#sharayan

Sara feels her cheeks redden.

But surely nothing beats the red that's flooding Ryan's cheeks, making him match the too-large plaid shirt currently hanging, loose, around his naked torso. Sara wants to kiss him. But her hands are currently coated in sun screen and Shane is sleeping on her lap, so her usual tactic of lunging, grabbing, then bringing his lips to hers is not going to work in this situation.

Besides, Ryan is adorable when he blushes. She decides she wants to see more.

"Oh?" Sara says, pitching her voice to put emphasis on being intrigued. Ryan flushes a little darker, and she withholds her need to squeal from happiness. "Is that what got you here?"

Ryan laughs, nervously. "I mean... You-- You're pretty great, Sara." he stutters, suddenly very interested in the umbrella shielding them from the summer sun. "You're funny. And you're kind. And I don't kn-know but you have this way of... making my day so much better?"

He casts his gaze to the ground, and then looks up at her, from under his lashes.

And Sara melts.

"Ryan," she says, rolling her eyes. Because it's absurd how far gone she is over this man and it's absurd how far gone he is over her and-- god. She's happy. "If you don't kiss me right now I swear I'm going to chuck your clothes into the ocean."

Ryan blinks, pleasantly taken aback, before getting on his hands and knees to carefully reach over Shane. "Why do I feel like you're going to do that anyway?"

She doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she grabs his cheeks, sun screen be damned, and pulls him in for a long overdue kiss.

(Bonus:

"I'm feeling left out."

Sara and Ryan startle, breaking apart to look down at Shane. He still has his eyes closed behind his comically large glasses, but there's a smile playing across his face, pleased and content and happy.

She's pretty chill, actually, a go with the flow, laid-back kinda gal, willing to let most things slide. And she's pretty secure in herself, too, despite the awkwardness she likes to wear like a second skin. Snippy remarks and coffee-cup crushing jealousy is Shane's thing-- she leaves that to him.

Or at least she thought she did.

"Ryan, would you fuck a ghost?"

The question is... absurd. Normally, she would roll her eyes at it. But now, however, there's a sudden flare of irritation under her skin that she can barely contain. She doesn't see red, per se, but she sure does see green.

Before she can stop herself, she says, "He's in a relationship!"

And, visibly, Shane's overall movement pauses. He's looking at her now, both eyebrows raised in surprise and a little bit of amusement. Ryan, thank god, doesn't seem to be the wiser, too tipsy on apple jack to pick up on that little tid bit of false information Sara had so recklessly let loose. Shane is grinning at her, however, ever so sharp, even when drunk, and Sara throws him a subtle glare.

Don't. Say it.

After the shoot, Ryan sways on his feet, having stood up too fast in a rush to get sober. Sara catches him before he stumbles into his chair and falls flat on his face, and when he turns to thank her, his smile is inches away from her nose.

"Thanks, Sara," he says, all sunshine in two whispered words. "Wow, you're pretty strong!"

When he sways out of her arms, she finds herself mourning and chasing after his form with her eyes.

"Oh, what do we have here?" Shane gasps, in mock-horror, sauntering up to her to pull her flush against his chest, her head tucked, snuggly, under his chin. She looks up to glare at him, miffed but not so much, and he peers down at her, knowing and absolutely smug.

"You, too, huh?" he says.

Sara sighs, leaning against his chest once more. "We got it bad."

"Mm," Shane hums. A pause, then. "I bet I could get him to kiss me first."