked up on the same thing you did. Probably. This is his job, after all. You’d be a little disappointed if he didn’t notice the obvious parallel between the deaths.

Shane tucked his phone back into his pocket, and you both turned your attention back to Ryan, who looked no less tense than he had before.

“Is it me, or is something up with him?” you whispered. Shane shrugged.

“I don’t know. He’s usually like this when we have to deal with bodies or messy crime scenes, but he does seem a bit worse today.” 

From Shane’s tone, you gathered that ‘a bit worse’ meant ‘concerningly worse’. You were almost endeared by how much worry he seemed to have for his friend and partner, but you were a bit too distracted with avoiding tripping over debris and tree roots to really appreciate it.

For maybe half a mile, the three of you hiked in silence.

“Alright guys, wait here.” It was the first time Ryan had spoken since he’d flipped out, and you were surprised by how subdued he sounded. 

You watched as he straightened, standing taller and more confidently. He didn’t even turn to face you and Shane, just marched into a clearing a few yards ahead.

“So. This is the place, huh?” you toed at the ground, attempting at casualty.

"Yup, our first stop on our way to catching a murderer."

"Besides me, you mean." You teased, going for a joke to lighten things. 

"Yeah," Shane looked away, and you followed his example, practically able to taste the awkwardness that had suddenly risen like a fog, "besides you."

You and Shane stood in silence for a moment. Clearly, the joke missed.

How long is it gonna take Ryan to get the clear to bring Shane and I down? You thought, bitterly. Normally Shane was easy company. Not today, apparently.

Honestly, why did you have to remind him that you’re a serial killer? Great job, making things awkward. 

“Alright.” You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping your gaze up to see Ryan, tapping his foot impatiently and looking tired. “Come on, we only have a few minutes. They aren’t too keen on having another serial killer on the scene.” You felt the venom in Ryan’s tone at the word ‘killer’.

You bowed your head a bit, playing up your shame at being called a serial killer. In truth? You couldn’t bring yourself to dislike it. It was a bit exciting, really, having your hobby recognized, and by a lead detective nonetheless. Here he was, one of the highest authorities in town, and he had dubbed you practically untouchable. He’d gone so far as to ask for your help.

“Did you explain that I’m helping, or…?”

“No. I don’t need to explain myself.” A bit of pride filtered through Ryan’s tone, and you smiled. That was more like it, you’d take anything over his behavior earlier. Though, you could still see his fingers fidgeting uneasily with his shirt sleeves.

“Well, what do you say we give those other officers a bit of reassurance?” You peered over Ryan’s shoulder, taking note of how they quickly looked at anything but you. “They seem a bit antsy, don’t they?”

Ryan turned to take a look for himself. When he looked back to you, he remained silent, an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“I guess?”

“I mean, I’m a killer, you know? I’m dangerous and cunning,” you paused, allowing Shane to scoff and roll his eyes, before continuing, “and most of all, I’m unpredictable.”

“What are you getting at?” Ryan narrowed his eyes, half suspicion, half impatience. You could tell you had his attention.

“I’m just saying, I’m a bit of a wild card. And letting me roam around unrestrained? That’s a pretty risky move, Bergara.” You watched as Shane crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance written across his features. Get to the point.

“Please, either of us could tackle you to the ground at a moments notice.”

You pretended to inspect your nails, reveling in the way Ryan restlessly tapped his foot against the earth. You let them wait. “Yeah, you could,” you drawled, pausing yet again just to piss them off. “But they don’t know that.”

You watched as Shane and Ryan exchanged a look. You sighed.

“Ryan, I’m giving you a chance to look cool. Enhance your reputation? Indulge your ego? Are you getting me?” You waved your hands impatiently.

“Oh. So, you’re saying I should-”

“Cuff me! Yes!” You interrupted. “Make a big show of telling me to stay in line, maybe even push me around a little!” 

Ryan and Shane shared yet another look. “Why would you want us to do that?” Shane asked, after a moment.

“Because it’ll be fun!” 

In truth, you were just sick of Ryan being testy. The way you figured, looking tough in front of his colleagues couldn’t hurt his mood, and letting him cuff you and be bossy wouldn’t hurt you either. If you wanted to get away, you would, handcuffs or not.

However, that doesn’t matter, because Ryan quickly deems your answer to be honest. He gestures for Shane to give him his handcuffs, which he does without argument. During this exchange, you take a moment to look at how ruffled their clothes are. Amazing how quick they were to run off to a cheap motel with a criminal; they hadn’t even thought to bring spare clothes.

You turned your back to Ryan and compliantly positioned your hands, hearing the quiet ‘click’ of the cuffs and taking gleeful notice in how loose they were. How sweet of him.

And so, into the clearing you went. You did your best to look dispirited as the boys marched you under the caution tape surrounding the scene. Did they really need to use so much tape? You wondered, eyeing the nearly thirty foot wreath of yellow and black. You doubted many people hiked in this part of the woods. Then again, somebody must have, considering the body was fresh when it was discovered.

There were three police officers standing around the edges of the tape circle. Two of them seemed to be doing their best to avoid making eye contact with you, while the other couldn’t seem to look away. You threw your most intimidating glare his way, and did your best not to look smug when he immediately turned his focus to his shoes. 

Ryan gave you a small push, and you took the hint, stumbling slightly on purpose and shuffling forward a bit faster.

“Keep moving!” he snarled. But there was an underlying eagerness in his tone. He was living for the rapt attention he was getting. 

The officers refocused on you, eyes wide and attentive in reaction to Ryan’s boldness. You mellowed your voice as much as you could without it being obvious that you were faking, and answered him with a shaky, ‘yes sir’.

The police officers were flabbergasted, which you took to mean that you had been pretty convincing. After another few seconds of you shuffling closer to the crime scene, one of them spoke.

“Well, Officer Bergara-”

“Detective.”

The woman who’d spoken looked taken aback. Ryan held his ground.

“Sorry, Detective Bergara. We’re going to head out and leave you to it.” 

“Alright.”

She and the other two officers didn’t move, at first. They stood where they were and watched Ryan guide you forward, undeniably curious. You kept your head bowed and eyes forward. You stopped moving when you saw the remnants of blood.

“What are you waiting for? Isn’t it your lunch break, rookies?” Ryan tossed over his shoulder.

None of the other officers responded, but they didn’t really need to. Their feelings were written clearly across their faces, meekness and embarrassment being the most prominent. They ducked under the tape and made their exit, the woman who’d previously spoken leading the way, her steps quick and long in her rush to be away from the site.

“Damn, Detective B, that was pretty rude.”

“I can put you back in jail, you know.”

“Yeah, but you won’t.” You winked at him. You heard him scoff in response and grinned, flashing a look to Shane just to make sure he noticed Ryan’s change in demeanor, too.

Indeed, he did, because he was grinning right back at you, giving a sly thumbs up.

“Alright, hold still.” Ryan commanded, moving behind you. You froze, momentarily thrown off balance. What’s he doing?

Then, you heard a quiet ‘click’ and felt the weight of your handcuffs fall from your wrists, and, presumably, into Ryan’s palms.

A small thrill ran through you, and it took all you had to conceal your delight. Ryan could have simply kept you cuffed, there was no reason not to. In truth, it would’ve been wiser to do just that. But he had just loosed you as if it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The best part, truly, was that neither of them even realized how big of a deal this was. Shane was re-attaching his handcuffs to their place on his belt, and Ryan was preparedly unfolding an evidence baggy and pulling on his gloves. Neither of them was even bothering to give you a second glance. Both of them had their guard down.

Around a notorious killer.

Which was, now that you think about it, pretty stupid. As fun as it was to think of yourself as a cunning and smooth, sweet-talking criminal, you knew better than to think you were slick enough to gain this much of their trust this quickly. Any experienced detective, or officer, for that matter, should know better than to give the enemy the benefit of the doubt, especially when the ‘enemy’ has been known to kill people over Pop-Tarts.

You almost felt bad, honestly. If they continued to trust criminals this way, eventually they were going to get stabbed in the back.

You shook your head. You had a job to do right now, better to ponder Shane and Ryan’s stupidity later.

“So, fellas, just what are we going to do here? The body isn’t here anymore. All we really have to work with is some bloodsoaked leaves.” You gestured to your left, to some leaves, which were, as stated, rather bloody.

“The scene can hold just as many clues as the body itself. The local police are incompetant-”

“Hey!” Shane interrupted.

“-present company excluded.” Ryan continued, “So, it’s likely there’s something here they missed.”

“I don’t know, Ryan, It’s looking pretty barren.” Shane commented.

“I agree with the big guy. He can see everything from up there, and it doesn’t seem like there’s all that much catching his eye.”

You could see Ryan beginning to grow tense again, so you added, quickly, “But, maybe we can get some sort of clue from the location itself.”

That got his attention. Only, judging by how quick he was to open his mouth again, probably not for long.

“If you’re implying we should look for a pattern in where the bodies are being dropped off, forget it.” He deflated. “There’s only two victims, and there’s nothing in common location wise. Just random body dumps.”

“No matter what, there’s always a pattern of some sort.”

“What about with you? You never had an identifiable pattern.” Shane pointed out.

“Actually, I did. The one thing my victims all had in common was that they all pissed me off.” 

Ryan and Shane both rolled their eyes. 

“Can you be serious for a minute? People are dying!” Ryan ran a gloved hand through his hair exasperatedly. One look at Shane told you that he was beginning to side with the other man, too.

“I am being serious. Work with me here, alright? Uh, ok, what was the last guy’s name? Eric-something, right?” you snapped your fingers in an attempt to jog your memory.

“Eric Daly.”

“Good, ok. Where did Eric live?”

“Why does it matter? The victims aren’t related, we already checked. As far as we know, they’ve never met.” Shane said.

“That isn’t what I asked. I asked where he lived.”

Ryan reached for his phone, unlocking it and beginning to scroll.

“Don’t read me the address, take me there. We need a visual. While you’re at it, has this body been identified?” 

Ryan nodded, beginning to scroll faster. “Yeah, her name was Ruth Bullock. Her wallet was still in her pocket, but there was no cash, just her ID and a credit card.”

Shane stepped closer and cleared his throat to get your attention.

“First of all, take it easy.” He gave you a pointed look. You chose not to let it discourage you; you were on a roll right now. “Second, you don’t find it odd that the killer left her credit card?”

“Not at all. Credit cards can be tracked.” You said.

“Alright, I’ve got both of the addresses. You wanna get going now?” Ryan asked, to which you promptly nodded.

“Whoa, whoa. Why? Did we just hike out here for nothing?” Shane positioned his hands on his hips like a mother scolding a toddler.

“I guess so, yeah. There’s nothing useful to the case here, and if there was, the other officers probably picked it up. Unless you feel like there’s something else we need to do here?” 

You mimicked his action, and stepped towards him, chest puffed and an eyebrow raised dramatically in mock-challenge. Shane yielded, huffing dramatically and shaking his head.

“No, I guess not.” He looked to Ryan. 

“How far is the first victim’s place?”

“Probably about a half hour. It shouldn’t be too hard to find, though. I’m pretty sure it’s just down the road from my apartment.”

“Eh, still. Just GPS it to be safe.” Shane commented.

You nodded your approval, and surveyed the scene one more time. Nothing caught your eye, and you almost felt disappointed. Where was the fun, piece-it-all-together mystery? One of the best parts of mystery movies and novels is the big reveal, after all. Where the protagonist figures it all out right after it seems all is lost. But you can’t piece it all together if there aren’t any clues.

Stop pretending this is a movie. This is real life, there isn’t always a big reveal. You never had one, after all, you scolded yourself.

“You coming?”

You twisted around, and tried to cover up how startled you were. You need to focus.

Shane was a good few hundred yards away, and Ryan wasn’t far behind. Ryan looked from Shane, to you, and back, and you took the hint, leaping into a sprint to catch up with them. You slowed upon reaching Ryan’s side, taking a few seconds to catch your breath.

When you turned to address Ryan, he was already looking at you, the corner of his mouth quirked down in what you assumed was worry. After a moment, he spoke.

“Are you… alright?” he spared a glance back at the clearing, as if he would see whatever it was you’d been staring off at.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” You took a deep breath, and exhaled it, allowing your shoulders to relax. “See? I’m chill. As the kids would say, I’m-”

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Gucci.”

“Goddamn it.”

But you didn’t miss his muted chuckle, or the humored look in his eye. So, you consider your awful use of slang worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Purple carpet and yellow walls? Maybe this guy deserved to get murdered.” 

You raised one of your hands expectantly, and weren’t surprised in the slightest when Shane high fived you. The man had too much taste not to.

Getting in had been a bit of a challenge. Ryan wasn’t in any mood to go to the police station and ask for the keys, but, it seemed, he also wasn’t in the mood to try your idea to get in. You didn’t really know why. The guy was dead, what difference would a smashed window on his house make?

In the end it didn’t matter, because Ryan, being his detective self, had a lockpick kit in his car. He made semi-quick work of getting everyone inside, although looking at the decor, you almost wished he had left his kit at the hotel.

“Oh my god, Ryan! You have to come see this!” Shane cackled. You were near enough to see that it was a decorative throw pillow. On it was a rather cartoony rendition of a ghost, and, while you thought it was cute and fitting to the almost-autumn season, you didn’t quite understand the significance.

Ryan brushed past you, clearly curious as to Shane’s find, and immediately deflated.

“Oh, fuck you!” he laughed.

“Wait, I don’t get the joke?” Shane and Ryan turned to you, quickly catching onto your puzzlement.

“Little Ry guy here believes in ghosties.” Shane explained, patting Ryan’s shoulder mockingly.

“Only because they’re real! Honestly, the fact that you don’t believe in them is just-” Ryan began heatedly, before you cut him off.

“Whoa there, fellas. Ghost stories later, murder stories now. Look around for anything that might signify he was threatened, or something. Evidence that someone had a grudge against this guy.”

“And if we don’t find anything, what? We wasted a day and broke into a house for no reason?” Shane asked. “Not that I’m against that, I love some good, old fashioned breaking and entering. But I’m just saying, the longer we take to solve this, the more victims there’ll be.”

“Well, if we don’t find anything here, we go to the next victim’s house. And believe me, I’m aware of the stakes.”

“But do you care?” Shane asked, his tone goading.

You opened your mouth, ready to lay it on him, when Ryan quite literally stepped between you.

“Shane, enough. We were joking around just a few seconds ago. Things are tense, I get it, but let’s save the fighting for when we’re not breaking the law.” 

Shane visibly relaxed, sighing quietly and looking away. You were surprised at how quick he was to obey, he’d, seemingly, been ready to throw down just a minute ago. Still, you weren’t complaining, this was much better. He absentmindedly picked at the ghost pillow, and Ryan stepped aside. 

“Come on, keep looking around. If you find anything, let me know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You found nothing. Nothing of importance, at least. The second victim’s apartment was equally as barren of evidence, and it seemed, as far as you could tell, that neither of them had ever met each other, which shut down that potential connection before it could even be proposed. Until someone close to the victims came forward with any possible clues, there really wasn’t all that much that could be done.

Discouraged, you and the boys headed back to the hotel, stopping for Burger King on the way and eating in silence in the car. 

By the time you made it back to the hotel, the sun had gone down and you were exhausted.

You collapsed onto the shitty mattress, knowing you’d wake up with an aching back and not managing to care. You were out almost instantly, your eyes falling shut and your mind shutting down. The last thing you saw was the burning red numbers of the alarm clock and the bedside table, imprinting 10:12 P.M. on the inside of your eyelids. You dream of nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake to the same sight you fell asleep to; the glow of red numbers. 2:29 A.M. It seems much harsher now than it had earlier; more of an angry glare than the gentle illumination it had been. You’re still tired, and after a moment, you press your head back into the cheap and flat expanse of your pillow. Shane is fast asleep and snoring on the equally small and shitty bed on the other side of the night stand, and you’re more than content to let the sound lull you back to sleep.

Only, you can’t.

Something is wrong, and to be quite frank, it’s annoying as hell.

Sleeping under these conditions is already difficult, but once you fall asleep, you should be able to stay that way until morning. Whatever it is that’s keeping you up is a pain in the ass. 

You take a moment to work up the energy to open your eyes, caught in the purgatory between sleep and consciousness. When you finally pry your eyes open and scan the room, it’s apparent what was wrong, and perhaps what had woken you up in the first place. Ryan was gone.

His cot of blankets was scattered all over the floor, and really, what a shitty thing to just leave laying there. Shane or you could trip on your way to the bathroom if you weren’t looking where you were going. How inconsiderate.

Still, in a way, it makes things seem even more wrong. He must have left in a hurry, and saying you weren’t curious as to why would be a blatant lie.

You scooch your way to the edge of the bed, and creep out of the room,stopping only to grab a room key. You pass the front desk, where the attendant hardly spares you a glance, focused intently on a rerun of some baseball game playing on an outdated and low quality TV on the wall.

As you step out into the parking lot, you begin to wish you’d bothered to put your shoes on. The asphalt is cool to match the changing of seasons, and you don’t doubt that it’s littered with glass by the way it sparkles in the weak light of the half moon. Still, you step forward, turning every which way in hopes that you’ll spot Ryan. 

And you do.

You just barely see him, hunched over and sitting on the concrete of the sidewalk. He’s on the side of the parking lot with the fewest cars, and from the looks of him, he’s far from alright.

You take a hesitant step towards him, but stop almost instantly when a car speeds down the road, headlights flashing in the corner of your eye. You turn slowly to look. No other cars follow, and the air stills again.

I could go. I don’t have to stay here.

You’re almost floored by the fact that this is the first time the thought has occured to you. It’s true; despite your agreement, you don’t have to stay here. The living arrangements were less than exemplary, and the only reason you had agreed to help was due to the promise of freedom. But you could just go now, there was nothing stopping you. And who’s to say that they would keep their end of the bargain anyway?

You turn to face Ryan again, and watch as a visible shudder runs through him. Another car races past behind you, and you make up your mind.

You take a few more careful steps in Ryan’s direction, mindful of the obvious broken bottles, and manage to not step on any glass. Which, in truth, is quite the accomplishment. 

You get close enough to see that he’s shaking, and you feel your heart drop at the sight. Jeez, what happened? 

“Ryan.” Your voice is too loud, practically echoing through the parking lot. Ryan jolts, and you cringe. “Sorry.”

By now, he’s turned to face you, and your heart sinks even lower at dark circles beneath his eyes, and at just how disheveled he looked. This wasn’t the effect of having just climbed out of bed; this was distress in its purest form.

A few steps closer, and you find yourself sitting down gingerly beside him. He’s still looking at you in silence.

“Uh, how long have you been out here?” the additional question of ‘and why?’ goes unsaid, but you can tell he catches it.

“Don’t worry about it.” His voice is hoarse, and you’re hit with an icy shock as you realize that he’s been crying.

“Too late. I’m worried.” You try to chuckle, but your words had come out much more wobbly than you intended, not humorous enough and far too genuine for your liking.

He gives you a weak smile, and you do your best to return it. 

“I feel kinda stupid right now, to be honest.” He admits.

You tilt your head, silently urging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, his breath is subtly visible. It’s colder out than you thought.

“It was just a nightmare. I don’t know why it rattled me so much, but-” he clenches his jaw and clips his sentence abruptly.

His voice is strained and muted, raw with emotion, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You begin to open your mouth to ask him for more details, but he shakes his head, and you obey.

Things are quiet for a bit, after that; a merciful silence for both of you. Somewhere nearby, a cricket chirps, and if things weren’t so somber, you’d laugh at the timing.

“How do you do it?”

You flinch at how harsh the sudden noise is in contrast to the stillness of the night air, but you’re over it quickly, attention moving to how intently he’s looking at you. You play dumb.

“Do what?”

“You know.” His voice is pitiful, a defeated croak. “Kill people.” He adds, but you know he’s aware you understood perfectly well the first time.

“Usually with a knife?” Now isn’t the time for jokes, and you know it, you know it, you know it. But by now it’s second nature, and you aren’t in the mood to try and fight it.

“Why?”

That’s a damn good question. Why do you do it?

Maybe just because you can. Maybe simply because it’s just so easy to do it. So easy to slip away from the scene, away from the bright and flashy blue and red lights. Maybe you like the chase of it, the feeling of being pursued by the very best, and still always being one step ahead.

Maybe you like the attention; seeing your face on national TV, knowing you have to be oh-so-careful or else you could be recognized, but being careless anyways just so you can continue to outrun everyone else. Continue to be the best at the worst possible thing.

Maybe it’s just your nature. Maybe you were born ruined. Maybe you’re just a sick fuck and always have been. It could really be as simple as that. 

You say none of this.

Ryan’s looking at you, but you’re staring down at the faded white paint lines of the parking lot, just to have something to focus on.

When you do respond, it’s not an answer to his question.

“The nightmare isn’t the only thing bothering you, is it?”

He looks a bit stunned, so you give him a minute, before repeating yourself.

“No. I guess not.” It’s his turn to pretend the parking lot has something interesting to offer, and you smile bitterly, wondering if his train of thought is anywhere as serious as yours had been a moment ago.

In the face of silence, you decide to keep talking, nerves rising and forcing words out of you.

“You’ve been weird all day today. You’re irritable and fidgety and snappy. What is it about this case that has you so bothered? I mean, you do this for a living, you can’t always be like this.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You weren’t expecting him to give the admission so freely, but you don’t miss the tension that leaves him after saying it, so rather than teasing him, you stay quiet and let him speak.

“Something is different about this case. It’s sticking with me, and,” he huffs out a breath humorlessly, “It’s fucking awful.”

He goes on, “I can’t get it out of my head. It isn’t just a passion for solving the case. I have to. I have to get this over with, or I’m going to lose my mind. My skin has just been fucking crawling since that first victim.”

You’re dumbfounded. You honestly hadn’t expected him to spill it all like that. Which isn’t to say you were disappointed that he had, but- damn.

“Then I guess we’d better get on it, huh?” the words came out on their own, and you mentally cursed yourself for not saying something better. Something more comforting, or really anything besides a shittily timed joke.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

In the midst of the awkwardness, you stand, brushing pebbles and bits of gravel from your legs, and offering Ryan a hand to help him up. He takes it wordlessly.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna go in now. Go back to sleep if I can manage, with ol’ officer Shane’s snoring.” You look to the sickly orange light leaking through the doors to the lobby, and move to begin the walk back to the room.

Ryan stops you, though, gripping your forearm and stilling you with ease.

It’s no secret that the two of you have spent most of today purposefully and obviously avoiding eye contact with one another. But Ryan takes that effort and shoves it now, eyes fixed on your own and brimming with intensity. At this angle, the moonlight hits his face nicely, making his eyes look less like their deep brown and more of a light tan, almost unnatural. But nice, nonetheless. 

His hair is messy and flopping down into his face a bit, and if you weren’t so on edge over his sudden serious attitude, you would make fun of him for it.

As it was, you remained where you were, his arm still holding you in place, and his stare still locked on you. 

You could tell he wanted to communicate something to you, something important, and you remained unspeaking, waiting. 

Finally, he slid his hand off your arm, exhaling and slumping over a bit. He looked almost pained, and for a second you were gripped by the urge to change your mind; to leave.

Spoiler: you don’t.

“Are… are you okay?” 

He nods, and when he lifts his head again, he looks just as tired as before, but in much better spirits. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Well, uh. I’m gonna go in now, if you’ll let me.” He laughs, finally, and you feel a genuine smile capture your lips. Things are gonna be okay.

“I’ll be in in a while. I just need to think for a bit.” 

You nod understandingly, and begin the trek back to the room, content to go back to bed and maybe talk more about everything in the morning.

As you reached for the door handle, expecting and anticipating the wave of warm air the (rickety, but efficient) furnace would provide, you heard a yell of your name.

Facing Ryan once more, you cocked your head, both amused and weary.

For a minute, it seemed like there was meaning in his tone. A type of plead in his eyes. You waited.

“Uh, earlier.” He’s lowered his voice from his initial yell. Shitty hotels aren’t the type of environment where loud noises past midnight are encouraged.

“Yeah?”

He hesitated.

“You, uh. You called Shane an officer.”

“Yes, I did. He kinda is one.”

“No, not really. He- while he’s working with me, he’s considered a detective, too. Just so you know. So he’s Detective Madej, not Officer Madej.”

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, you enter the building. 

You know better than to think that was what he was planning to say. He chickened out of whatever it was, that much was obvious. But now you were curious. Not curious enough to let it keep you up any longer, but definitely curious.

But hey, now you know that you had been calling Shane by the wrong title. Not that you particularly care, of course, but still; you learn something new everyday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Ryan comes inside nearly an hour later, he finds that you’ve not only used one of the hotel issued towels to hold the door open (which is both courtious and idiotic, he thinks, because while he did forget to grab a key in his rush for fresh air and space, anyone could have come into the room), but you’ve also rearranged his nest of blankets on the floor; whether for his benefit or yours, he isn’t sure, but he’s grateful nonetheless.

Shane is snoring peacefully, with his face buried in his pillow and his feet dangling off the bed. Ryan smiles fondly at the near-giant, and moves towards the other bed, stepping lightly in hopes to avoid creaky spots on the worn floor.

You’re tangled in the generic hotel-issued blankets, fingers clenched tightly around the fringe, and your face relaxed. In your sleep, you give a quiet hum, and roll over, keeping the blankets held tightly against you.

This is creepy; watching your friends sleep is creepy, Ryan thinks, turning away. He doesn’t linger on just when you went from being a detainee to a friend in his mind. He doesn’t think about it. It’s not important, it’s not it’s not it’s not.

With a sigh, he turns back to his cot and settles in. He idly wishes to himself that Shane had left the TV on for ambient noise, but as it was, he fell asleep quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s afraid. She’s terrified, and it shows, because this is the type of terror that you can’t hide. The kind of overtaking fear that makes the concept of even attempting to seem collected pointless.

She screams. Quite a lot actually, but it’s nothing duct tape won’t fix, and it won’t last much longer.

Ruth Bullock was going to die. Whether she had seconds or minutes or hours left, she had no clue. But she knew it. She knew it the second the steps on the gravel behind her had sped up, and she was right.

At 5:44 A.M, she is killed. A fatal puncture to her right lung.

At 6:17 A.M, her body is left at a randomly chosen spot in a nearby forest.

At 7:48 A.M, a young woman hiking with her dog on her day off stumbles upon Ruth’s body.

By 8:32, the scene is taped off and swarming with police. An email has been sent to the case detectives.

Detective Ryan Bergara deals with bodies, with murder, with chasing killers in his day to day life. He is highly regarded in his profession.

But something is different this time.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Som

  Ryan sighed, running his hands over his tired face, through his dark locks of hair. He glanced at the clock as he yawned, eyes widening slightly as he saw how late it was. He was currently working on the most recent most recent episode of Unsolved they had filmed, and he’d been editing for about 3 hours now. He wanted everything to be perfect. Picking up his headphones again he slipped them on, leaving on side off in case (Y/N) needed him for something, even though he doubted they would. The wind outside blew against the windows, a soft whistle echoing throughout the house, rain fell softly outside, pattering against them as the storm outside went on. It usually didn’t rain in Cali, so the calming sound of the storm was welcomed on this calm late night.

  Yawning, (Y/N) stretched, eyes fluttering open as they sat up. They glanced at the clock, frowning as they realized that Ryan wasn’t in bed yet. Stretching once again they got up, stepping down off their bed, humming contently as their feet hit the soft carpet. They stepped out into the hallway, shivering slightly at the transition from carpet to hardwood flooring. Their hand found the wall, guiding themselves as they walked through the halls. Noticing a soft light coming from the office they sighed, yawning softly as they padded their way into the small room.

  Ryan didn’t notice as (Y/N) walked into the room, too absorbed in his work to take in all of his surroundings. Biting their lip, (Y/N) smiled, taking in the appearance of their boyfriend before they went to coax him into bed. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and grey sweatpants, his strong tan arms looked even better in the soft glow of his desk lamp. Ryan jumped, his headphones falling around his neck as he turned towards his partner. “Oh..hey babe.” He looked back at the clock, confusion falling over his face. “What are you doing up? Thought you went to bed.” He mumbled sleepily, wrapping his arms around their waist, resting his head on their lower stomach as they were standing and he was sat in his office chair.

  “I could as you the same question, love.” They replied softly, their voice quiet against the sounds of the night. Running their fingers through his soft, curly dark hair. They loved when he didn’t do anything with his hair, it looked so soft and cute all curled. “You should’ve come to bed hours ago..it’s late.” Ryan nodded, sighing as he pulled away. He rested his large, strong hands on their hips, looking up at them. “I know..I’m sorry babes, I’m just trying to get this done.” A clap of thunder sounded outside, making the pair jump, their hold on each other tightening softly. Ryan chuckled softly, his voice deep, slightly raspy from not talking for so long. It was his ‘sleepy voice’ as (Y/N) called it. “Come on love..come to bed.”

  (Y/N) placed their hand over his, intertwining their fingers together softly. Ryan nodded, turning around in his chair so he could save his work. He closed the programs and shut off his computer, stretching with a groan, standing up from his chair. “Ohh everything hurts.” (Y/N) giggled softly, wrapping their arms around him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “That’s what happens when you sit in that chair for hours on end love.” Ryan rolled his eyes and smirked, kissing them deeply. He hooked his arm under their legs, holding onto them as he picked them up bridal style. “Yeah yeah, I get it. I’ll try to stop staying up so late working babe.”

  (Y/N) smiled, yawning as Ryan began carrying them to their bedroom. “Good.” Setting them down on their bed, he kissed the top of their head, slipping his sweatpants off and throwing them in the laundry basket in the corner. He flopped down on the bed, sighing in content feeling the soft mattress under his sore back. Smirking, Ryan looked down, feeling a nudge on his arm. “Alright, come here you.” He whispered, wrapping a strong, muscled arm around their shoulders, pulling them close against his chest running his fingers through their hair. They laid there in silence, listening to the sound of the rain, the odd couple of cars driving past every-so-often.