#trevray

Something was off in Ryan’s tone, in the too straight line of his back. Trevor narrowed his eyes, stepping to the side. Ryan’s hand dropped and curled into a fist, his shoulders tense. There was something else going on.

“Why? Got something to hide?”

Trevor said it lightly, like a joke, but Ryan flinched back. Trevor watched him, his stomach churning. So there was something Ryan was keeping from him. Ray’s words whirled through his head, and Trevor couldn’t shake the impending sense of doom. He trusted Ryan. He did, but-

He promised to wait.

Ryan’s face remained blank for two heartbeats, three, before he cracked, the corners of his mouth turning down. His arms rose as if he was about to cross them defensively before Ryan paused. With a sharp exhale he forced them to hang loose by his sides, fingers curling into fists, and met Trevor’s eyes.

“I… Neither Ray nor I are blameless for our relationship falling apart. I’ve done some things I’d rather not you know.”

It was Trevor’s turn to reach out, grabbing Ryan’s hands and carefully unfurling his fingers from their tight clench.

“I… I can’t promise not to judge,” he admitted to Ryan’s hands, smoothing his thumb over the nail indents on his palm. “Ray’s told me just enough that it’s too late for that. But… But I don’t want to doubt you. Not without hearing your side of how things went.”

“You will,” Ryan said, voice tight and helpless. “If you hear.”

“Well, then.” Trevor looked up and stared into Ryan’s blue, blue eyes, seeing the conflict there. “Guess we’ll have some more things to talk about, after.”

Ryan cracked a smile, the implicit promise seeming to reassure him judging by the way the tension bled out of his shoulders.

“Alright.” Ryan leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m not sure I’m ready, either,” he confessed in the tiny space between them.

“Are we ever?” Trevor smiled and pecked his lips in a quicksilver kiss. “Come on, let’s go.”

Ray was waiting for them on the couch where Trevor left him, blankets pulled tight around his shoulders and knees tucked into his chest. He looked small, smaller than usual even. Of course, Trevor had taken note before that Ray was shorter than him and Ryan, but like this he looked… too small. Vulnerable.

Trevor dropped down beside him, jostling Ray accidentally on purpose. Then he arched an eyebrow at Ryan and patted the free space on his other side. Ryan sighed but obliged, sitting down with one leg folded under him and back to the armrest, putting some space between them, or perhaps making sure to face them head on. Trevor cocked his head in question, but Ryan shook his surreptitiously, and Trevor let it drop.

“Alright!” Trevor clapped his hands, lips pulling up into a fake grin. “Who wants to go first?”

Ray and Ryan exchanged a look, both keeping their faces carefully blank. Trevor looked between them, arching his brows expectantly. Ryan grit his teeth and turned his face away.

“I’m not-” He shook his head. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Typically, you start in the beginning,” Trevor teased, keeping his voice light and free of judgement. He glanced at Ray and tilted his head. “Or in this case… where it fell apart?”

“Three years ago,” Ray answered immediately. “Things- things were bad.” He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared at his lap as he spoke. “There was a gang war going on. I was stressed, and things between Ryan and I-” He glanced up at Ryan at that and swallowed hard. “-weren’t going too well. I- I coped. With drugs.”

Ryan scoffed. “You overdosed. More than once,” he pointed out, tone sharp and angry and tinged with hurt. “You couldn’t hold up conversations for more than a minute, and sometimes you didn’t even remember what we talked about.”

Ray raised his head and met Ryan’s gaze squarely. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Ryan sat, stiff and frozen, staring back at Ray. Then he jerked his head in an approximation of a nod. Ray dropped his gaze again, pressing his forehead against his thighs.

“I thought… I guess I didn’t think. It worked, until it didn’t.” His voice was muffled from where he was speaking into his lap. He lifted his head back up, but didn’t raise his gaze as he cleared his throat. “Until Ryan confronted me and gave me an ultimatum.”

“The drugs or me,” Ryan filled in for Trevor’s benefit. Ray grimaced.

“I didn’t want to lose either. I… didn’t really know how to live without. Ryan, or the drugs.” Ray’s mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. “I caved. Once the gang war was over, we found me a rehab center just North of San Andreas.”

Trevor glanced between Ryan and Ray, taking in their hurt expressions. He had an inkling where this was going, but… It was helping, he hoped, to talk it out.

“It didn’t stick.” A self-deprecating note entered Ray’s smile. “I held out for two weeks before signing myself out. Ended up wandering, taking jobs on the East Coast. I came home after two months for a weekend. Ryan… Ryan was so happy about my progress. I couldn’t tell him.”

“No.” Ryan crossed his arms and glared. “Instead you lied to me.”

“I thought you were better off, not knowing,” Ray tried to explain, his expression earnest. “Not knowing what a failure it was. And… it didn’t seem to make a difference. Like you couldn’t tell I was still using. I tried to keep to things that weren’t obvious during my visits - only smoked up on the roof, showered afterwards, stuff like that. I thought it was a good enough compromise.”

“You assumed,” Trevor interjected, keeping his voice gentle. Ray glanced up, a question in his eyes. Instead of answering, Trevor turned to Ryan, reaching out to entangle their hands, tugging him out of his defensive position. “You’ve said before, you always assumed what Ray felt, what Ray wanted. You never really talked about it.”

“Never thought we needed to,” Ryan admitted in a small voice. He met Ray’s surprised stare. “Neither of us is good at… talking. About feelings.” Trevor squeezed his hand, and Ryan squeezed back. “I learned, eventually. Trevor had to keep reminding me he wasn’t, quote, a goddamn mind-reader.”

Ray’s lips twitched up, and his surprise turned thoughtful.

“I guess we never did really talk about… about what we wanted from thi- from what we had.”

Silence hung heavy over them as no one quite dared to point out Ray’s slip. Ryan was holding tight to Trevor’s hand, but his expression seemed less strained as he mustered Ray in quiet contemplation. Trevor turned to look at the smaller man, shoulders slumped and chin resting on top of his knees as he stared unseeing at the coffee table. Thinking about what could have been, maybe.

Trevor cleared his throat once the silence became awkward. They couldn’t leave it on that note if they wanted to solve anything. So Trevor pushed on, careful and persistent.

“So, you came back after two months and pretended everything was alright. And then?”

“Kept pretending, I guess.” Ray shrugged, a rueful expression stealing over his face. He glanced up from the corners of his eyes, gaze flickering from Ryan to Trevor. “Managed to keep it from him for almost seven months. But… it was hard, staying away. I started coming home more often- just a weekend here and there, but… I guess that gave it away?”

“I grew suspicious,” Ryan agreed, nodding once, terse. “I tried calling the clinic, but they didn’t hand out information about patients unless you were on their list of trusted contacts.” He paused, trying to catch Ray’s eyes, who dropped his gaze to the floor. “Except… I was Ray’s contact. When he signed in.”

“I had it changed to Gavin,” Ray admitted, voice barely a whisper. “When I left.”

“So they wouldn’t tell me you weren’t part of the program anymore?” Ryan asked bitterly. Ray shook his head, nodded, then shook it again.

“I don’t know. I just thought…” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t really think straight, back then.” He turned his face to meet Ryan’s eyes carefully, lips quirking up as he admitted, “I was kind of a mess.”

Ryan snorted, but he slumped back against the couch, shoulder bumping into Trevor’s. “A bit,” he agreed in a dry tone.

“Right.” Trevor glanced between them, leaning his weight against Ryan to show his support. “And I guess you figured it out?”

Both of them grimaced at the same time. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

“I did. I searched through Ray’s things, to get proof.” He shot a quick glance over to Ray, who was staring at the door to the bedroom with an indecipherable expression. “Ray caught me just as I found the drugs he’d hidden in his duffle.”

“We fought. I was furious.” Trevor tilted his head and nailed Ray with a look, who glanced back at him and huffed, elaborating, “At being caught out. At Ryan for looking, for ignoring my privacy. But mostly… at myself for getting into that mess. I felt guilty and afraid, but anger was… easier.”

“I was angry, too,” Ryan jumped in, without needing a nudge from Trevor. His face showed none of the anger he spoke of, only a lingering regret. “I felt betrayed, and like a fool for believing your lies. I knew something was off, but I attributed it to recovery being hard. I did the research, I knew it would take time for things to get better, and we fought less, so I thought that was progress enough, and the rest would fall into place…”

“I thought you didn’t notice any difference, so it didn’t matter whether or not I took drugs,” Ray confessed, mouth quirking up in reluctant mirth. “I thought I was so clever, and you were clearly wrong for pushing your ultimatum. That we just needed some distance to work.”

“I wanted it to work,” Ryan confided, meeting Ray’s startled gaze. “I wanted it so much I ignored all the signs pointing out otherwise. Until I couldn’t.”

“I wanted it, too. It’s why I lied,” Ray explained, the raw honesty in his face forcing Trevor to avert his gaze. It seemed too private a moment to intrude on. “Sometimes we hurt the people we love the most.”

That sounded like a quote, Trevor thought. He glanced up, not liking the look on Ryan’s face.

“And sometimes people just don’t work out, no matter how much they love each other.” He could feel Ray’s eyes on him, but he held Ryan’s gaze, wanting this to get through to him. “Maybe it’s the wrong time, or the wrong place. Maybe you’re the wrong version of you at the time that makes it… not work. Doesn’t mean your love is any less real, but…”

“Sometimes,” Ryan continued as Trevor trailed off, and his eyes flickered from Trevor’s to over his shoulder, meeting Ray’s, “You have to cut someone you love out of your life, because you’re hurting them and they’re hurting you.”

This time it was Ray who broke the heavy tension. Trevor was grateful, unsure what to say after all that.

“I realized I had to want to change. Before, I tried to change for Ryan, and it didn’t work because my heart wasn’t really in it. I wasn’t really convinced I needed to change.” A rueful smile played around Ray’s lips. “It’s something I talked over with my therapist a lot. Change. Becoming the person I wanted me to be.”

“Your therapist?” Ryan sounded as taken aback as Trevor first felt when the topic came up. It made Trevor feel validated in his response.

“At the clinic,” Ray confirmed, shooting him a quick sideways glance as if to gauge his reaction.

“You went back?”

“Yeah.” Ray sighed, shifting around so he sat on one leg, the other still raised to rest his chin on. “After, uh. After I came back the last time.”

“When was that?” Trevor asked curiously.

“About… hmm, two months after Ryan found out, I think.” Ray shrugged. “I travelled around, took some jobs on the side. Thought I’d give him some time to cool down, let things get back to normal.”

Now it was Ryan who was avoiding looking at them. Something itched at the back of Trevor’s mind, some sort of bullshit meter. He could sense Ryan’s discomfort increase with the topic.

“Let me guess, things didn’t go back to normal?”

“Not really.” Ray was looking helplessly at Ryan, who remained silent. “I, ah. Came back. We fought, and then we had sex. A lot.”

“A lot of fighting or a lot of sex?” Trevor half-joked, already suspecting the answer. Ray grinned back at him half-heartedly.

“Both.” He shook his head. “By the end of the week we… we had a really big fight. We still made up, like always, but… it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. So once Ryan fell asleep I… snuck out.”

“I tried calling you,” Ryan said dully, and when Trevor looked back at him, a blank mask slipped over his face. “But you didn’t answer. You never did.”

“I couldn’t. That’s why I left you a letter,” Ray pointed out, but his voice was subdued. “I explained everything in there.”

Ryan shifted, his weight no longer pressed against Trevor’s side, and Trevor eyed him worriedly as the silence stretched. Finally, he reached out to poke him in the arm.

“Ryan?”

“I never read that letter.” At their uncomprehending stares, Ryan elaborated, the words solemn. “I woke up that morning to an empty bed, no sign of Ray anywhere. After… after everything- I couldn’t. It was a wake up call. I packed all of Ray’s things I could find into a box and had Gavin collect it. When I found your note and realized you’d left again…” Ryan hesitated, before meeting Ray’s eyes and announcing, “I burned it without reading.”

Ray’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t- I thought-” Ray closed his voice and pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice rough and raw. “That… that explains some things. I… I did wonder.”

Ryan swallowed. “Wondered what?”

“Wondered why after I went and did what you asked of me after all, why you would leave me at that point.” Ray opened his eyes and raised his chin. “Why you left me when I went back to rehab and kept my half of the promise. But you… you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” Ryan agreed, dropping his head. His shoulders shook. “I… Why didn’t Gavin say? He stayed in contact with you, right?”

“He did. And… I asked him not to,” Ray revealed, shoulders raising to his ears. “I… I was afraid. That I couldn’t do it. That I’d fail again, and… I didn’t want you to know, if I did. Or how much I struggled.” The look he levelled at Ryan was rather pointed. “Which I explained in the letter you never read.”

“Oh.” Ryan pressed his mouth into a thin line, frowning at his clasped hands in his lap. “I… I guess I’d given up on you, on us. So when Gavin refused to tell me…”

Trevor reached out, laying his hand on top of Ryan’s, but Ryan pulled back almost immediately. That stung, but Trevor knew this must be hard on Ryan, and if he needed some space, prefered it over comfort, then… he had to respect that.

“You made a mistake. It happens,” Trevor murmured. Ryan shook his head.

“That’s not- that’s not all,” he stuttered, dragging his hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in his hair tie. He ripped it out, wincing as he took several strands with him. “There’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Trevor stared at Ryan, heart sinking. He had a bad feeling about this. Ryan still wasn’t meeting his eyes, glancing somewhat helplessly at Ray instead.

“I…” Ryan tugged on the loose ends of his hair and licked his lips. “Why, uh, why don’t you tell him when you went back to rehab?”

“About two years ago,” Ray answered promptly, his burning gaze settling on Trevor’s neck, who kept staring at Ryan, stomach churning.

“When we started this-” Trevor gestured between their chest, indicating their early relationship. “-thing between us, you said you’d broken up with Ray almost a year ago.”

“I lied,” Ryan confessed, shifting to face Trevor. “Or… well, no, it was a lie. Mostly I lied to myself. Convinced myself that nothing after the ultimatum counted. That Ray chose the drugs over me, that I’d lost him that day. That everything that came after was a lie, didn’t count.”

Ray frowned at him. “We were still dating for at least the seven months after that, though.” His frown deepened. “Wait. Is this why everyone thinks we broke up three years ago?”

Ryan shrugged one shoulder, dropping his gaze to meet neither of their eyes. “I, uh, might have told it like that to everyone who asked. Trying to convince myself. As if I could make it true.”

Trevor swallowed, heart in his throat even as his stomach dropped. That… that wasn’t what he expected at all. He opened his mouth, but the words got stuck and he closed it without saying anything. Behind him, he felt Ray shift, and then a hand settled on his lower back, warm and supportive.

Finally, Ryan glanced up and grimaced.

“I didn’t want you to be just a rebound.”

“But I was,” Trevor mumbled, his lips feeling numb. So did his hands, and his chest, his legs- Ryan’s nose scrunched up, and he raised his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “Wasn’t I?”

“We never broke up, officially. But…” Ryan’s shoulders slumped, and he sought Ray’s gaze and held it. “After I found out, and you left… I tried calling you, and you didn’t answer, didn’t call back. I didn’t expect you to come back, then. And when you did… but then you left again-”

Trevor felt Ray stiffen behind him, his hand dropping away. He glanced over his shoulder to see his eyes narrowed, gaze piercing.

“You were fucking before you were dating,” Ray stated more than asked. “Weren’t you? How long ago?”

“Our two year anniversary was over a month ago,” Trevor replied, his voice distant to his own ears over the rushing of adrenaline. “Danced around each other a couple months before that.”

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Ryan defended himself, eyes imploring and resigned at the same time. “I thought we were over and done.”

The pieces of the puzzle fell together before him, and Trevor couldn’t say how he felt about this new revelation.

“Ray came back after we already slept together.”

“It wasn’t cheating.” Ryan tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Trevor leaned back, and Ray pressed up against him. “We weren’t… there wasn’t any commitment, not then. Just a tumble, or two, and it was fun and new, but then Ray showed up on my door, and I- I missed him, I couldn’t say no-”

Ryan cut himself off, hunching in on himself. Thoughts swirled through Trevor’s head, too fast and insubstantial to grasp. His stomach turned over, nausea rising, and he reached back, nails digging into the blanket, and possibly into Ray’s thigh below. Everything shifted, like someone laid a colour filter over the world, leaving it looking so familiar but off.

Ray hooked his chin over Trevor’s shoulder, a contemplative look on his face.

“And once you started dating, you didn’t tell him, afraid to ruin things,” he guessed, the first thing that made sense. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Ray knew Ryan quite well. “And then it was too late, never the right time to bring it up, and why bring it up if I wasn’t coming back? Who would tell?”

“No one,” Trevor rasped, and immediately two intent pairs of eyes pinned him in place. Trevor cleared his throat. “I- I can’t say that I like hearing it. Why didn’t you tell me?” A pause, and he jumped from this conclusion to another. “Is that why you never wanted to talk about what happened with Ray?”

“I was afraid it’d come up,” Ryan agreed. His arms wrapped around himself, staring down at his socked feet. “I was afraid if you knew… if you thought of yourself as just a rebound, or, or a replacement you wouldn’t… you wouldn’t want to stay.”

“Shouldn’t that be my choice?” Trevor snapped, his grip on Ray’s leg tightening. “You didn’t… you didn’t trust me. I don’t care about-” He stopped himself, took a deep breath. “Well, that’s a lie. I do kinda care, but I can get over that part. No. What hurts is that you didn’t tell me.”

“That’s not- That’s not why-” Ryan looked stricken. “I trust you. I do. With everything- my life, my heart.”

“That’s not what it feels like, right now,” Trevor whispered, and it was his turn to avert his eyes. He wished he hadn’t cleared the dishes away yet, itching for something to do, to take him out of the room for just a couple seconds. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What a mess.” Ray chuckled, sounding a mix of amused and pained. The vibrations pulsed along Trevor’s back. It felt reassuring, a bit, to be reminded he wasn’t the only one hurt in this situation. “I’m kinda glad. At least I’m not the only one who fucked up.”

A lull fell over their conversation, a muffled kind of stillness as no one knew how to respond. Trevor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get his churning emotions back under control. He had expected this to be difficult for Ryan and Ray, like lancing a wound. Unpleasant, but necessary to heal. He hadn’t expected to be this involved.

Trevor opened his eyes and met Ryan’s deep blue, saw the pain reflected there. Ryan opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Ryan sounded so miserable, Trevor couldn’t help but reach out to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He sighed, catching Ryan’s eyes to shoot him a tentative smile.

“I can’t promise you this won’t change things, but…” Trevor entangled their fingers. “I want you. Want us. We’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah?” Ryan smiled back, small and fragile. Trevor nodded, leaning forward and dislodging Ray. He pressed his lips to the corner of Ryan’s mouth, closing his eyes. He still didn’t know what to think… but he knew what he wanted.

“I hope so,” Ray chimed in, and they turned to look at him. He gave them a genuine grin. “You two are good for each other. I think I’ve stalked you enough to know that much.”

Trevor grinned back, amused by Ray trying to lighten the mood. That was something he could get used to, he thought, bantering with Ray. Ryan, however, froze.

“Stalked?” he echoed, frowning at Ray. “What stalking?”

“Ah…” Trevor sat back slowly, making sure to put his back to the couch so he could see both of them. He’d forgotten. The reminder put things into perspective, because hadn’t he kept that secret too to avoid hurting Ryan?

“Dude.” Ray stared at him, disbelief written over his face. “You didn’t tell him?”

“It, uh, didn’t seem important. To worry him.”

“Uh huh.” Ray gave him a dry look, clearly not buying it. Honestly, the sass.

“Didn’t tell me what?” Ryan asked, eyes narrowing at Trevor, who fidgeted with his sleeves.

“I’ve been stalking your boyfriend ever since our last talk blew up. Convinced myself if I could figure out why you chose him, I’d have a chance to win you back.” Ray shrugged, adding flippantly, “I might’ve been a bit jealous.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed as he digested that, trying to put the pieces together. He turned a questioning look to Trevor. “And you knew about it?”

“I, uh, caught him at it.” He fiddled with a loose seam, tugging and making it worse. “In the name of fairness, I should probably come clean about everything that, ah, happened between us.”

“Trevor.” A sort of wondering astonishment colouring the way Ray said his name. “Trevor, I shot at you, and you didn’t just keep it from Geoff, but from Ryan, too?”

“You shot him!?” Ryan went from sad puppy to glaring at Ray so fast, it had to give him emotional whiplash. Trevor was certainly feeling it by now.

“A warning shot!” Trevor defended Ray before the other could so much as open his mouth. “He missed me by a good inch. If he wanted to hit me, he would have.”

“I don’t think that sounds as reassuring as you think, dude,” Ray threw in, and that was clear amusement in his voice. Trevor elbowed him in the side in retaliation. “I was surprised you didn’t tell Geoff and have me thrown out of the crew. I thought you wanted me out of the picture.”

“I wanted Ryan to stop hurting. You were reminding him of the past, and not in a good way. For the most part.” Trevor huffed and kicked his legs. “So yeah, I wanted you gone as fast as possible.”

“Then why didn’t you? Get rid of me?”

Trevor squirmed in his seat, accidentally bumping shoulders with Ray. He didn’t want Ryan to know, to be disappointed or mad at him. He recognized that it was a bit hypocritical, considering Ryan had just shared his own secret, and that should make it easier, perhaps, but it actually made it harder. Their relationship was already in question, and they’d have to talk about that later without Ray, clear the air- Trevor didn’t want to add to that.

“I, ah, didn’t want to tell them. And they would’ve asked. Why you shot at me.” He fiddled with the loose seam, twirling it around his finger. “I’d have to tell them how I… provoked you.”

“Trevor.” A sharp inhale, and Trevor’s gaze flicked back to Ryan, who took his moment of preoccupation to gather himself. “Tell me what?”

Trevor grimaced. “You’re not the only one who made mistakes.”

He held Ryan’s stare, scrambling for words while the silence lingered, aware of Ray’s burning gaze on the back of his neck. Ryan arched a brow, demanding an answer, and Trevor swallowed because… because he owed him that much, even if he was unsure how to break it to him gently.

“Bit over a week ago,” he started, dropping his gaze to his hands, fingers twisting around each other uselessly. “You came home on laundry day and I was… waiting for you.”

Ryan’s eyes flickered past him, taking in Ray’s face, before coming to rest on Trevor’s face once more. He remained silent, though Trevor thought he already knew where this was leading. His expression didn’t give anything away.

“I, uh. May have caught on to Ray watching. Me. Before you came home.” Trevor shook his head, feeling heat crawl up his face and neck. “I should’ve told you. Instead I- I stripped. I seduced you, knowing Ray was watching, knowing you didn’t know.”

“You always had an exhibitionist streak.” Ryan’s voice was steady, devoid of emotion. On his other side, Ray made a surprised noise, watching them with renewed interest.

“It wasn’t fair to you.” Trevor steeled himself for Ryan’s reaction, eyes flickering over Ryan’s face, but it remained expressionless. “You can’t consent to a scene you don’t know about, and I didn’t think to ask you until after.”

The shame was a burning hot ember behind his ribs, pulsing with regret and embarrassment. He knew Ryan’s stance on public sex, and the fact that they were being watched in their own home didn’t change that he’d happily mislead Ryan just to scratch that itch to one up Ray. His poor impulse control ended in Ryan’s humiliation, and Trevor had only cared for his own gratification, the knowledge that Ryan was his, not Ray’s.

“In hindsight, I think I might’ve been jealous, too. Just a bit.”

Ryan sighed, hiding his face in his hands. Trevor reached out to him tentatively, brushing his fingers down his arm, lingering on his elbow before dropping his hand.

“If it’s any help,” Ray piped up, and Ryan spread his fingers just enough to peek through them, “it was incredibly hot. What I saw.” Ray paused as Ryan groaned, dropping his head to his knees and dragging his fingers through his loose hair. “I didn’t stay to watch long.”

“Long enough it pissed you off to be reminded of it, though,” Ryan muttered, voice muffled by his knees. Trevor blushed, dropping his hands in his lap.

“To be fair to all of us, it wouldn’t have taken much,” Ray mused, and Trevor appreciated the support, unexpected as it was. Then Ray sighed. “But, yeah. Long enough to see what was going on.”

“I don’t-” The words cut off with a gurgle, and Ryan lifted his head, if not quite looking either of them in the eye. “This is too much. All at once. I need time.”

Trevor hunched in on himself, pulling his knees up. “I understand,” he murmured, and he did. Hell, he could use some time to think everything over himself! He just-

Ryan’s hand on his knee surprised him out of his spiralling thoughts. He looked up at him from under his lashes, and finally emotions showed on Ryan’s face, a blend of discomfort, humiliation, but also a helpless sort of love, an exasperated fondness.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he said, and he sounded resolute. Trevor opened his mouth, but Ryan slapped his hand over it, silencing him. “I’m not. Like you said, I know what I want. You. We’ll figure it out.” Trevor couldn’t resist, he licked his palm. Ryan grimaced and pulled his hand back. “But not now.”

“We all could use a break,” Ray agreed, bumping their shoulders together. Trevor wondered how they’d gone from stalking to this, and he knew, he was there, but it still seemed unbelievable to him.

“Yeah. I guess we could.”

***

Ryan entered the kitchen to find Trevor busy at work, a tray of cookies already in the oven and dough for more in a bowl, waiting for the first batch to finish. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, watching Trevor wash up. Flour was smeared across one cheek, and before he could overthink it, he reached out and brushed it away. His fingers lingered, and their eyes met. Ryan let his hand drop, awkward like he hadn’t been with Trevor in a long time.

“You got something,” Ryan mumbled, gesturing at his own cheek, “there.”

Trevor reached up, touching his cheek with wet fingers. He startled, glancing at his hand dripping water, and grabbed the dish towel to wipe them.

Ryan watched, fondness twisting around guilt in his chest.

“Can we- I-” Ryan swallowed, scrubbing a hand over his face. Hid his expression while he struggled for words. “Did… Did Ray say where he- when he’s back?”

“Dunno.” Trevor shrugged, tossing the towel on the counter. “He was gone when I woke up.”

Ryan’s heart sunk.

It wasn’t unexpected, exactly. Ray was well enough now to take care of himself, and they’d all split up after their talk to brood. Perhaps it was more surprising that Ray had returned to spent one more night on their couch, but Ryan had taken it as a good sign, had started to hope. Now he was just reminded of all the times Ray left without a word.

Of the times he left Ryan thinking he wouldn’t come back.

Trevor glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, untying his apron and pulling it off. He pretended to busy himself folding it into a smaller and smaller square, his tone faux casual as he spoke up.

“He took the key, you know.”

Ryan’s head snapped up, heart fluttering in his chest. He cleared his throat, trying (and failing) to match Trevor’s nonchalance.

“What key?”

Trevor shot him an unimpressed look. “The one to our apartment you left on the table totally accidentally on purpose.”

“Ah,” Ryan said weakly. “That key.”

“Yeah, that key.” Trevor sounded dry and amused. “Clearly I’m not the only one who noticed because Ray took it with him when he left.”

Ryan dropped his gaze, wrapping his arms around himself. At the time it seemed like a good idea, returning the key Ray had held on to for years. A gesture of goodwill, an invitation. “Sorry. I should have cleared it with you, first.”

But Trevor waved him off, turning around and leaning against the counter. “It’s fine.”

It really wasn’t, Ryan thought, eyeing Trevor’s hunched shoulders. Perhaps not the key and the permission it implied, because if it really bothered Trevor he would have said something, or vanished the key himself. And Trevor wasn’t lying when he said Ray took it with him, so he must agree with Ryan’s intentions, to a point. But… after everything that came to light yesterday, Ryan should’ve at least asked first.

“We should- Can we-” Ryan cleared his throat. “Now might be a good time to, uh. Talk?”

Trevor bowed his head, staring at the timer of the oven. The cookies wouldn’t be ready for another thirty minutes.

“I’m still upset,” he said, not looking at Ryan. “And I recognize I have no room to judge, considering I fucked up, too.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Ryan acknowledged. He tugged on his ponytail, hard enough to feel it in the roots. The pain focussed him. “And I’m upset, too. So there’s that.”

“There’s that,” Trevor agreed, expression smoothing out. “I’m not mad at you for fucking around before we were dating. We weren’t really exclusive back then, I have no right to be.”

“Feelings aren’t always rational, though,” Ryan prodded him gently because his words didn’t ring quite true. More like Trevor wanted them to be. Trevor sighed and walked over to the table, dropping into a seat and kicking a chair out for Ryan.

“No, they’re not,” Trevor agreed and… hesitated. “I would’ve been jealous, I think, if you told me back then. Insecure. Now… now it’s rolled into this ball of upset, overshadowed by the fact you didn’t tell me.”

“Neither did you,” Ryan pointed out as the guilt twisted in his chest. Trevor closed his eyes, exhaling sharply.

“Yeah. So I understand why you did it, and yet-” He waved his hand through the air. “Here we are, unable to go whoopsie-daisy and move on.”

Amusement welled up inside Ryan, smoothing over the sharp edges of hurt. “That’s what the talking is for, isn’t it?”

Trevor sighed, which was as good as agreement in Ryan’s book. He reached out across the table, offering his hand to Trevor palm up. Trevor stared at it for several seconds, eyes flickering up to glance at Ryan through his lashes. Ryan held still and waited, until Trevor dropped his hand in Ryan’s, the move painfully slow. Ryan twisted his fingers through Trevor’s and squeezed very, very carefully, afraid of the fragility of the moment.

Trevor swallowed and squeezed back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was worried about what knowing might do to-” Ryan gestured between their chests with his free hand. “-this. Us. I didn’t want to mess up. And then I hadn’t said anything, and there wasn’t really a time to bring it up, and… I tried not to think about it. About Ray in general.” Ryan smiled, and it felt crooked and self-deprecating on his face. “I didn’t expect us to… work. To last.”

The admission fled his lips on a breath, and Trevor’s grip on his hand tightened. It wasn’t a new revelation, but he’d never dared to phrase it so directly. It was all subtext and between the lines, for him, even if he was sure Trevor had known.

“Ancient history,” Trevor quipped and made to wave it off. Ryan frowned.

“Except you’re still hurting because of something I did.” Trevor opened his mouth to protest, so Ryan stretched his fingers to run along the inside of Trevor’s wrist, feeling a shiver run through his boyfriend, shutting him up. “It’s still fresh for you. Just because I didn’t mean to hurt you, doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to feel guilty about it,” Trevor snapped back, pulling his hand free and crossing his arms. “How about that?”

Ryan huffed a laugh. “Are you trying to reverse psychology me into letting you off the hook?”

Trevor’s jaw fell, and his arms dropped from their defensive position. “Of course not!” Ryan arched his brow, holding Trevor’s gaze until he squirmed. “...maybe a little?”

“Uh huh.” Ryan’s laughter turned into a low chuckle. “For what it’s worth, I find that I don’t… mind the thought of it as much as I assumed I would.”

“Oh?” It was Trevor’s turn to raise his eyebrows, which he then ruined by waggling them, mouth quirked into a lascivious grin. “Does that mean you’re warming up to semi-public sex?”

“No.” Ryan scoffed and shook his head for emphasis. “As much as I’m sure you would enjoy it, I don’t think I can. And I’m not happy that you started a scene without my consent or awareness.”

Trevor sank down in his chair, shoulders slumping and grin turning into a pout. “I know. It was wrong of me, and I won’t do it again,” he swore, and his expression was earnest. Ryan sent him a quicksilver smile.

“However…” Ryan trailed off, watching in amusement as Trevor perked up. “I think… I think because it was Ray… I don’t know.”

Trevor’s brow furrowed, and he sat up straight. Ryan felt a flush work its way up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Ryan?”

“The thought of Ray watching us is- Hot. Really hot,” Ryan blurted out, stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out. Trevor stared at him, and Ryan’s face burned. He averted his eyes, the flames of shame burning away at the knot of guilt in his stomach.

Ryan knew he was hung up on Ray. As Ray said yesterday, they’d never officially broken up. In the back of his mind, there was a stubborn glimmer of hope that Ray might come back one day. It grew easier and easier to ignore over time, as his relationship with Trevor grew and blossomed and turned out better than he could have imagined.

But a corner of his heart still belonged to Ray.

Hearing Ray’s side of things made it worse, nurturing the forbidden hope to new heights. Ryan loved Trevor, he did, and yet his traitorous heart couldn’t help but flutter at the thought of having a new chance with Ray. Not that he would ever act on it - he’d chosen Trevor, loud and clear, couldn’t bear to lose him. It just added to his guilt.

“Because it was Ray watching us,” Trevor repeated, keen eyes never leaving Ryan’s flushed face. “Because you love him.”

A beat, before Ryan dropped his head, shame curdling in his stomach. “I do,” he admitted in a whisper.

Trevor’s chair scraped over the kitchen tiles. Ryan watched from under his lashes as he stood up, his legs coming closer until their knees bumped together. Cautiously, Ryan lifted his head and spread his legs, a silent invitation. Trevor smiled as he stepped between them, one hand wrapping around Ryan’s neck, the other carding through Ryan’s hair.

“And you love me,” Trevor stated, meeting his eyes.

“I do,” Ryan hurried to assure him. Trevor hummed, fingers dancing over his head in a teasing pattern.

“I feel like it should bother me more,” he mused, fingers trailing down Ryan’s temple, along his cheek. They lingered on Ryan’s lips, shushing him while Trevor thought. “It doesn’t, to clarify. And not just because the idea of being watched turns me on.”

A shiver ran down Ryan’s spine, an electric zing of arousal. Trevor noticed, the hand on the back of his neck tightening.

“And why is that?” Ryan breathed, reaching out to curl his hands around Trevor’s knees.

“I’m not sure,” Trevor murmured, his hands dropping to Ryan’s shoulder blades as he slipped onto his lap. Their lips were barely an inch apart, their breath mingling. “I can see why you fell for him, I suppose. He’s got this certain je ne sais quoi.”

Ryan let his hands glide along Trevor’s thighs, resting lightly on his butt, before wrapping his arms around his back and pulling him closer.

“I didn’t know you speak French.” Their lips brushed as he spoke.

“Used to date a Canadian,” Trevor explained offhandedly, tilting his head to capture Ryan’s mouth in a kiss. Ryan closed his eyes and leaned in, enjoying the warm pressure of lips against his own. He opened them more than willingly when Trevor licked between them, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Trevor’s hands ran smooth circles over his back, his weight in his lap reassuring.

He hadn’t messed up too bad.

Even with his secret out in the open, on top of this new admission, he still had Trevor.

“We should probably talk about that,” he mumbled into the kiss. Trevor sighed and sat back, giving him a little space.

“We should,” he agreed, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. Ryan watched him, gaze flickering between his brown eyes. One hand slid up to tangle in Ryan’s hair, and Ryan tightened his arms around Trevor. “Perhaps we could also talk about the possibility of inviting Ray into our bed, hmm?”

“Fuck,” Ryan gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling Trevor closer. Their clothed erections rubbed together, and Ryan’s breathing hitched.

“Is that a yes?” Trevor asked, amusement colouring his voice. His fingers rubbed along the base of his head, and Ryan leaned into the touch, opening his eyes to observe Trevor’s face. His pupils were wide with arousal, his lips curled into a relaxed smile. There was nothing to speak of unease, none of the usual ticks when he put on a mask. The idea that Trevor was genuinely interested in taking things that way...

“I’ll consider it,” Ryan grunted. He paused, making sure Trevor was paying attention to him, before he continued, adding a note of warning to  his tone. “I don’t know if I can have Ray that close without getting feelings involved. If it’s just the sex you want, we should find someone else. But if you want Ray… I doubt it’ll be just a one time thing.”

“Then that’s something we should also put on the To Talk list.” Trevor smirked, rolling his hips forward. “Later.”

“Later,” Ryan agreed, voice dropping into a low growl. His hands dropped to cup Trevor’s ass and squeezed.

***

A week after he left, Ray stood once more before the door to his- their- Trevor and Ryan’s apartment. His old key hung on its string around his neck, a heavy weight for all it’s meaning, a choice to be made. Ray curled his fingers around the metal and clutched the key to his chest.

This was it, then.  

Swallowing, Ray pulled the string over his head to unlock and open the door. He dropped the key in the designated bowl, noting Ryan’s, at least, was in there, too. The TV was on, images flickering across the screen, throwing weird shadows. The sound was muted, though, and the living room empty. Ray lingered by the couch, fingers trailing across the blankets thrown over the back. Washed since his stay, and ready for use.

The implications weren’t lost on Ray. 

A lovely smell permeated the kitchen, the pot on the hearth still warm to the touch. On the kitchen table stood a stack of cookie jars in garish colours. Ray remembered vaguely passing his grandma’s recipe on to Trevor, but with the fever, he doubted the instructions came across clear. He wondered if Trevor managed to make them anyway. If there was anything Ryan’s perfect boyfriend couldn’t do.

Ray paused in the door, lingering on the thought. It didn’t sting, for once, or taste of bitterness. Maybe it was the talk, or watching Trevor and Ryan be at odds, or Trevor taking care of him while he was sick, but… Now that Trevor wasn’t labelled enemy number one in his head, all his observations came tumbling back in a new light. Trevor was talented, impressive - the way he climbed three stories like it was nothing, slipping into a barely open window; going toe to toe with Ray to protect those he cared about, wielding his words with vicious precision - sly and cunning and attractive.

Ray froze. He liked Trevor. Like liked, even. Fuck.

A noise tore him out of his revelation, and Ray cocked his head. Things were complicated enough with Ryan without adding a crush on top of it. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and followed the noise to the bedroom door. Muffled voices spoke in low tones, too quiet for Ray to make out. His heart skipped a beat. They were both home.

He gathered his courage and knocked.

A beat, the sudden silence of interrupted conversation, then the door opened and a shirtless Trevor poked his head through. Ray opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but ended up gaping at Trevor’s abs instead, brain short circuiting. Trevor raised a brow, an amused quirk to his lips.

“Oh, it’s you. Come on in,” he said breezily, turning around and leaving the door open for Ray.

The shutters were drawn, slits letting in enough light to see by. The room was tidier than Ray remembered it, the worn carpet replaced by luxurious fluff. Ray absently closed the door behind him as he looked around, only to freeze when he saw Ryan, lounging on the foot of the bed in only his boxers. Boxers which showed a very visible tent.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Ray blurted, cheeks aflame. “I, uh, I can come back later-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Trevor waved him off.

“Dude.” Ray shot him a disbelieving look, eyes flickering pointedly over Ryan’s almost naked body and back. He arched a brow at Trevor.

“It’s fine,” Ryan put in, shrugging. “What’s up, Ray?”

Ryan’s tone remained even, more amused than annoyed. Ray swallowed, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Trevor leaned against the dresser, hips cocked and arms crossed, flexing his triceps, and Ray quickly averted his eyes before he could get caught staring.

“I, uh… Was thinking. About sticking around.” He bit his lip, shoving his fists into the pouch of his hoodie to stop from fidgeting. “It’s been… good. Seeing the crew.” You, he didn’t need to say. “But… I wanted to clear it with you first.”

Trevor and Ryan exchanged an odd look, charged with some sort of tension, and Ray braced himself for the rejection. He knew he’d fucked up, that this was a potshot at best. Had worn out his welcome, and they’d put up with him longer than expected, took care of him. He’d hoped that meant...

“Sure,” Ryan said, and Trevor nodded.

“Good with me.” They turned to look at Ray in unison, and his heart skipped a beat. “You got a place yet?”

“Nah.” Ray shrugged one shoulder, the tension unraveling in his chest, warmth blossoming in its place. “Gavin offered me his couch until I do.”

Another speaking look was exchanged, and Ray started wondering what he’d missed. Something else was going on, some subtext he wasn’t privy to.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here,” Trevor suggested, and Ray’s head snapped up to stare at him. Trevor shrugged. “You know. If you want to. No pressure, or expectations, or anything.”

“I… okay?” Ray cleared his throat, glancing between Trevor and Ryan. The former’s expression was inscrutable, and he didn’t know Trevor well enough to read him. Ryan on the other hand was trying hard to keep his face blank, but there was a hopeful gleam to his eyes, the set of his jaw determined. “I mean… are you sure? I… I know we still have a lot to talk about. To clear the air.”

Their last talk had been a good first step, putting things into perspective. Ray wasn’t one to open up about his feelings, but having Trevor there, a mediating presence, had helped. He could see now that he came back to Los Santos expecting everything to fall into place. After all, he’d fixed the obvious problems, and with the drugs out of the way, his relationships - with Ryan, with the lads, the crew - should return back to normal, right?

But it wasn’t that easy: the damage had already been done. There was more work to do, more to heal.

Without Trevor there to focus his anger on, Ray was sure he’d have left at the first sign of difficulty. But Trevor had been such an easy target for his frustration, a scapegoat for being rejected, an obstacle to overcome. Except then he went and became a person to Ray, a real, flawed person with his own shit going on, and still reaching out to help him and Ryan through this.

Ray was under no illusions who Trevor was doing this for, yet a part of him felt grateful.

“I realize I was wrong to expect our relationship to just be put on hold while I was gone. To expect you to keep a promise I’d already broken, without even talking to you about it.”

Ray met Ryan’s eyes and grimaced. He hadn’t been thinking straight, caught between the drugs’ influence and short-term withdrawal he went through trying to hide it from Ryan, but he didn’t want to start over with justifications and excuses.

It was Ryan’s turn to clear his throat. “Things have… changed. Obviously.” He gestured towards Trevor, who quirked a smile at them. “But… we talked about this after you left. About you, and us.”

Ray nodded, having expected as much. It eased him somewhat, knowing the offer wasn’t coming out of nowhere. After everything, he didn’t want to be the reason Trevor and Ryan broke up. They were too perfect together, so much better than he and Ryan ever managed to be.

Ray glanced at Trevor, feeling awkward. He’d been caught between his and Ryan’s drama, and still had it in him to let Ray close. After the words they’d exchanged, the shots fired… Ray wasn’t sure he would’ve been as gracious, but he was grateful.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Trevor’s grin grew into a full-blown smirk, and he let his gaze slowly wander over Ray, as he added offhandedly, “It’s all part of my masterplan. Entirely selfish, I assure you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ray felt amusement bubble up in his chest, and he arched an eyebrow at Trevor, challenging, “And what kind of plan would that be?”

“Why, how to get you to join us, of course,” Trevor drawled, cocking his head to the side, eyes flickering to Ryan, still lounging half-naked on the bed. Ray’s breathing hitched, sure he must have misunderstood.

“What?”

“In bed,” Trevor clarified, which really, entirely unnecessary. The innuendo was thick in the air, and Ray couldn’t help but glance down at Trevor’s naked chest. Trevor, noticing, dropped his arms and flexed, definitely on purpose this time.

Ray’s thoughts raced, even as his brain shut down. His pants grew tight, and the idea definitely had appeal- Trevor had appeal, nevermind Ryan, but… Ray glanced furtively at Ryan, unsure what he would think of his boyfriend propositioning his ex. However, Ryan was just watching them calmly, knowingly, raising a brow at Ray’s questioning look.

“Like I said,” he spoke up after another beat of silent, voice dry, “We talked about us and you.”

“Oh,” Ray replied, dumbfounded. His gaze lingered on Ryan’s boxer shorts, on the proof that he was into this as much as Ray was. He licked his lips, turning back to Trevor. “Okay, yeah.”

Trevor’s smirk softened, something hopeful in his voice. “Yeah?”

Ray let his eyes wander down Trevor’s fit form, before slowly travelling up to meet his eyes. They should probably talk about this first, a voice that sounded rather like Trevor piped up in the back of his mind. At the very least of what they expected of him, if this was a one time deal or something else, but… Ray’s never been one for words when actions spoke louder.

You’re more than welcome to stay here echoed through his mind, taking on new meaning in light of this.

“I owe you one,” Ray murmured, walking up to Trevor slowly and staring up at him. He’d always liked his men tall, dark and handsome, and Trevor hit all those categories. Ray had come to apologize, not just to Ryan, but to Trevor, too, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

He sank to his knees, watching as Trevor’s pupils widened with lust, and smirked.

***

“Hey Geoff.”

“Ray? Everything okay, buddy?”

“Yeah.” Ray bit his lip. It was a gamble, but… What did he have left to lose? “I’m just calling to let you know, I’m sticking around for a bit longer.”

“Yeah?” A pause as Geoff hesitated. “You sure, buddy?”

Ray leaned against the doorway, staring at the sight before him. Ryan was sleeping sprawled across the old couch, his head in Trevor’s lap. Trevor was holding a tablet in one hand, his other switching between brushing through Ryan’s hair and swiping furiously over the touchscreen. Ray waited for the sting of jealousy, that ugly burning feeling as his gut twisted at the sight, but… nothing. He felt warm, a flutter in his stomach he did not quite dare to name. Trevor looked up, catching Ray’s eyes and quirked a brow.

There was an empty space next to him, just big enough for Ray to slip in.

“Yeah,” Ray breathed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Geoff replied hesitantly, the static crackling with his long exhale. “You’re always welcome with the crew.”

Vagabond and Mogar went in first, shooting the sliding glass doors open with a round from their heavy gatling guns. Shards raining down on them, Ramsey stepped through the doors between them, flanked on either side by the Golden Boy and Treyco, all three wearing suits and sunglasses. The Sauce pulled up the rear, back to the Fakes as he took aim at the civilians, keeping them away.

“Ladies, Gentlemen and other fair folk, please remain calm. This is a robbery,” Ramsey announced, his handlebar mustache twitching.

“Please put your hands in the air and lie down on the floor, face down,” Treyco continued, clasping his hands behind his back. Then, as if he had a sudden epiphany, he added, “Oh, and if you would make our job easier and just place all your valuables on the floor next to you, it’d be much appreciated.”

The Golden Boy tilted his head and pulled his golden sunglasses down to look at a bank teller over the rim. “Don’t even think about alerting the police, love.”

The woman shrank back, raising her hands at being caught. Trevor glanced over the crowd, and they followed suit, dropping to the floor as the Fakes spread out between them.

Michael and Ryan set their miniguns down by the door, pulling out a shotgun and a rifle respectively. While Gavin and Geoff weaved through the crowd, picking up wallets, clocks and jewelry as they went, Trevor gestured for Michael to follow him, leaving Alfredo and Ryan to crowd control. Trevor walked past the cowering hostages and into the back offices, and Michael wasn’t far behind.

Five employees huddled in the corner, held at gunpoint by a large man in a suit. Michael tossed him a mask, and Larry pulled it on with a grin, lowering his gun as Michael raised his own.

Planting Larry on the inside had been a stroke of genius. Fixing the schedule to have him on shift during the right time took some work, but between bribing an employee to call in sick and blackmailing the shift manager to call in Larry from the backup roster, it had paid off. Worth it, being nearly shot by Ray, Trevor thought.

“The alarm is disabled,” Larry reported, while Trevor slapped a small electronic device onto a keypad next to a secured door. “And the lockdown sequence is jammed.”

“Good job, Shifty. Let’s get everyone out of here and join the others,” Trevor said in a mild tone of voice. Larry nodded and turned back to the workers.

“You heard the man. Up you get.”

The device beeped while Larry and Michael herded the hostages out of the room, the keypad lighting up green and the door clicking open. Trevor picked it back up, stuffing the tech into a pouch on his belt, and went on ahead.

The safe was off to the sides behind the back offices and down the stairs, separated by two unguarded doors framed in iron bars. Trevor wondered if Larry had pulled the guards away or delayed the shift change, as he took out his lockpicks from his breast pocket and had them open in no time. The safe took up an entire wall, secured by heavy bars and triple alarms. Trevor didn’t bother with trying to pick this one, just pulling out a different device and hooking it up to the electronic display. Then he tapped his comm.

“Axial, you’re up.”

“Your wish is my command,” Matt drawled, followed by a flurry of keys clacking. “Sequence started. Might take a minute.”

“Copy that,” Trevor replied, nodding at Michael who was busy setting explosives on the wall at the top of the stairs, adjacent to the parking lot behind the bank. Jeremy would meet them there with an empty ice cream truck to sneak their bounty away while the cops were distracted with the vans up front.

“Charges are set. Stay clear, Rimmy Tim,” Michael said, voice crackling over the comms and echoing down the stairs at the same time.

The codebreaker beeped, and the heavy steel lock disengaged. The tumblers rumbled a countdown as the safe door unlocked, followed by a loud boom. The upstairs wall exploded outward, brick and mortar crumbling, covering the noise of Trevor pushing the safe open.

“I’m in.” Dust filled the stairway, hiding two distinctive shapes coming towards him. “Could use some more hands down here, boys.”

Michael and Jeremy walked out of the smoke left behind by the explosion, carrying four empty duffle bags each. They strode past Trevor, dropping the bags on the table in the middle. Trevor followed, bypassing the piles of cash Michael and Jeremy were stuffing into the duffles to try his luck with the locked security deposit boxes. Geoff, Gavin and Larry joined their group half a minute later, speeding things up. Shortly after Michael grabbed two of the filled bags and carried them to the truck, staying in the blown open wall to keep an eye out.

Trevor tuned everyone else out, his focus zeroing in on the locks of box after box. Jewelry, documentation, a small bag of diamonds, more jewelry-

“Incoming. South-west, two cop cars,” Ray’s voice interrupted the flow, and everything stuttered for a beat. Sweat dripped down Trevor’s brow, and he lifted an arm to wipe it.

“I’ve got one as well, North inbound, ETA 90 seconds,” Mica added. Another beat, and activity resumed, faster, less careful this time. Trevor stashed his lockpicks in one of his many pockets and helped stuffing the rest of the cash and loot into their bags. Sirens sounded in the distance, louder and louder with each passing second.

“Alright, assholes, initiate exfil,” Geoff shouted into the comms, and Trevor winced at the volume.

Larry met them at the truck, jumping in the back. They were hoping to get him out without the cops getting a clear look at him, Matt taking care of the camera footage and digital traces. Geoff and Gavin jumped into the driver’s and passenger’s seat respectively, being the worst shots of the crew. Jeremy and Michael rejoined the rest up front, but Trevor took a quick detour to the manager’s office.

Larry’s files were easy to find, thank God, all of the back-up roster files neatly piled on the desk as per their instructions. It was always a risk, blackmailing a person, but it looked like it worked out with this one. Not wasting time with finesse, Trevor dumped the entire pile into the industrial shredder next to the desk.

When he returned to the foyer, Alfredo was just locking the hostages in the bathroom. He looked up as Trevor passed him and nodded, falling into step with him. Nerves shivered down Trevor’s back. Everything was going according to plan.

Gunfire sounded from the doors, glass windows breaking. Michael, Jeremy and Ryan pressed themselves flat against the giant marble pillars framing the entrance, peeking out to return fire. Trevor and Alfredo ducked low behind the teller as they moved up to join them.

“Micachu, Brownman, we’re going to make a run for the vans, cover us,” Michael called out through the comms.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Jack responded instead. Outside the chopper swooped low, passing in front of the entryway, raining bullets from above.

Ryan laughed, high and giddy, and motioned Trevor to go first. Trevor winked and blew him a kiss, before hurrying after Jeremy and Alfredo as they made a run for the vans with no cover between them and the police. They made it just in time before the first cop recovered their wits to take potshots at them, bullets pinging off the bulletproof glass of the reinforced van.

“Shotgun!” Alfredo called, and Jeremy shrugged, slipping into the passenger’s door and crawling across the middle console to the driver’s seat, Trevor slid open the side panels of both vans to allow for easier access for their team.

“What are you waiting for, assholes?” Alfredo shouted, waving at Michael and Ryan crouching in the doors of the bank. “Come on!”

“I’m not leaving my minigun behind, moron!” Michael yelled back, and true to his words hefted the heavy gatling gun up, shotgun slung over his back. Trevor closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Ryan did the same. Those idiots.

“Then fucking get a move on, you idiots!” Jeremy hollered, ducking as low as the steering wheel allowed.

Trevor peeked around the van, pulling back immediately as the police opened fire on him. Fuck. They were inching closer. A glance up into the sky showed the chopper was still turning back around, not yet ready for another swoop.

It didn’t seem to matter, however, as Michael and Ryan opened fire on the cops in return, gatling guns rattling away as thousands of bullets rained down on the police, the two of them stepping forward in concert, slowed down by the heavy weight of the guns and grinning like loons. Trevor rolled his eyes and hopped into the second van, making for the driver’s seat, while Alfredo leaned against the one Jeremy was driving.

In hindsight, that was when everything went wrong.

Several things happened at once. Firstly, the second van exploded under a hail of bullets from behind enemy lines, just as Trevor was leaning forward between the front seats. Secondly, the explosion rocked through their car, throwing everyone off guard. Trevor hit his head on the dashboard with a loud thunk. Thirdly, Michael stumbled back, dropping his minigun. With a curse he bent down to lift it again, Ryan shifting to cover him.

Not that Trevor saw. The explosion caught him just as he was about to climb into the driver’s seat, the armature cutting into his forehead. Blood trickled down his nose and chin, and Trevor tumbled back, dazed. Smoke filled his lungs as the van caught fire. The haze did not help his swimming vision at all.

“Shit!” someone yelled, but Trevor couldn’t tell who with his ears ringing like that. Hands under his arms pulled him up, and he followed them blindly, stumbling as they helped him out of the car and into the back of Jeremy’s van.

“We need to go! Before they blow this one, too!”

Trevor blinked and shook his head. Gunfire echoed across the plaza. Alfredo was keeping him upright with an arm around his waist, his own over Alfredo’s shoulders. Then Michael blocked his view as he reached them, tossing his minigun to the back and jumping into the van next to Trevor.

“Go!” Ryan called out, and the van started rolling.

Shaking his head to clear it from the high-pitched screeching noises, Trevor scanned the outside. Ryan was maybe fifty feet away from the van, gatling gun pointed straight to the left. Trevor turned to look and his heart sunk. The police had pulled around to flank them, to get a clear shot at the inside of the van.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed, already shifting his minigun to point at the approaching cops. The van started rolling, curving towards Ryan to pick him up. Alfredo tossed Trevor a pistol, and he fumbled for a second before getting a steady grip. Jeremy bobbed and weaved, trying to get closer to Ryan, but having to swerve to avoid another hail of bullets.

“Ryan! Come on, battle buddy!”

“Go ahead!” Ryan yelled back, his rapid fire forcing the cops to duck behind those outfitted with riot shields. “I’ll hold them off!”

“Don’t even joke, you dick!” Trevor croaked, but his voice got lost in the noise. He lifted his gun, aimed along the sights and downed one of the shield dudes. Aim, pull, down. Aim, pull, down. Trevor got lost in the rhythm, time slowing down. The angle changed as the van moved forward in sudden bursts and swerves.

“RYAN!”

Ray’s voice ripped him out of his trance. Trevor’s head whipped around, to see Ryan falling to his knees, minigun clattering to the floor.

Trevor’s heart stopped.

“Ryan!”

Trevor jumped out of the van, Alfredo hot on his heels. The cops were swarming forward, guns shifting towards the open side of the van, but Trevor didn’t even notice them. Blood was pooling on the cobblestone where Ryan was laying on all fours, twitching on the floor. He scrambled against the stone, trying to push himself up, when a second gunshot tore through the vest on his shoulder, bits of cloth flying through the air.

Ryan crumbled.

Trevor screamed.

“Fuck.” Michael cursed. The rapid fire from his gatling gun drove the cops back for a second, but the shieldbearers rallied in front of their colleagues, moving forward like an unstoppable wave.

Trevor made to lunge forward, get to Ryan before them, drag him into the van, when Alfredo stumbled into him with a shout. He dropped his gun, trying to catch himself or else go tumbling, and when he turned to yell at Alfredo, he saw the other’s pained grimace, the blood spreading across his shoulder, down his sleeve. He had dropped his rifle, too, and was leaning his weight on Trevor.

Fuck.

It wasn’t even a choice. Fuck.

He glanced at Ryan, even as he dragged Alfredo back, towards the van.

The swarm of cops reached him, surrounding his deadly still body. Shots filled the air from the gun still rattling away in the van, but they pinged harmlessly off the shields. Then the first crumbled. Another, and another, holes in the back of their necks as they fell forward, hit by a sniper round.

Trevor’s legs knocked against the floor of the van and he fell inside, barely catching himself on Michael’s shoulder. Alfredo grunted, dropping to the floor, but Trevor was already scrambling for a gun.

“Close the damn door!” Fredo shouted. Trevor whirled on him with wide eyes, the magazine sliding into the gun with a click.

“No! We need to get Ryan!”

“We need to fucking leave!” Fredo snapped back, holding his arm. Michael hesitated, the gunfire rattling to a stop. Then he dropped his minigun and rammed the side door shut. Wheels squealed and the van lurched forward.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Trevor jumped up, lunging for the door. Michael caught him and pinned him against the opposite wall.

“He’s right! We need to go!” A sharp turn threw them off their feet, but Michael held fast onto Trevor, rolling on top of him. “They’ve got him! There’s nothing we can do, idiot!”

“WE NEED TO HELP HIM! WE- RYAN!”

Michael’s face was a determined mask, his mouth a grim line. He wrestled the gun from his hand, throwing it to the back. The van lurched and everyone slid sideways, Jeremy cursing up a storm up front.

“Get a fucking hold of your damn self, fuck!” Michael shook him, Trevor’s head bumping against the metal floor. Not helpful, with how dizzy he already felt. “We need to fucking get out of here first, or none of us can fucking help your fucking boyfriend!”

Trevor bared his teeth at him, and Michael responded in time. He couldn’t think beyond the rapid beat of his heart, stuck in his throat, the blood rushing through his ears. Ryan. Ryan was out there, surrounded by enemies, hurt, bleeding-

“If you’re done,” Alfredo interrupted his thoughts, words pressed through gritted teeth. “I could use some help here, guys.”

Michael stared Trevor down for a moment longer, before nodding and getting up. Trevor remained on the floor, letting his head fall back. It smarted, but he didn’t care. Alfredo was bleeding, he recalled. And so was Trevor. He lifted a hand to his face, carefully tracing up his nose. His fingers came back wet and red.

Outside, guns fired and tires squealed, the blades of at least one chopper building a nice background thrum. Trevor closed his eyes and dropped his hand.

Behind closed lids, Ryan fell to his knees over and over and over again.

***

Ray picked off cops one by one as the crew made their way back to the vans. The distraction worked - Geoff and their stolen treasures made their idle way through traffic, unhindered by the multiplying police force. Michael called for cover fire, and Ray readied himself, even as Jack swooped low with a whoop. The descending chopper threw the cops off balance, scattering out of formation and cover. Ray opened fire to help the confusion along.

The new guys broke cover first, sprinting across the short distance to the vans. Most cops ducked down to avoid the spattering of bullets from above. Those brave and stupid souls who risked taking aim, Ray sniped before they got a shot off.

“Headshot!” Mica called over the comm, a private channel open just between the two of them as not to distract the rest of the crew. She sounded smug. “Brings me up to 17. Take that!”

Ray grinned, sighted down his rifle and took out the tire of an arriving SWAT van. The car careened into the crowd of coppers hiding behind the police barricade, creating an opening in the line of defense. Better to take the riot gear out early in the game.

“Still on 16,” he returned the banter, lining up his next shot. “Oh, wait. Call it a tie.”

“Jackass,” Mica muttered, but she sounded like she was having fun. “18, fuck your tie.”

“Hey! Bowties are classic,” Ray snarked. Michael and Ryan were finally moving to the vans and Ray concentrated his fire on the ducking cops.

“Unlike your t-shirt you mean,” Mica shot back. Ray was halfway through formulating his comeback, when chaos erupted down on the streets. One of the cops salvaging the down SWAT van found a rocket launcher, exploding one of the getaway vans. Ray reacted a second too late, flames bursting forth from the hit car in the corner of his eyes. Two bullet holes bloomed on the shooter's body at more or less the same time, one in the forehead and one through the throat.

“Shit,” Ray mumbled, and Mica grunted in agreement. She took another shot, exploding the rocket already loaded in the launcher, destroying both ammunition and the weapon.

“Is everyone alright?” Jack’s voice echoed through the comms, nearly drowned in the static of the wind.

“Treyco’s down,” the new guy - Sauce - reported.

“What?” Ryan’s voice was tight, sharp, and Ray saw him take two long steps towards the vans, before Michael cursed and dropped his minigun. Ryan hesitated for barely a second before swinging around and unleashing a hail of bullets at the cops, keeping them from advancing.

“Just a graze,” Michael grit out, scrambling for the heavy weapon. “I’m fine.”

“Hurry up and get in!” Jeremy yelled. “We need to go! Before they blow this one, too!”

They kept shouting orders at each other down there, and Ray tuned them out. The cops had salvaged riot gear from the downed SWAT car and another arrived just then. Helmets and shields were passed around as the cops advanced on the escaping Fakes.

“Ryan! Come on, battle buddy!”

Michael had made it to the remaining van, limping and lugging his heavy gun with him. Ryan still stood halfway between the bank entrance and their escape vehicle, keeping up the relentless coverfire. But the cops were better armed with shields now and they kept advancing on him.

“Go! I’ll hold them off!”

The shieldbearers were becoming a serious problem. They took the bullets with little hesitation, and they were closing in from the flank now, too. There was a small gap, though, between their helmets and their armoured vests. Not a problem for a sniper, if only they stopped moving so much… Ray took a deep breath.

“Shit. I don’t have a good angle,” Mica cursed.

“Take out the SWAT cars,” Ray ordered, focussing on taking down the shields. If he could get a break in the line, the coppers would have to regroup or risk Ryan mowing them down with his minigun…

A car exploded as Mica took his advice, and Ray used the breather to check in on the crew. Everyone but Ryan had gathered at the remaining van, and the van was zig-zagging its way towards where Ryan covered them.

The moment of inattention was all they needed.

A bullet tore through Ryan’s leg, and he cried out. Ray’s scope swept past and then immediately swung back as another bullet hit Ryan straight in the vest. Shit. He could only watch as Ryan sank to one knee, minigun lurching but never stopping its spray of bullets. Fear shivered down his spine, his stomach turning itself into knots. The line of cops was too close, hiding behind their shields. Another bullet tore through Ryan’s jacket, blood welling up from the wound-

“RYAN!”

Ryan dropped his gun, bracing himself on his elbows as he fell forward. Ray’s heart lurched, but he didn’t have time to keep watching him. The van pulled around to get closer to Ryan, but the cops were rushing forward now that Ryan stopped shooting. He had to keep them back for long enough for the crew to get Ryan-

Pop. Pop. Pop. Ray took half a second to aim, before pulling the trigger and moving on to the next target. Shieldbearers first, leave the police open to fire from the van. Michael’s gatling gun was a rattling echo through the comms, only drowned out by Trevor’s high-pitched screaming. Ray tuned them out.

The cops kept coming. From the corner of his eyes Ray saw the van pull closer, two figures jumping out and running towards Ryan in a mad dash. A cop car exploded, and Michael muttered curses in his ear. The chopper was coming around, as fast as it could but still too slow, too far away. The police pressed on and the crew was forced to retreat into the van, the door sliding shut and the van pulling away just as the shieldbearers swarmed around Ryan’s body, hiding him from view.

Ray kept shooting them, their bodies joining Ryan’s on the ground. His heart beat loud in his ears. Fuck. They were leaving him there. Aim. What if Ryan. What if- Shoot. He needed- he needed- The coppers were swarming around the bank now, some returning to their vehicles to chase the Fakes, others securing the scene. One was hauling Ryan’s limp body from the floor, carrying him away. Ray shot the cop down without a second thought.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Trevor’s voice tore through his panic. Fuck. What was he doing?

He zoomed in. Ryan’s chest was heaving, his arms twitching.

Alive. He was alive.

But still bleeding. Chances were 50-50 the cops would just let him bleed out. They needed to get him out. They needed a plan.

The noise of choppers got louder, but when Ray looked up from his rifle, he saw they weren’t Jack’s. Police choppers. Fuck. Jack’s was already rising from covering the van’s escape to the roof Mica was sniping from, a sitting duck unless he got her away.

He needed to get away, too. He’d be no use to Ryan captured.

In practiced motions he disassembled the sniper rifle, hiding it away in its case. He slung the black case over his shoulders, formed to look like he was carrying an instrument. The hood of his hoodie drawn deep into his face, Ray climbed down the ladder and then hopped to the fire escape until he made it into an alley. He slipped away into the crowd gathered there to gawk at the police presence with no self-preservation, and pushed his hands into his hoodie to hide their shaking.

He needed a plan. If Ryan lived, if they got him into Bolingbroke Penitentiary’s high security tract… It’d be a lot of work to break him out, and who knew how long that would take. And if the wrong officer made the call, if someone with a mind for vengeance got to Ryan first... If, if, if. Ray couldn’t risk it.

The sirens deafened him as he walked down the streets, pushing through the crowds. An ambulance rushed past, its lights reflecting in Ray’s glasses, and he paused.

Now, there was an idea. Risky, maybe, but…

Most of the others were wounded, and Geoff and Gavin’s faces were too well known. Ray didn’t know the B-Team well enough to say if they’d play along on such a dangerous gamble, but he couldn’t do it alone. Michael would, but he’d been bleeding last Ray saw him, there was no way Geoff would let him go.

None of them he could be sure to help him. Except...

Except.

Ray grit his teeth and ducked into an alley. He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

He had to find Trevor.

***

Trevor’s ears were ringing. Lights flashed past his closed lids, the ground shaking under his feet. Thoughts circled through his mind, round and round and round, until all he could see was red, dripping down Ryan’s chest, pooling at his feet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Trevor opened his eyes. Caleb and Andy hustled through the safehouse, bandaging injuries, stopping the bleeding. Ashley and Sarah flitted in and out, carrying packages. Michael’s leg was laid up on a chair as Andy worked on it, holding a pair of tweezers and looking for the bullet. Trevor wasn’t even sure when he got shot. Gavin was fussing over his boi, and Trevor tore his gaze away. Geoff was on the phone, coordinating with… someone. Trevor hadn’t paid enough attention to catch who.

Everyone was accounted for, except…

Ryan.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Trevor’s chest heaved as his throat constricted, his stomach tying itself into knots. Everything ached, the world swimming in front of his eyes and he doubled over, gasping for breath. His heart drummed against his chest, a heavy beat to pump the blood through his ears, deafening. And before his eyes Ryan fell to his knees with a silent cry.

Trevor flinched. He needed- needed to get out. He-

“Air,” he croaked to Matt sitting next to him. Matt waved him off without looking up from his work, and Trevor stumbled to his feet. He made his way through the crowd, offering Fredo a quick smile and brushing off Jack’s concerned hand. 

Fresh air helped, even if ‘fresh’ was relative in the polluted city. But the breeze felt cool on his skin, and Trevor closed his eyes. No one was left behind. It might as well be the Fakes’ crew slogan, and Trevor reminded himself of it as he took deep, gulping breaths. The cops might have Ryan for now, but they would get him back. It was just a matter of time. Lights flashed over his closed eyelids, red and white, red and white, red and-

Trevor blinked his eyes open.

An ambulance pulled up to the curb, emergency lights flaring rhythmically. Trevor stared, and it took a moment for what he was seeing to register. He didn’t know how Steffie managed to get them an ambulance, but that would help in transporting Michael and Fredo-

The driver’s door slammed open, nearly hitting him in the face. Trevor took a step back and met Ray’s dark eyes.

“Here,” Ray said, pushing something soft and white into his chest, Trevor’s arms coming up reflexively to hold onto the cloth. “Go get changed in the back.”

“...what?”

Ray made an impatient gesture which seemed to encompass the bundle of cloth in Trevor’s arms and the ambulance still flashing a jaunty rhythm behind him. Trevor glanced down at the white… were those scrubs? He looked back up, taking Ray in. After his initial surprise faded, he could see the sniper had dressed up in a paramedic’s uniform he must have stolen along with the vehicle.

“We’re pretending to be EMTs, then?” Trevor asked, and Ray rolled his eyes, his expression saying duh clear as day. “Why?”

“You want to rescue Ryan or not?” Ray snapped, crossing his arms. Trevor straightened and glared right back.

“Of course!”

“Then get changed already. Dickhead.”

Trevor’s jaw clenched, and he shot Ray a glare. Then, just to be contradictory, Trevor smirked and pulled his shirt off right there on the curb. There was a flicker of interest in Ray’s eyes as Trevor sucked in his gut and flexed, his gaze lingering on Trevor’s abs before darting to the side abruptly. A light dusting of pink spread over his cheeks, and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. It… threw Trevor for a loop.

What… what was that? Had Ray just checked him out?

Trevor mentally shook himself. No, that couldn’t be. He was… probably just reminded of the last time Trevor pulled that stunt, undressing with him watching. Yes, that had to be it. Ray wanted to get Ryan back, which was the whole point of showing off in the first place - reminding Ray what he had to compete with.

Right. Ryan.

Trevor shrugged on the coat over the uniform, name tag reading S. Mitchell. He wondered where Ray had gotten the ambulance from. Trevor imagined most of them were on the way to the bank right now, considering how many cops must have gone down during the crossfire. He froze as the puzzle pieces rearranged themselves in his head. Of course. That was Ray’s plan.

“So how are we getting Ryan out once we’re in?” Trevor asked, kicking his clothes in the direction of the door. Ashley or whoever would stumble over them later and make sure to hide the evidence. “Should I grab us some guns?”

“We don’t know what state Ryan will be in once we get there.” Ray grimaced. “But there’s no way we can fight our way out. The cops were swarming all over the place last I saw.”

Trevor rounded the ambulance as Ray slid back into the driver’s seat, before the flashing lights attracted attention from the rest of the crew. They both knew they’d be stopped if the rest of them knew. Their plan - as much of one as they had anyhow - was too risky.

“You should remove-” Ray gestured to his face, eyes fixed on the road. Cars were slow to part for them, despite the emergency lights.

Trevor glanced into the rearview mirror. A white bandage had been taped over his temple. He vaguely recalled Caleb fussing over him, but hadn’t really paid the doctor much attention. Now he grimaced and pulled the tape off to inspect the damage.

“Looks like it stopped bleeding,” he muttered, pressing his hair down to cover the scab. Ray glanced at him, an inscrutable expression on his face. Trevor met his eyes with a narrow look. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ray shifted in his seat, ignoring a red light. Cars honked, but grumpily let them pass first. “Any other injuries I should be aware of? If you bleed through your uniform, our cover is blown.”

“Cover. Right.” Trevor shook his head, then winced. Bad idea. “...I might have a concussion,” he admitted, keeping his tone light.

“Fuck,” Ray muttered under his breath. He didn’t look Trevor’s way. “Alright. Can you pretend to be a paramedic, or do we need to switch so you can stay inside the ambulance?”

“I don’t know shit beyond basic first aid.” Trevor shrugged. His stomach turned at the thought of Ryan, bleeding out under his hands. Fuck, they should’ve kidnapped Caleb or Andy for this little adventure. What if they rescued Ryan from the cops, only to have him die on their way out?

“That should be enough to convince the pigs we’re legit,” Ray decided, taking a left. The bank was just a couple blocks further down, if Trevor recalled correctly. Ray seemed unbothered as they approached, Trevor thought, a stab of anger spearing through his gut. Didn’t he even care that Ryan might be dying out there?

There had been so much blood. Drip, drip, dripping onto the cobblestone in front of the bank as the minigun crashed to the ground without a sound.

“Why me?”

Ray hummed, tone lifting in question. Trevor clenched his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. His breath was coming in shorter, his chest tightening around his lungs.

“You could’ve grabbed Caleb or Andy- someone who knows what they’re doing, if- if Ryan’s-” Trevor paused, inhaling sharply. “Don’t you care?” he snapped.

“What that’s supposed to mean?”

Ray’s voice was toneless, fucking zen. As if nothing mattered. As if Ryan might not be dead already- Trevor couldn’t stand it, Ray and his bloody calm. He wanted to tear into him, to shake him, to make him eat his words- No wonder Ryan broke up with him.

“I beg your pardon,” Ray said, flat and icy cold. Trevor looked up from his lap, realizing he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

“You’re a cold fish,” Trevor retorted, because he couldn’t stand that emotionless mask. At the very least, could Ray not deign to look worried, for fuck’s sake. This was surely why Ryan was still such a mess even years after their break up. Trevor could see it clear as day, how being with Ray must have broken Ryan into pieces, bit by bit. “You couldn’t care less, if Ryan is bleeding out this very second. Do you?”

“Better than panicking. God, you’re useless.” Ray tsked in condescension. “What, first sign of adversity and you give up? Really? I don’t know what Ryan sees in you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Trevor snarled, his teeth grinding together as his jaw worked. “For me to give up, that is. But guess what? Even with me out of the picture, there’s no way Ryan would take you back. Ever.” He pulled his mouth into a humourless grin. “You wanna know why?”

“Oh yeah?” There was a mocking note to Ray’s voice as he drawled those words. “Do tell, please, I don’t think you’ve hit your bullshit quota for the day yet.”

“Because-” Trevor leaned over the middle console, his grin turning nasty. “-you fucked up. And you know it, don’t you? That’s why you left.”

“I’m not the one who broke his promise!” Ray hissed and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. The ambulance squealed as it was thrown around and Trevor was hurled forward, his seat belt cutting into his stomach and chest, forcing the air out of his lungs.

His head thrummed, the sudden stop not helping with his concussion.

Two car accidents in a day, Trevor thought wildly, on the brink of hysteria. One more and I’ll beat the record.

“We’re here,” Ray declared stiffly, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed on some point in the distance.

“And here I thought you were turning this family around,” Trevor quipped, adrenaline buzzing under his skin. “Ever hear of driving lessons? Methinks you could use some.”

“God, do you ever shut up?” Ray complained, prying his fingers from the wheel and rubbing his palms over his pants. A pause, then piercing brown eyes settled on Trevor’s. “Are you done? Can we focus on our mission now?”

“I’m not the one who nearly ruined our last one,” Trevor muttered under his breath, dragging his fingers through his hair, before remembering his fringe was hiding his temple wound. He smushed it back down, then cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

The cops were already walking up to meet them, letting them through the barricade they’d erected around the bank to keep curious citizens out. Trevor let Ray lead the way, still not quite sure what their plan was. One of the cops waved them over, a grim look on his face. He had an officer’s badge pinned to his chest and seemed to be directing the police force around the barricade.

“Medical is supposed to converge on the North-East end,” he stated as they walked up to him. His eyes glinted in suspicion, and Trevor felt his stomach drop, but Ray interjected smoothly.

“We’re here for the prisoner’s transport. Chief’s orders.”

The officer crossed his arms and scowled. “That’s an ambulance, not a prison transport.”

“Exactly,” Ray agreed, appearing nonchalant. Trevor had to admit, however grudgingly, that his damned calm worked in their favour there. “From what I understood they’re worried about an ambush. We’re supposed to smuggle him out under the radar.”

“Chief’s orders you say?” He sounded skeptical.

“That’s right.” Ray shrugged. “You can check while we load him up.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the hurry?”

“I would prefer not to be a sitting duck here when they come for him, if it’s all the same to you, Officer,” Trevor drawled. His concern for Ryan bled into his voice, kindling a different kind of anxiety in the cops within earshot.

“You’re right, you’re right. The sooner we get out of here…” The cop glanced around, at the curious civilians sneaking closer, phones ready to get a decent shot of the going ons, now that the Fakes had left the vicinity and the shooting died down. He wavered for a heartbeat, two, then came to a decision. “Pull the ambulance in, we don’t want anyone to see this.”

“Sure,” Ray said, clapping Trevor’s shoulder. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

Trevor waved him off, turning back to the officer. “Where’s he being held?”

The cop glanced between him and Ray’s back, then nodded. “This way.”

He led Trevor past the bustling crowd of cops, bagging corpses and moving the injured up to where three ambulances stood side by side. Others were guarding the perimeter or taking photos of the scene, bagging evidence. Trevor saw Ryan’s minigun from the corner of his eyes and forced himself not to react. Ryan would whine about losing his favourite toy, but first he needed to survive this to be able to whine. Getting Ryan out took priority. Besides, there was no way the cops would hand a gatling gun to two EMTs.

They kept Ryan in a small office to the side, not far from the entrance. Two heavily armoured SWAT officers stood guard at the door, stiffening as they approached. The cop flashed his badge at them.

“I got some EMTs for the prisoner here. They’re supposed to take him up to penitentiary.”

“Straight to the high security medical ward,” Trevor agreed, clasping his hands behind his back and flashing a grin at the SWAT guys. “Chief wants him out of the way quick as possible.”

The SWAT officers exchanged a skeptical look before turning to the cop. “You’ve confirmed this with headquarters?”

“Just about to.” The cop waved them off impatiently. “Wanted to deliver Mitchell here first. Get a headstart on things.”

Trevor watched the SWAT officers warily as they hesitated, weapons held at the ready. Then one nodded and stepped aside, opening the door for Trevor. The room beyond was dark, shutters drawn across the single window. Then the lights are flipped on, neon bright and blinding. Trevor blinked the colours out of his eyes before focussing on the chair in the middle of the room. A familiar, leather-clad figure is sitting on it, hands cuffed to the chair behind his back.

Ryan lifted his head, and Trevor’s heart stopped.

His face paint was smeared, mask nowhere to be seen. Dried trickles of blood cut through the black and white makeup, leaving his face a mess. Blue eyes pierced through him, pinning him in place, and Trevor swallowed the words of concern bubbling up in his throat. Black-dyed hair hang in loose strands about his face, giving Ryan a wild, deranged look.

Alive. He was alive.

“Injuries?” he heard himself ask, his voice steady as he locked eyes with Ryan. He could see the relief flicker through them before Ryan schooled his face into a glare. The snap of latex gloves distracted both of them, as Trevor pulled on the medical gloves on autopilot. The SWAT officer shrugged.

“Gunshot to the leg, I think. No one checked yet.”

The implication - because the Vagabond was scum, because he’d gunned down their own men, because many wished him to die but couldn’t be arsed to do something about it - hung in the air between them. Trevor bit down his sharp retort, kneeling down next to the chair to check Ryan’s leg.

“We’re going to have to cut the pant leg off,” he murmured, following the dried blood back to its origin. It was hard to see on the black cloth. Keeping his tone light, he directed his next question towards Ryan. “Anything else we should know about, Mr. Vagabond?”

“Yes.” Ryan bared his teeth in a grin, straining against his bonds. The suddenness of the move made Trevor flinch back. “Go to hell,” Ryan snarled.

The SWAT guys had their guns trained on Ryan the moment he twitched, taking no chances. Trevor scowled at him, knowing he had to keep up the act but not appreciating it in the slightest.

“Quite unhelpful, Mr. Vagabond,” he tutted, pushing him to sit back and running his hands over his arms and chest in as professional manner as possible. There was a wound near his left shoulder that made Ryan hiss as Trevor trailed a finger along it, but otherwise his vest seemed to have protected him.

“I can’t see anything delaying transport,” Trevor reported to the SWAT officer, standing back up and pulling off his latex gloves. He glanced over his shoulder. “Do we have the green light yet?”

The SWAT officer shrugged, thrusting his chin into the direction of the door, indicating for Trevor to leave the room. Trevor left without a backward glance, no matter how much he wanted to. But Ryan was alive, and they had a plan to get him out. That had to suffice.

The cop was pacing further down the hallway, gesticulating rudely at his phone as he listened to the other end.

“-know thing’s are a mess, I just need to know if the Chief’s approved the prisoner’s transport-” The cop grit his teeth as the voice on the other end talked, too low for Trevor to catch. “Look, I’ve got the EMTs and the ambulance here, they’ve got orders- then ask one of the senior detectives! The Chief’s secretary! Find the papers, I don’t care…!”

Ray walked up just as the cop exclaimed, “Finally!” and ended the call. He followed the cop back to them, giving Trevor a questioning look. Trevor let his mouth quirk into a quick smile, before smoothing his expression out again.

“Can’t get a hold of the Chief, she’s busy, but Captain Gibson gave the go ahead. Paperwork’s not done yet, but they want him up in Penitentiary as fast as possible.”

Blaine was one of Burnie’s old contacts on the force, Trevor mused. He must assume this was a break-out attempt, or at least sounded good enough to defend his approval later. He might even create them a fake paper trail making it seem like the Chief ordered the transport. Nice.

“Alright. We’ll join as escort,” one of the SWAT guys decided, indicating himself and his fellow teammate. Trevor’s heart jumped. Fuck. He should’ve brought a gun, shit.

“That’s not necessary,” Ray blurted out, shooting Trevor a panicked look. At least it seemed panicked to Trevor, who might be projecting a little. But when Ray didn’t continue, he knew the other didn’t have a good idea. The guards looked at them, attention starting to turn into suspicion.

They needed an excuse. A good one… They were an ambulance, what could they use…?

“We’ve got... sedatives! He won’t be a problem once he’s inside the transport,” Trevor offered, smoothing down his cloak and giving the guard a smile. “Though we’d appreciate the help in securing the prisoner on the way there. Handcuffs, too. Just to be sure, you understand.”

That seemed to put them at ease.

“Of course,” the SWAT officer said, slinging his AR over his shoulder and nodding to his companion. “Let’s get the hostile. Where are you parked?”

The last was directed at Ray, who had returned to radiating calm. “Just off to the side by the entrance. Barricade’s been moved to give us an easy way out.”

Things went smooth after that. Ryan put on a show of struggling against the SWAT guys grabbing him by the arms, hands cuffed behind his back and limping on his shot leg. By the time they reached the ambulance it started bleeding again. With guns pointed at Ryan, they unlocked the cuffs and pushed him down on the gurney before handcuffing both wrists and ankles to either side.

And then they watched and waited for them to sedate the prisoner. Fuck.

Trevor hadn’t thought that far. He’d never given anyone a syringe, and he wasn’t sure Ray knew how to, either-

Except Ray was already rolling up Ryan’s sleeve, cleaning the skin inside his elbow with an antibacterial wipe and pulling over an infusion. It was labeled ‘NaCl solution’, Trevor saw and relaxed. Saline, to treat for blood loss. Good idea. Ray worked quick and efficient, calling out to their SWAT escort, “Hold him down, please.” before inserting the needle.

“He should be out in less than a minute,” Ray said dispassionately while Ryan struggled against the cops. Trevor checked his wristwatch, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and squeezing at the half-minute mark. His struggles turned sluggish, before subsiding entirely.

After another moment to make sure he wasn’t faking it, the SWAT guys left the ambulance and Ray went back up front, Trevor staying behind with Ryan to monitor his vitals. The moment the doors all closed and the ambulance pulled forward, Ryan’s eyes snapped open, hand flailing wildly, looking for Trevor-

Trevor grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Hey, Rye.” His smile wavered, water gathering in the corners of his eyes. Trevor blinked. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Trevor,” Ryan croaked, squeezing his hand in turn. That broke the dam.

“I thought- I thought I’d lost you,” Trevor admitted, water pouring down his cheeks. “I- I saw you fall.”

“Shhh. I’m fine. I’m fine, my dear. I’m here. You got me.” Ryan laughed, a rough and bewildered sound. “You came. You saved me, my love.”

“I… yeah.” Trevor wiped his sleeve over his eyes. He almost hadn’t. If it hadn’t been for Ray-

Ray was oddly quiet. When Trevor looked up, he saw the sniper watching them in the rearview, conflicted emotions flashing over his face. Trevor swallowed and turned back to Ryan. He had to pick the locks of four handcuffs, and make sure Ryan’s leg was okay. It still bled sluggishly.

Priorities.

He trailed off, the words sticking in his throat. A week to contemplate, to think over how to bring this up, and still he was no closer to finding the words.

At this rate, he’d just stare silently at Ray, too, once he tracked him down.

Ryan felt conflicted. On the one hand was the shadow of their broken relationship, and frustration at Ray’s presumption in returning. To think, after all he’d done, Ryan would drop everything to be with him. To assume he was still just as broken, as co-dependant as he’d been three years ago. That Ryan would welcome him back with open arms after over two years of no word, no sign, no nothing.

On the other, it was Ray who had come after him, who had come to his rescue. Who had gone to Trevor, despite his own conflicted feelings he must have on him because Ryan knew Ray, knew how terrible he was at emotions. They were similar at that. In hindsight, that was probably why their relationship kept on failing. It wasn’t until Trevor put his foot down, early on in theirs, that Ryan started to learn to communicate his wants and needs.

Ryan knew the crew would come for him. They always did.

Still, he was resigned to wait until they regrouped and figured out a plan, waited for the heat to down a little. He didn’t expect them to stroll up into the middle of the entire LSPD gathered at the bank and demand they hand him over. He’d been shock when Trevor walked in, even more when he heard Ray talk with his guards.

Less shocked at Ray’s skill with setting needles, considering his past. He’d played along, having overheard the plan, struggled to make it seem real. He’d never felt so safe surrounded by hostiles.

Ryan cleared his throat and looked up at Geoff. No matter his torn feelings regarding his and Ray’s… relationship, he owed him a thank you at the very least. Possibly a chance to talk about things, even. Maybe. He’d been a little… harsh, brushing him off when he came by the last time. Too confused, too hurt, not ready to talk, much less listen.

“I was wondering if you know where Ray is. I wanted… I need to talk to him.”

Something flashed over Geoff’s face, there and gone again. Ryan stiffened, a foreboding feeling dropping in his gut.

“Ah.” Geoff scratched at his mustache, avoiding Ryan’s eyes by mustering an interesting stain on his desk. “I’m, ah, I’m afraid he’s out of town again. He wanted to leave straight after heist was over.”

The dread spread from his gut to his chest, his skin prickling with the feeling.

“Oh.” Ryan swallowed and averted his gaze as well. He should have known.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Geoff said, but his voice sounded distant. Ryan shrugged off his hand, not even noticing when it landed on his shoulder or Geoff walking up next to him. Abruptly, he shoved back his chair and stood up.

“It doesn’t matter.” It surprised him how steady his voice came out. Cold, almost. From shock, he mused, mind terrifyingly blank.

“Ryan-”

“No,” he interrupted before Geoff could… whatever he was going to say. He didn’t want reassurance, or. Or pity. “It’s fine, Geoff.”

It wasn’t, and they both knew it. But that wasn’t anything new- life wasn’t fair, and things with Ray never seemed to work out. Ryan wasn’t sure why he even wanted to try. It never led to anything good. Why should this time be different, after everything?

“It’s fine,” he repeated quietly to himself as he walked out of the office, past the couch where Gavin had pinned Michael down, past a concerned looking Jeremy waiting at the elevator. Took the stairs because he needed to move, to not think.

Nothing good ever came from trying.

***

Trevor was fucking pissed. Of all the things Ray had pulled, this was the one that crossed the line. Stalk him, okay. Shoot at him, sure, that happened, no big deal. Leave without a word, breaking Ryan’s heart all over again? Fucking nuh uh. Not on Trevor’s watch. He’d hunt the asshole down and force him to come back, apologize, do something-

The keypad lit up green as Trevor crossed the right wires. Without pause he pushed up from his crouch and opened the door to the hotel room.

Inside it was dark, light filtering in through drawn shutters. An open door to the left lead into a bathroom, towels strewn over the floor. No hotel staff had been by to clean due to the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on the door. The room was stifling hot, the A/C turned off despite the oppressive summer heat. From the entrance, he could make out a large flat screen TV on the wall, a small sofa several feet in front of it. Empty takeaway boxes of Chinese food and pizza cluttered up the low couch table along open cans of soda and energy drinks.

The first sign something was off was the black case peeking out from under said table. It looked like something a musician might carry their instrument in, a trumpet or violin, maybe. Trevor would know, he played both. But no, he knew better: this was where Ray kept his sniper rifle.

Why would Ray leave his rifle behind?

The tension in his shoulders shifted, his fingers clenching around the hilt of his knife, no longer trembling in anger. His thoughts raced ahead, worst case scenario after worst case scenario flashing through his mind. Was Ray followed on his way home? Kidnapped, or worse? There were no signs of forced entry, but he hadn’t contacted anyone on the crew for over a week, including Gavin who usually knew what Ray was up to. Everyone just assumed he’d left.

Were there clues here about Ray’s whereabouts in here? Trevor couldn’t imagine him leaving his prized and customized sniper behind willingly, so that was one. The mess might be another, he didn’t know how tidy Ray usually was. But there was one place left to check, and Trevor pressed himself flat against the wall of the corner. He doubted any enemies still remained in the hotel room, not unless this was a recent development, but one could never be too careful.

Trevor took a deep breath, drawing his shoulders tight and holding his knife at the ready as he turned in one swift move, eyes flitting over the window, the night stand in the corner, the bed, the half-packed trunk next to the bed-

-and stopped in his tracks, gaze shooting back to the bed.

The blankets were piled up high on one side, nearly hiding the body under them from view except for a small hole in the cocoon, leaving Ray’s face free. Would have missed it completely, hadn’t the blankets shifted at Trevor’s sudden appearance, a weak wriggle and then Ray was lifting his head, meeting Trevor’s eyes.

“Ry’n?” Ray mumbled, squinting up at Trevor. His eyes were glassy, his face red and glistening with sweat.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just me,” Trevor chirped, defaulting to jokes in the face of shock. He blinked, then frowned down at Ray, reaching out to press the back of his free hand against Ray’s forehead. The other vanished the knife back into its sheath. No sense in scaring Ray in his apparent delirium.

“‘M s’ry,” Ray slurred, hand flopping onto the blanket in an attempt to reach for Trevor. Or maybe push his hand away, who knew, really? “‘M s’ry. Din’ m’n t’.”

“If you’re apologizing for shooting at me, I think we’re even, personally,” Trevor said, keeping his voice light even as worry crept up his spine like a chill. Fuck, Ray was burning up. Fever, obviously, but from catching a bug or an infection from an untreated wound? It only occurred to Trevor now that neither Andy nor Caleb had checked the sniper over, what with their shenanigans rescuing Ryan from the cops.

“Wha’?” Ray’s forehead furrowed, staring up at Trevor blearily.

“I hope you didn’t take drugs again because if this is withdrawal, Ryan will be really disappointed. He wanted to come talk to you, you know, but none of us knew where you went off to,” Trevor rambled, even as he pulled out his phone. He typed a quick text into a group chat with Jeremy and Matt, before turning back to Ray. “I don’t really know much about withdrawal symptoms, personally, but I’ve heard there’s lots of sweating involved, and you, sweet cheeks, are very, very sweaty right now.”

“M’wh’ff.” And with that muffled noise, Ray buried his face in his pillow, pulling the blankets tight over his head. A moment of shuffling, and the cocoon stilled again, not so much as a dark hair peeking out of the mountain of blankets. Trevor blinked, staring at the bed, nonplussed.

“Alright then,” he told the room at large, turning to survey the mess. One door of the closet stood open, mostly empty already. Looked like Ray had intended to leave, before the fever hit. Trevor frowned and checked his phone, shooting off another text. Then he checked out the bathroom and found the medicine cabinet empty except for an open bottle of tylenol, pills spilled all over the cupboard.

He returned to the bed with a glass of water, sitting down on the edge. Ray kept his face buried in his pillow, but shifted to make room.

“Drink,” Trevor ordered, nudging the blankets where he guessed Ray’s shoulder was. “You need to stay hydrated, what with how much you’re sweating. Have you eaten at all these last few days?”

Ray’s response was muffled, but sounded distinctly like a negative. Trevor hummed and poked Ray again, until the smaller man peeled back the outer layer of blanket to glare at him.

“Drink,” Trevor cajoled, keeping his tone light and cheerful. Ray sat up gingerly, swaying until Trevor reached out to steady him.

“N’foo’,” he pressed out between clenched teeth, nose scrunched up. Trevor mustered him, noting the pale edges around the fever-red skin. He glanced over his shoulders at the empty takeout containers and drew his conclusions.

“No food,” he agreed, tipping the cup against Ray’s dry lips. “Just water.”

After a careful sip, Ray pressed the cool glass to his flushed cheek, closing his eyes with a relieved sigh. His hair stuck up in all directions where it wasn’t plastered to his head. Stomach twisting, Trevor wondered how long he’d been taking care of himself. It was clear Ray was used to it, used to being alone. Still. As little as Trevor liked it, Ray was part of their crew, had allies, friends in the city. People who would take care of him.

“Wh’t now?” Ray rasped, blinking his eyes open and meeting Trevor’s gaze.

“Well, first we’re gonna get you out of here, sugar, before you melt.”

“Dun’ have an’where t’ go.” Ray grimaced, dropping his gaze. He took another sip of water, fingers tracing through the condensation on the outside. Trevor bit his lip, because… well. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

Ray needed the help, clearly. He’d barely been taking care of himself, and his fever seemed rather high. Jeremy’s apartment was too small, and he wouldn’t trust Matt to take care of a cactus, much less a human being. If he foisted Ray off on Gavin, who knew what would happen. Gavin was terrible when it came to sickness, or recognizing when he himself was falling ill.

So Trevor was at something of an impasse.

He could always drop Ray off in the penthouse, people were constantly passing through there, but… no, if it was contagious, everyone would catch it within the week, and besides, no one would feel responsible for Ray’s care. He might just as well stay here in that case.

And… well. Ryan wanted to talk with Ray, before he up and left. What better way to ensure that happened then stash Ray in their apartment, keep an eye on him while he recovered?

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” was all he said, though. Ray shot him a narrow-eyed look, but it lost a lot of its bite with the red rim and lack of glasses. A double-tap knock on the door interrupted before things could get awkward, and Trevor smirked down at Ray. “Just sit tight, I’ve got this. There’s a good boy.”

He jumped up and sauntered off, blithely ignoring Ray’s grumbled protest. Fingering the handle of his knife, he knocked his knuckles against the door, calling a chipper, “Who’s there?”

“Room service,” came Jeremy’s dry reply, followed by a distinctive “shut up” from Michael and chuckling. Trevor opened the door and raised both brows at them.

“I brought back-up,” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes and hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Michael and Jack.

The bandages were gone, but Michael still walked with a visible limp, and if Gavin knew where he was, he’d probably be forced to sit still and watch as the others worked. Probably itching to do something, anything after the week of enduring the crew’s pampering. Ryan was in rather a similar state, when not brooding over Ray. Trevor decided not to bring it up.

“Good.” Trevor gave them a quicksilver smile and stood aside. “Come on in, boys. Let’s get this party started.”

Between the four of them they had Ray bundled up in Jeremy’s purple car monstrosity and his things packed in the trunk in less than half an hour. Jack and Michael knew Ray well enough to find all his hidden weapon stashes, while Jeremy took out the trash and Trevor packed his trunk under Ray’s unfocused attention.

To Trevor’s relief they didn’t find any drugs or suspicious substances, only weaponry, ammunition and a lightly armoured vest.

“Where to?” Jack asked, jovial tone covering the concerned undercurrents. He was the last in the car, having checked Ray out at the front desk.

“My place,” Trevor answered, ignoring the surprised stares from the others to watch Ray’s befuddled expression as he blinked. “We’ve got the space.”

“You sure?” Michael asked, from Ray’s other side on the backseat. He sounded skeptical, which, rude.

“Of course.” Trevor arched his brows and looked up at Michael. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeremy sighed, starting the car, but the look he shot Trevor via rearview mirror promised they would have words later. Trevor shrugged and settled back, keeping half an eye on Ray bundled up in two fluffy blankets. He kept swaying with the sudden turns of Jeremy’s driving, eyes slipping shut before blinking open at a particularly sudden brake.

Five minutes out, Ray’s head slid to lay on Trevor’s shoulder. Trevor didn’t shake him off, and Michael didn’t say anything, watching him with narrowed eyes.

***

Ray woke to sunshine scattering across velvet sheets. Humming, he stretched, a pleasant soreness to his muscles. He dropped his arm, fingers coming to rest on warm skin, and Ray smiled to himself, tracing familiar muscles and scars. A chuckle made the chest under his hand vibrate, and Ray opened one eye lazily, half-lidded.

“Awake?” Ryan asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. He turned towards Ray, hand trailing along Ray’s arm and up his neck to cup his cheek. Ray nuzzled into his palm, pressing a smiling kiss to the skin.

“Mhm,” Ray agreed, closing his eyes again and enjoying the warm sunshine on his naked skin, curling his arm around Ryan’s waist and pulling him closer. He missed this.

Lips ghosted over his temple, stubble scratching over his cheek as fingers slipped into his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. Ray hummed, burying his face against Ryan’s shoulder, ignoring his amused chuckles in favour of soaking in the skin contact.

“Been too long,” he murmured, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, drowsiness messing with his brain-to-mouth filter. Ray considered doing something about it, then shrugged mentally and went all in. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Ryan admitted, and Ray opened his eyes, leaning back to stare into deep blue. Ryan’s eyes had always been full of emotions he couldn’t put words to. Sometimes, Ray wasn’t sure even he could read them right, despite years of practice. He leaned in for a kiss, unwilling to decipher Ryan’s feelings right then, too scared of what he might find. Ryan’s lips were softer than he remembered, Ray thought with a twinge, burying his face against Ryan’s chest.

Arms wrapped around him, holding him close. “How’s the clinic treating you?”

Ryan’s voice was a quiet whisper, just a breath over his ear. A prickle of anxiety crawled down Ray’s spine, and he pressed closer in the faint hope Ryan wouldn’t be able to tell the truth, as long as he didn’t see his face.

“‘Bout as well as expected, I guess.” Ray kept his tone dry, tried turning it into a joke even as his gut twisted in on itself. “I’m not… it takes time. But… my therapist is confident.”

“Take as long as you need,” Ryan murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his nape. “I can wait. You know I’ll wait for you.”

“Promise?” Ray covered Ryan’s arms with his own, hating how small his voice sounded, but desperate for the reassurance nonetheless.

“I promise.” Ryan chuckled, rubbing his nose along Ray’s cheek. “For however long it takes.”

They lay there like that for a long time, a familiar tangle of limbs, exchanging the occasional kiss in between bouts of companionable silence. Relaxed in the knowledge of having the rest of the day just to themselves, to do with as they wish. A rare luxury of late, to spend time together, just being. Ray had been gone longer than he wished, but couldn’t justify returning earlier. Not with things as they were.

Ray grumbled a protest when Ryan finally drew back, disentangling long enough to find a pair of pants to slip on.

“Any wishes for breakfast, dear?” Ryan asked, and Ray flopped over to lay on his back, stretching languidly. He caught Ryan’s appreciative gaze and smirked.

“Can think of a thing or two,” he drawled and winked, even as Ryan huffed in amusement and shook his head. He leaned down, kissing Ray’s forehead and dodging his grab.

“Later, dear. We’ve got all week.”

The words sunk like a stone in his stomach, but Ray forced himself to smile until Ryan left their shared bedroom. Then it dropped and Ray exhaled sharply. He had some pills left, hidden in a small case formerly for contact lenses. Not that he’d used them in years, preferring glasses, but it was a good hiding spot. Ray heaved himself up, grabbing his bathroom kit from his bag.

In front of the mirror, he hesitated, guilt surging up. What he needed, he thought, was something to calm his nerves. His fingers lingered over the pill case, before he pushed it into the back of the kit. They always left him feeling too jittery. No, what he really needed was a nice, calming smoke, but then Ryan would be able to tell by the smell.

He didn’t want to tell Ryan. Things were going so well, ever since he returned. Better than they’ve been in a long time. Ray liked this, with Ryan content and relaxed and free of the heavy burden he always seemed to carry. The burden to which Ray just kept adding, which was lifted since he had left.

It was selfish, maybe, but Ray wanted to cling to this moment of peace a little longer.

***

Ryan stood frozen in the hallway, mask still dangling from his fingers as he surveyed the living room. The windows were closed, caging the heat of an early Los Santos fall inside. The woven blanket Trevor had thrown over the back of the couch was missing, the one he and Trevor would huddle under together during the winter to watch trashy movies. And maybe most damningly of all, there was a person sleeping on their couch, decked out in blankets.

“Trevor?” Ryan called, and the cluttering in the kitchen stopped, a hush falling over their apartment. Trevor poked his head out of the kitchen door, his Kiss the Cook apron tied around his neck.

“Hi, honey! Didn’t hear you coming in.”

Ryan shot him an unimpressed look and crossed his arms. He couldn’t help but notice how Trevor remained hovering in the kitchen instead of coming closer.

“And I didn’t realize we were having guests.” He tilted his head in the direction of the couch and arched a brow in clear demand.

 “Ah, yes. That.” Trevor waved him off, as if it were unimportant. But Ryan knew his boyfriend, saw the tension in the way he held himself, in the way he kept the distance between them. As if he expected Ryan to disagree with him. Ryan narrowed his eyes.

“What did you do?” The words came out sharper than he intended, but the undertone of fond exasperation softened them a little.

“You see, I went off looking for some clues, because it was important to you and all, and I’m a good boyfriend so obviously I broke into the hotel-”

Ryan held up a hand, interrupting Trevor’s vague rambling. “What hotel?” Then he frowned. He had no idea what Trevor was even talking about. “What clues?”

“Where Ray went off to, of course!” Trevor pasted on a bright smile, barely covering his nerves. Clearly he knew Ryan wouldn’t appreciate his meddling, but had gone ahead and done so anyway. “Since you wanted to talk to him. Just trying to be helpful and all.”

“Uh huh.” Ryan suppressed the eye roll, giving Trevor another pointed look. “And that has to do with our… ‘guest’...?”

But even as he spoke, the gears in his brain ground to a halt. There were only so many people it could be, if Trevor tried to hunt down Ray and force him to return so Ryan could talk with him. Trevor watched him closely, the anxiety clear in the way his hands fluttered through the air, but Ryan couldn’t hear what he was saying past the rush of blood through his ears. He took a step forward and to the side, eyes glued to the blanket-covered shape on the couch, and-

Brown locks poked out on the far side, where Ray’s head lay on the armrest. His eyes were closed, his face flushed with the blankets drawn up all the way to his nose. He was sleeping.

“What-” Ryan rasped, clearing his throat when the words got stuck. He couldn’t look away from the sight in front of him. He hadn’t seen Ray this vulnerable since... “Why…”

“He’s got a fever,” Trevor explained, voice quiet and subdued. He stepped up next to him, hesitating but stopping short of touching Ryan. “I don’t know if he got sick or if it’s withdrawal or something else, but-”

At those words, Ryan tore his gaze away from his ex to stare at his boyfriend with wide eyes, stomach turning at the thought. Trevor returned his look with a sheepish one of his own.

“Andy checked him over, it’s not an inflammation from untreated wounds, so, uh…” He shrugged and his mouth twitched into a tentative grin. “Surprise?”

Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, heart jackhammering in his chest. Ray was sleeping on his couch, their couch. Looking like he belonged. Where he used to belong. He counted the seconds down from twenty and felt no more calm for it.

“And he’s here because…?”

A pause, and Ryan opened his eyes to watch Trevor. His expression softened, and gentle, careful, he reached out to squeeze Ryan’s shoulder.

“I thought you might still want to, you know, talk to him. Since he didn’t run off. Besides, he needed somewhere to stay.” Trevor dropped his hand from Ryan’s shoulder when he didn’t react, concern flitting over his face before being tucked behind a mask of careless cheer. “I’m cooking dinner, I thought we might stay in, you know, keep an eye on him-”

Ryan flinched back, and Trevor trailed off, eyeing him worriedly. 

“I- I don’t-” Ryan looked at Ray, his face relaxed and familiar in his sleep. He felt a pang in his chest, remembering the last time he’d seen him like this - and remembering what followed. “I can’t-” He turned helplessly to Trevor, his throat closing off. “Why?”

“He saved you,” Trevor offered softly. “I… He came up with the ambulance trick. And he didn’t have to pick me to help, not after what I said to him, but he did.”

“Said to him?” Ryan repeated distractedly. He stepped closer to the couch, hovering, uncertain. He wanted to reach out, smooth those sweaty locks back, tuck the blanket in around Ray’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure he was allowed (or if he could stop, once he started).

“We, uh, may have had an altercation. Or two.” Ryan glanced over his shoulder to see Trevor rocking on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back and staring up at the ceiling in a bid to avoid eye contact. “I may have, ah, neglected. To mention.” His gaze dropped from the ceiling and he shot Ryan a sheepish look. “Didn’t mean to worry you and all, you know.”

“Right,” Ryan agreed, arching both of his brows in a show of skepticism. He knew Trevor was sneaky, but he hadn’t expected him to confront Ray on his behalf. Should have, maybe, but he’d been distracted by his own complicated feelings. He glanced back down at Ray and had to look away. “You said- dinner?”

“Mhm,” Trevor hummed agreeably, watching him with a knowing look. “Almost done. You want to set the table?”

“Yeah.” Ryan sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the tie. He pulled it out, twisting it between his fingers. “Yeah, I- Trevor?”

“Yes, honey?”

Ryan caught his eyes and put every ounce of sincerity he could muster into his voice. “Thank you.”

Trevor’s playful expression softened. “You love him,” he stated simply.

Ryan’s breath caught in his throat, and he reached out for Trevor, desperate to prove him wrong, but knowing with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t because- because it was true. He still did, even after everything. It was half the reason he was so twisted up over Ray’s sudden reappearance.

“Trevor, I-”

“Shh,” Trevor hushed him, pulling him in by his outstretched hand and laying a finger across his lips. The other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against Trevor. “I know. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Ryan retorted, swallowing around the stone lodged in his throat. “It’s not- it’s not fair to you. It never was.”

Trevor’s gaze flickered side to side, focussing on each of Ryan’s eyes in turn. Ryan stared back, helplessly, because none of this had ever been fair to Trevor, and he wasn’t sure why Trevor still stuck with him anyway. What they had felt so precious, despite its less than auspicious beginnings, and Ryan was afraid to lose it. To lose Trevor.

“Tell me, baby,” Trevor was saying, and Ryan focussed all his attentions on him. “Tell me honestly. Do your feelings for Ray lessen your love for me in any way?”

“I…” Ryan trailed off, brow furrowing. He took a deep breath and searched his feelings, because Trevor deserved nothing but the truth, even if it hurt. Even if it meant losing this. Trevor was the best thing to happen to him in years, had given him so much, Ryan couldn’t do any less. And to his surprise, he realized- “No. No, it doesn’t.”

Trevor smiled down at him, soft and gentle and so much more than Ryan deserved. His lips twitched, probably amused by the note of amazement in Ryan’s voice, or perhaps he could read the relieved disbelief on his face.

Ryan leaned in and the smile turned into a grin under his mouth. Ryan nipped at Trevor’s lower lip in preemptive retaliation and ignored the vibrations from Trevor’s chuckles against his chest.

***

“Awake?” Trevor asked as he passed by the couch. Ray had been sleeping fitfully the last couple days, but the fever broke on the third one. It left him much more lucid in between, at least. Now he blinked up at Trevor, who held out his glasses for him. “Think you can stomach some food?”

“Gonna cook for me?” Ray shot him a crooked grin. Trevor shrugged.

“Sure. How do you feel about chicken broth?”

“Sounds good.” Ray hesitated, and Trevor hovered a moment longer by the couch, but Ray closed his mouth without adding anything. With another shrug Trevor moved on to the kitchen.

Soup was easy enough to make, and Trevor sliced in some carrots to go with the noodles and broth. He remembered his gran cooking this for him when he was sick, and it felt faintly ironic to be doing the same now for Ray, considering circumstances.

Ray murmured a quiet thanks when Trevor handed him the bowl, sitting up and readjusting the blankets around his shoulders. Trevor sat down next to him, ignoring the furtive sideway glances and pulled out his tablet to catch up on business while Ray ate.

Matt was playfully demanding proof of life from him, or alternately offering to help him hide the bodies. Trevor snorted, sending him a quick harhar before deciding to overlook the teasing and mockery. This was why he didn’t tell anyone about the little power plays between him and Ray, they’d never stop suspecting they were going to kill each other. He was already getting annoyed by the baseless implications, he didn’t need to give them even more fodder.

Jeremy was more pragmatic about the whole thing, slipping him a few pieces of crew gossip and then pointedly not answering before he got an update on how they - Trevor, Ray and Ryan - were doing. How diabolically Slytherin.

Trevor replied to the serious inquiries next and blithely skipped Michael and Jack’s pointed messages, instead answering Gavin’s very roundabout, rambling text with an equally insipid bit of prose that revealed nothing. Ryan was out running errands for the crew, Geoff having given in to the inevitable and allowing Ryan an outlet for his nervous energy since his home had been co-opted into a sickroom.

Only when Ray handed him the empty bowl did Trevor set his tablet down. Ray sank back down, his legs pressed to Trevor’s back where he sat, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Trevor eyed him and waited expectantly, knowing Ray still had something to say and wondering if now was the time.

“Why?” Ray asked, staring straight up at the ceiling and not meeting Trevor’s eyes. “After everything…” He trailed off, mouth twisting into a grimace. Finally, his gaze dropped and caught Trevor’s. “You hated me the minute we met.”

“The feeling was mutual, I’m sure,” Trevor demurred. He turned away from that burning stare, setting the empty bowl down on the table and fussing with the spoon. “I don’t know why you broke up, but… Ryan’s ready to talk, now.”

An exaggeration. Ryan might never be ready, but he was stubborn. Now that he’d decided to get his answers, nothing could stop him- not that Trevor would. He wanted Ryan to get closure more than anyone else, probably.

A harsh sound drew his attention back to Ray. If he felt charitable, Trevor might call it a laugh.

“We didn’t.” The words were a soft rasp, easily swallowed if there were just a little more noise in the quiet apartment. At Trevor’s questioning look, Ray closed his eyes and clarified, “Break up. We never did.”

“Last I checked, ghosting is still considered a break-up, if quite rude,” Trevor quipped, though the veneer of cheer was thinly pasted on.

Ray shot him a look as if to call him on it, but didn’t. Instead, he replied sharply, “Ryan promised to wait.”

“Three years is a long time. I don’t know what you expected.” Trevor saw Ray’s eyes shutter, felt the mask fall into place on his own face. “Especially since you couldn’t be bothered to call, or anything.”

“Two,” Ray corrected, but he was already deflating, the words not nearly as sharp as intended. “Two years.”

Trevor levelled him with the unimpressed look that deserved, because honestly.

“You’re right, that makes such a big difference,” he drawled, shaking his head as he stood up, gathering the dirty dishes and used tissues. He let Ray stew in his thoughts while he gathered his own, busying himself in the kitchen. There was only so much to clean up, though, after days staying at home and looking after Ray… and his curiosity overwhelmed his annoyance faster than it used to. Seeing the man at his most vulnerable made it hard to stay angry at him on another’s behalf.

“Why did you leave in the first place?” Trevor asked, keeping his tone mild and nonchalant as he replaced the empty tissue box with a new one. He didn’t look at the couch or its occupant. “And why did you come back now, years later, instead of… oh, anytime before?”

Ray dropped his gaze to his lap, fidgeting with his blanket.

“It was… easier,” he said finally, hesitantly. “To stay away. Things… things were always better, after I returned. Distance… distance helped.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Trevor offered in a light tone, mustering Ray intently. Watched him grimace as the barb hit home.

“I didn’t want to fight,” Ray admitted, pulling at a loose seam. “But somehow, that’s all we seemed to do.”

Trevor hummed noncommittally. “Do you know why?” A pause, watching as Ray’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “In hindsight?”

A soft exhale, not quite a sigh. Ray twisted the blanket between his hands, shoulders coming up defensively. Trevor wondered if he’d get a honest answer, or just another blasé brush-off. Ray seemed fond of dismissing any heavy or emotional topic off-hand, redirecting the conversation with a joke or plain refusal to talk about it. And this… this was deep, personal. The root of the problems between Ray and Ryan, and for the first time Trevor realized that Ryan wasn’t the only one still hurting.

“Yeah.” The word escaped Ray’s lips on a soft exhale. Then he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I think… I think I do. In hindsight.”

Trevor arched a brow, but didn’t push, just waited. To see if Ray had anything else to add.

After several endless seconds, Ray carded a hand through his rumpled hair and sighed.

“There was… a lot of little things. That annoyed us about each other. That… that never quite went away, even as we got used to it. Quirks, habits,...” Ray trailed off, grimacing.

“Did you talk about it?” Trevor tried to keep his tone even, non-judgemental. Ray flicked him a quick glance, something between surprise and resignation flickering over his face.

“...no.” Ray’s shoulders dropped and he leaned back, head resting on the armrest. “Not unless we were fighting. But I guess that doesn’t count, huh?”

There was a note of self-deprecating humour in Ray’s voice that was well familiar to Trevor. He grinned at Ray, softer around the edges than he intended.

“No, it kinda doesn’t,” he agreed, reaching out and smoothing the blanket out. Ray stilled under the touch. “But hey, admitting to having a problem is the first step towards recovery!”

Ray snorted, staring at Trevor in mild disbelief. “God, you sound like my therapist.”

“You have a therapist?” Trevor asked, halfway between teasing and taken aback. He opened his mouth, another quip on his tongue, but Ray’s face fell and he turned to stare at the blank TV, avoiding Trevor’s eyes, and Trevor snapped his mouth shut with a tooth-aching click.

“Yeah. It was… it was mandatory. At the… the clinic.”

“Clinic?” Trevor echoed, head spinning. Ray shrugged, still not looking at him.

“Yeah. I’m sure Ryan told you about my… my addiction problem.” A sardonic laugh crawled its way free of Ray’s throat, and Trevor could only stare. “It was the major sticking point between us. Reason for most of our fights, really.”

“Oh.” Trevor’s thoughts raced ahead, the pieces falling into place. “So that’s where you… why you...”

“Where I’ve been these last two years?” Ray pulled up his knees, wrapping his arms around them, gaze dropping to his feet. “Yeah.”

“That… that makes sense. Huh.”

And it did, in so many ways. The radio silence, the tension, the long absence, the expectation of Ryan waiting for him to get out… Except. Ryan hadn’t waited, had he? And while two years were still a very long time, that… that didn’t add up. Ryan never struck Trevor as the type of guy to go back on that kind of promise. He wouldn’t do that, would he? If Ray had gone into a clinic to heal, to fight his addiction, and Ryan promised... It wasn’t fair, to any of them, for Ryan to turn around and break that promise by dating Trevor. And Trevor hadn’t known because-

Thoughts whirling through his head, Trevor added tentatively, “Ryan never said.”

Ray shrugged again, still not meeting Trevor’s eyes. “Yeah. I guess he wouldn’t.”

***

“D’you mind if we go by the penthouse today?” Ray called from the couch where he was fiddling with his DS while Ryan was washing up. He wasn’t really in the mood to play, but the motions calmed his agitated nerves. He still had a stash in his bedroom at the penthouse, too, maybe he could excuse himself to shoot up in the bathroom with no one the wiser. That should take the edge off for the day, at least. “I wanted to check in with Geoff and the lads.”

“Sounds good, dear,” Ryan called back, the sound off running water cutting off. Probably done with his shower than. Ray considered joining him, imagined the water running down toned abs in rivulets. He closed his eyes, enjoying the conjured mental picture. Hazy around the edges, recalled from memories over two months old, and perhaps worth refreshing…

His fingers shook and Ray grimaced, clenching them into fists. No, there would be time for that later. Penthouse first. The faster he got there, the sooner he could calm down.

The secrecy was worth it, though. This peaceful coexistence had been rare lately, with the stress from work and their constant arguments. Just a little fib to make Ryan happy, and while Ray missed him terribly when he was away, the results spoke for themselves. The sneaking around was getting annoying, though, especially since he used up his last syringe two days ago. He’d have to stock up before he left, and bring more next time.

He closed his DS and folded his hands above it, holding it pressed against his stomach. The pressure gave him something else to focus on.

“We can go to that new Chinese place you said opened on Fifth street after,” Ray suggested idly, smiling at the thought. Ryan loved good Chinese, and Ray didn’t mind. A happy Ryan in the drug-induced quiet sounded like a perfect afternoon to him. Maybe he’d convince Ryan to join him in the shower after, use their limited time together to get reacquainted with his body.

It was a shame he’d have to leave after the weekend, to keep up pretenses. He couldn’t wait for the next plausible excuse to return home. This experiment had gone better than Ray dared to dream.

Ryan still hadn’t answered him. Ray opened his eyes and dropped the DS to the couch table, swinging his legs over to sit up. The noise in the bathroom had stopped entirely, no sound of bare footsteps on tile, or of running water. Not even the clatter of containers or brushes being moved, no buzzing of the electric razor.

Ray stood up, feeling off-kilter. He called out again, “Ryan?”

No answer.

Ray ducked down, pulling a semi-automatic pistol from where it was taped under the couch table, checking the magazine and flipping the safety off with a click. The door to their bedroom is open at an angle, and from there he can see the open door of the bathroom. No Ryan in sight, neither naked nor wrapped up in towels. His fluffy bathrobe lay neatly folded on top of the washing machine.

“Honey?” he asked, something which he never called Ryan. A chance to let him know if someone had broken in, was threatening him. To return a coded message, if able.

The door creaked on its hinges, and they’d have to fix that Ray thought absently as he swept the room from right to left, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

There was no intruder. Ryan stood on the other side of the room, alone, next to the bed, staring down at the duffle in front of him. He only had a towel wrapped around his hips, another slung over his shoulder, wet hair clinging to his neck and shoulders, dripping water. Ray lowered his gun.

“Ryan? What’s wrong?”

For a long second, Ryan didn’t react. Then he looked up, his expression inscrutable. Ray took an involuntary step back, grip on the gun tightening. Ryan didn’t say anything, just stared at him for several long seconds, before nodding stiffly to the bedsheets. Carefully, Ray stepped around and closer, craning his neck to see what Ryan found so shocking-

Ray’s heart stopped.

“Did you go through my things?” he hissed, clicking the safety back on and tossing the pistol onto the bed. His toiletry bag laid on top of his clothes inside the duffle bag, its contents strewn across the bedsheets. Among shaving cream and toothpaste there were tiny, translucent plastic bags, containing white pills in two and weed in three others. Two empty, used syringes had fallen to the floor, one rolling to a stop at Ryan’s feet.

“Explain this,” Ryan growled, indicating the mess with a sharp wave of his hands. Ray bristled.

“Explain? You should explain!” He put his hands on his hips and glared up at his boyfriend. “What the fuck, Ryan. Ever hear of privacy?”

“The shaving cream was empty. You took the back-up when you left,” Ryan stated, voice dangerous and utterly unrepentant. His next words were a low hiss, “Explain.”

“Explain what?” Ray snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. His stomach dropped. “What the fuck does it look like?”

“It looks like,” Ryan said, taking a step forward and looming over Ray, “like you were lying to me.”

“I didn’t,” Ray shot back, lifting his chin.

“Are you-” Ryan’s voice broke, high and furious, “-are you taking me for a goddamn idiot?”

“I went to the stupid clinic, okay? I just… didn’t stick around for long.” Ray focussed his attention on Ryan’s glare, pushing the memories of pitying looks and condescending words aside. He didn’t like being treated as if he were broken. Besides- “I don’t need to stay at some stupid rehab center to stop. I don’t need their help.”

“So you lied to me,” Ryan concluded, his face terribly, terribly blank, “because you didn’t want to stop.”

Ray ground his teeth, nails biting into his arms through the thick hoodie sleeves. “I can still stop.”

The look that got him was cold, calculating. “But you didn’t.”

Ryan kicked the empty syringe, and it rolled under the bed. Silence descended on them, Ray staring at the spot the syringe vanished. Finally, he raised his head and met Ryan’s accusing gaze.

“It’s not like you noticed any difference.” Ray shrugged one shoulder, matching Ryan’s glare. “So what’s the point?”

Something flickered through Ryan’s eyes, pain and fury and something else Ray couldn’t quite identify. His mouth tightened, before consciously relaxing, the twisted look smoothing into something determined.

“Get out,” Ryan rasped. Ray threw up his hands.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Get. Out.” The words were bitten off, a sharp hiss filled with anger. Ray clenched his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms.

“Fine,” he spat, brushing past Ryan and shoving the toiletries and drugs into his duffle. “Call me when you’re done throwing a tantrum, dude.”

Ray huffed, pointedly rolling his eyes where Ryan could see, and swanned out. Ryan stood, blank and unmoving, watching him leave. The guilt churned in Ray’s stomach, and he squashed it ruthlessly. He could stay over at Gavin’s for the night. Find his stash, clear his head. Figure out his next step.

He knew what he’d done was wrong. But it was Ryan’s own fault. What had he expected, really, when he made his ultimatum?

***

Ray swallowed the words back down. What did it matter now, why he did it? Sure as hell didn’t matter to Ryan.

“It’s fine. It won’t affect the heist,” Ray chose to assure his boss instead. Geoff narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to reply, but closed it as Mica stepped in. Ray gave her a grateful nod. Mica brushed past him without acknowledgement, her shoulder strifing his with enough momentum to smart. Ray raised a hand to rub at the spot, eyeing her from the side.

“We waiting on anyone else, Ramsey?” she asked, and Geoff had to let it go.

“No. I wanted to ask you two about where the best sniper nests are for this heist, and where you’ll take position. Depending on how much maneuverability is required, Jack will need to get a different chopper.”

The meeting had a weird vibe. They got to the point quickly, but couldn’t agree on anything. Geoff seemed distracted, staring off into the distance before his gaze snapped back to them. Mica was professional and matter of fact, though she kept shooting him challenging looks whenever she stated her argument. Ray didn’t give it much thought, preoccupied with very much not thinking about Ryan. Or Collins. Especially not about the two of them, together.

“A Blackhawk should suffice, if we still got one,” Ray offered, after they’d been stewing over maps for half an hour. He marked one of the lower buildings around their target. “I’d prefer this spot over the others, even if it has a less ideal vantage point. It’s got a clear escape route and good cover.”

“I’m good with this one,” Mica declared, pointing to a spot entirely the opposite of the one Ray picked, with a great view of the building but no independent escape. She’d be a sitting duck. “I trust Jack to grab me on the way out.”

She shot Ray a look he blithely ignored, unsure why she was trying to get a rise out of him - or what for. It didn’t matter either way. He’d leave right after the heist was over and done with, there was no need to make nice with any of the newer crew. 

“That should cover the East and West sides, as well as most of the South. There’s a blindspot to the North, though,” Ray summed up, tapping each point on the map with his pen. “You said there’s an employee entrance on that end?”

Geoff twirled his mustache, nodding as he considered the map. “There is. It and the parking lot are covered in cameras, though. I’ll check in with Matt, he might be able to keep an eye on it.”

“Matt will be busy guiding you guys on the inside,” Mica reminded him with a huff, crossing her arms. “Have Steffie on standby, she can watch until she’s needed.”

Geoff nodded slowly, brows knitting together in thought. “That could work. She’s on medevac and clean-up, unless something dire happens, she should be fine. We can ask Ashley to cover for her at the warehouse.”

“I’m on my way over there after this, want me to pass the message along?”

“Great. You do that.” Geoff frowned down at the map, considering the angles as he tapped his lower lip. “I’ll need you two to back up the others on some of the prep jobs. Ray, you’re covering Gavin on the deal tomorrow, and then follow Jeremy on Wednesday. Mica, I need you with Ryan this week.” That stung, but Ray knew Geoff thought it was for the best to keep them separate. Wasn’t necessarily true because they could put things aside long enough to work together, but Ray could see his point. He certainly didn’t want to face Ryan’s disapproval again, before or after. “Jack will contact you if anything changes.”

“You got it, Boss.” Mica saluted, before turning on her heels and stalking out of the room without another word. Ray glanced after her, arching an eyebrow.

“Dude,” he said, looking back at Geoff. “She’s kinda intense.”

Geoff shook his head, a small smile playing around his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

He shot Ray a look that made him think he was missing something, but he dismissed the thought. He didn’t need to understand her, not when he wasn’t staying long and unlikely to work with her, seeing how their areas of expertise overlapped. So he didn’t ask. Instead, he changed the topic to the decision he made after his talk with Ryan. Time to face the music.

“I’m staying until after the heat dies down post-heist, but then I’m leaving. Gavin can contact me if you need me for a job on a contract-basis, but I’m not going to stick around for much.”

Geoff’s grin faded into a solemn expression. “You sure? You’re always welcome here, buddy.”

“I’m sure,” Ray stated, keeping his voice firm to avoid an argument. He nodded for emphasis, continuing, “It’s for the best.”

“The best for whom?” Geoff challenged him, tone gentle and eyes soft. “The crew? Ryan?”

“For me,” Ray insisted, head held high. He could forgive Geoff for worrying. After all, he used to try and do what’s best for everyone else before even considering his own needs. He’d gotten better at that, at least. He hoped. “I’m sorry, Boss, but you’re right, I have some things left to work through. And maybe I’ll come back some day for good, but that day isn’t anytime soon. It’s best for everyone if I stay away until then.”

“If you’re sure…” Geoff trailed off, grabbing Ray’s shoulder. The weight of it felt reassuring and heavy in turns. “Look, I didn’t mean to push you away. None of us are happy with the situation between you and Ryan but… I can work around it. Mica works well with him, you wouldn’t have to be on the same jobs often.”

“Yeah, that won’t come back to bite us in the ass at all,” Ray snarked, his shoulders slumping.

He thought about staying - he’d missed the casual intimacy with the crew, the warmth and comfort of belonging. Geoff’s hand laid heavy on his shoulder, tempting. He imagined it, working with the lads again, meeting the new guys- seeing Trevor with Ryan. His chest tightened at the thought, something hot and ugly churning in his stomach.

“Look, Geoff… I thought I was ready for this, but I’m clearly not. I’ll need some more time to get my head on straight.” He shook himself and met Geoff’s worried eyes. “But… I’ll try. Who knows, maybe we’ll figure something out by the end of this.”

Geoff stared back at him, eyes drilling straight through his head. Ray saw it in his expression, that he wanted to argue, that he had something to say. It lit a small flame in his chest, warming him from the inside, making it easier to breathe. Made him feel wanted.

But it wasn’t coming from the person Ray wanted, needed. In the end it wasn’t enough to make him stay, and Geoff seemed to read it from his face, decided against arguing. He squeezed his shoulder, instead.

“Whatever you need, buddy. You can change your mind anytime.”

What he needed, Ray thought, was to observe Trevor. Stop thinking of him as his replacement and see what he was like, who he was as a person. See what he had that Ray didn’t, what made Ryan want-

“Thanks, Geoff,” Ray murmured softly, dropping his gaze so he wouldn’t see, and Geoff clapped his shoulder before letting go.

“Well, then. Let’s go to work, this heist isn’t pulling itself off.”

***

There’s a sniper across the street.

Trevor was doing laundry when he first caught sight of that telltale glint of reflected light in the window. Since then, he folded and refolded the same stack of shirts three times, trying to appear busy to his mysterious watcher while pondering what to do about it.

He was pretty sure he knew who, exactly, the sniper was, too.

What Ray was doing in the apartment across the street and two to the right, when Trevor was pretty sure it was actually occupied by an elderly couple, Trevor had no idea. Why he was doing it, however, seemed altogether too obvious. Frowning, Trevor finally set the stack of shirts aside, using the walk to the closet to gauge Ray’s current position.

Still in the elderly couple’s living room. Trevor frowned, hoping they’d gone out to a book club meeting or something.

By now Trevor was relatively sure the sniper wasn’t there to shoot him - he’d had ample opportunity, and if Ryan ever finds out Trevor put himself into harm’s way just to test a hypothesis he’ll have Trevor’s head. But that left only two more possible reasons, and Trevor didn’t really feel comfortable with either. But was Ray stationed across the street simply to observe - stalk, the angry part of himself corrected - them or to shoot Ryan?

Putting away the ironing board in the broom closet, Trevor mulled over his options. He could text Ryan about the situation- yet something made him hesitate. Ryan would head over to confront Ray, and considering how out of sorts he’d been since their last talk, that’s an outcome Trevor would rather avoid. Protective anger welled up in his chest, and Trevor glowered at the window.

Why was Ray watching their apartment? What was he hoping to accomplish?

He’s jealous, Trevor realized, eyes narrowing.

Did he think if he could take Trevor out of the picture, Ryan would welcome him back with open arms? Trevor snorted. As if the issues between them would be resolved that easy.

But Ryan still loves him. The thought niggled at the back of his mind. Their break-up make-ups are legendary.

Shut up, he told his brain. You’re overthinking again. Ryan loves you. Ray’s reappearance only caused him pain.

Because he’s not over Ray, that small part pointed out, and Trevor willed himself to ignore it. Instead he focussed on his growing anger.

So he thinks he can just come back and act as if nothing’s changed? After everything he’s done to Ryan? He sneered, continuing the thought viciously, Does he think I’ll just roll over and let him hurt Ryan all over again? The crew might’ve not intervened in the past but things changed. Three fucking years- why is he watching? What’s he expecting to see?

Something hot and ugly like bile rose in the back of his throat. He may not hate Ray- couldn’t care less about him as a person, really- but he hated what this was doing to Ryan, the shattered mess of emotions he tried to hide behind that mask. The way Ray just went and disrupted the life they’d so carefully built together.

The apartment door clicked open, and in that moment Trevor came to a snap decision.

He wants a show? I’ll give him a show, he thought as he pulled the curtains of their bedroom wide open. From that angle, Ray would have a good view of most of the room. I’ll show him exactly how much Ryan wants me. That Ryan has made his choice.

“Trevor?” Ryan called out. Trevor hurried to pull his shirt off, tossing it in the corner.

“Bedroom!” he called back. Pulling the drawer of the night stand open revealed a bottle of lube, maybe two thirds full. Trevor grabbed it and put it on top. Then he chucked his jeans, kicking them in the same corner as the shirt. Now, for the cherry on top...

“I’ve got the rest of the day off, so I was thinking we could-”

Footsteps in the hallway, then the door creaking open. Trevor’s fingers worked quick and sure, using the window as a mirror. That way, Ryan couldn’t see what he was doing - but Ray had a great view.

You don’t know who you’re messing with, Trevor thought and bared his teeth in a vicious smile.

“-go to that salsa pla… Trevor?” Ryan paused, door falling shut behind. There was a suspicious silence. “...why are you naked in the middle of the afternoon?”

Trevor hummed, faking a thoughtful look.

“Laundry day,” he answered, shooting Ryan a grin and a wink over his shoulder. He leaned forward and wiggled his butt. “But don’t worry! I made sure to dress up for you.”

He turned around, lounging languidly against the window sill. Ryan choked, coughing as his eyes tracked over Trevor’s body.

“Is that- are those-” Ryan gestured towards his wrists and throat, words turning into a strangled, choked-off noise. Trevor tugged on the white cuffs as if self-conscious.

“You know I’m a classy bitch, Ryan,” he said, pouting as he batted his lashes. “I’m not just gonna wait for you on the bed naked. No, there’s gotta be something left for you to unpack.”

“You’re something, alright,” Ryan said in a strangled voice. He stepped forward, one hand dropping to Trevor’s waist before he paused, giving him a plaintive look. “Please tell me there isn’t a bow around your dick this time?”

“Damn.” Trevor snapped his fingers with a put-upon expression. “I knew I forgot something.”

Ryan chuckled, pulling him in for a kiss. Trevor teased his teeth over Ryan’s lip, smiling to himself in satisfaction as Ryan groaned and pressed closer.

“Aren’t you hot under all these layers?” Trevor purred, his fingers dancing up Ryan’s arm before twisting the low ponytail around his finger. “You’re wearing a lot of them.”

Ryan’s hands roamed up and down his sides as he pinned him against the window. There was a smirk on his lips as he pulled back, lifting one hand to brush his thumb over the corner of Trevor’s mouth. It came back smudged with grey paint, and Ryan arched a brow.

“I think you rather enjoy that thought, don’t you?” Ryan growled, his other hand slipping around to cup his butt. “The fact that I’m still in work clothes while you are woefully underdressed.”

“I am dressed perfectly fine for the occasion, thank you,” Trevor retorted, wrapping his arms over Ryan’s shoulders and pulling him close. “I have to admit, the facepaint is a nice touch.”

“Yeah?” Ryan snorted, pressing their lips together. He trailed kisses up Trevor cheek, pausing to breathe hot air against his sensitive ear. His voice dropped an octave as he added in a murmur, “You want the big, bad Vagabond to bend you over?”

A shiver raced down Trevor’s spine, and he bucked up against Ryan’s thigh. “Fuck yes,” he gasped.

Ryan chuckled, the vibrations shivering over his skin. Trevor groaned, pressing close. Ryan brushed a kiss behind his ear, hands settling in a firm grip on Trevor’s hips.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and Trevor complied without hesitation.

He glanced up as he put his hands against the window, Ryan mouthing at his neck, and smirked. A figure moved in the window of the old couple’s apartment, a dark outline against the crocheted curtains. The sound of a zipper distracted Trevor, and he looked back over his shoulder at Ryan, who caught his mouth in a searing kiss.

For a second - an eternity - he forgot all about the sniper across the street and his half-baked revenge scheme. Baking never was his strong suit, anyway.

Then Ryan was pushing down his shorts, and Trevor settled his elbows against the window pane, tugging on the bowtie to straighten it. If he was gonna make a point, he was damn well gonna look dapper as hell while doing it. Ryan’s shoulder bumped against his as he turned sideways to reach for the lube, murmuring an apology under his breath.

The moment he turned away, a red dot appeared on the glass. Right above Trevor’s heart.

Trevor stared at the dot, then lifted his gaze up and across, to where he knew Ray was, even if he couldn’t see him. He arched a brow, daring him to take the shot. His heart pounded against his ribs as he waited for something to happen. But nothing did. Another beat, and the dot slid up, facing Trevor. Probably right between his eyes, he mused idly. His breath was fogging up the window, and he dragged a finger through it, drawing a heart shape. Then he stared across the street, imagined locking eyes with Ray, and winked.

The red dot vanished, and Trevor turned his attention back to Ryan.

He didn’t know if Ray left or stayed to watch, and the uncertainty sent a thrill up his spine. He raised one hand to Ryan’s hair and pressed his chest flat against the window, posing with the awareness of their potential audience. It didn’t really matter what Ray was doing - Ray didn’t matter. What mattered was Ryan, his happiness, his pleasure. Trevor grinned to himself, triumph filling his chest.

Score for Trevor.

***

“He’s not that bad, you know,” Gavin mumbled around his spoon. Ray shot him a questioning look. Gavin plopped the spoon out of his mouth and scraped through the bottom of his sundae glass for more of the delicious ice-cream. “Trevor, I mean. I could introduce you two.”

“No thanks,” Ray drawled, crossing his arms on the table. He’d finished his ice-cream five minutes ago. “Besides, we’ve already met.”

Gavin winced, trading a clearly uncomfortable look with Michael. Their communication worked silent, effortless, conveying their thoughts with just a look and Ray felt a sudden stab of jealousy. He used to be a part of this, used to be able to read them. Now their faces were inscrutable, and their tells had changed since he last worked with them years ago.

Everything had changed, even if it didn’t look like it on the surface, and Ray in all honesty wasn’t sure what he’d expected. To slot right back into place as if the last year hadn’t happened? Ray himself had changed a lot, that was the entire point. No, he knew things would be different, but he thought they’d be similar enough for him to adjust.

I didn’t think it would be so hard, Ray realized, watching Gavin trail his spoon through the leftover sludge in an idle, absent motion. The longer he stayed, the more apparent the differences became.

“Trevor’s pretty funny once you get to know him,” Gavin insisted, pointing his spoon at Ray and breaking him out of his thoughts. “He’s up for a lot of shenanigans! Once I ground up American smarties and dropped the powder all on his desk. And Trevor didn’t get mad or anything, though it was admittedly uncalled for…”

Gavin trailed off, a slight frown on his face. Michael chuckled, taking over the story.

“It looked like coke exploded over everything,” he said, and Ray sat back slowly, feeling like someone dumped ice down the back of his shirt. “Geoff started yelling immediately, thinking we’d used part of a shipment for a prank, but Trevor just dove in, face first. Pretty sure there was sugar dust in his files for weeks.”

Michael laughed, but Gavin caught Ray’s eyes and flinched, smile melting into a grimace. Ray wasn’t sure what his face showed, but he just felt... cold. His fingers twitched, itching for a pill he knew wasn’t there. He bit down the words bubbling up in his throat, focussing instead on Gavin’s wide eyes. Concentrated on taking a breath, holding it in his lungs, letting it expand his chest, before letting it go.

The words whirled through his mind, so is Trevor a druggie? and Ryan’d be pissed if it was me so why is it funny? What’s the difference?, but he swallowed them, knowing he was being unfair. It wasn’t the same. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

They looked so happy together, whenever he observed them.

Why didn’t we have that? What went wrong?

Michael stopped laughing abruptly, catching on to the tense silence. Gavin kept playing with his spoon, the awkward tension rising as he avoided Ray’s gaze. Michael shot him a questioning look, but he just shook his head.

“Anyway,” Gavin continued, stiff in his chair, the opposite of his relaxed demeanour from not a minute ago. “I think you two would get along. You’re pretty similar in a lot of ways.”

I bet, Ray thought, heat bubbling up in his chest. Remembered how Collins caught onto his surveillance the other day. Remembered the way he’d been all over Ryan, claiming him. Collins couldn’t have been clearer if he’d written mine on the window. It’d made his finger twitch, and he clenched his hand into a fist. He’d been tempted to pull the trigger, too.

He’s definitely just as petty. Ray didn’t say anything, though.

“Just… Give him a chance,” Gavin finished lamely, shooting Michael a look that called for Help! Michael stared back, face blank, and didn’t say anything. Lost for words, Ray assumed.

“I’ll consider it,” Ray replied, tone sharp as he pushed his chair back with a shrieking scrape.

Michael and Gavin exchanged a look at that. Eventually Michael shrugged and changed the subject.

“This is fun and all, but we need to go unless we want to be late.” He tapped on the table, an impatient da-da-dab. “This guy supposedly has a job offer as a guard for the bank. Still believe he’s bluffing, but who knows? Sure would make our life way easier.”

“Good luck,” Ray drawled, hiding his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He knew he was going to be back on the rooftops stalking Collins the moment they split up. It wasn’t healthy, but Ray couldn’t help himself. Just the thought of the other man made him burn. It’s why he agreed to meet up with the lads in between jobs, he could use the distraction.

But now they were off, and Ray found himself at loose ends again, with no jobs until Wednesday. Collins hadn’t been at the apartment this morning, might be working a job for Geoff, or at any of his haunts around the city. Ray didn’t know him well enough yet to know where those were, but he had a lead or two-

Gavin cleared his throat, nudging Michael with a pointy elbow when Ray glanced up.

“You still coming over tonight? We were gonna play some Mario Kart, maybe order pizza,” Michael offered, dropping a handful of bills on the table as he pushed his chair back. “Might play some Halo if you’re joining, Gavvy’s been bitching about us always picking games he’s bad at.”

“Have not!” Gavin protested, voice breaking into a high pitch.

“Have too,” Michael mocked nasally, grin stretching across his face. Then he glanced at Ray, smile wavering, uncertain. “You in?”

Ray wanted to say yes, ignore all the stress for one night. Pretend nothing had changed. Still, he hesitated. Maybe it was something in Michael’s tone that tipped him off, or the way Gavin leaned forward, giving him an eager, expectant look, but...

“Who else is coming?” he asked, watching them closely. Their tells had gotten subtler but this… it screamed of a prank, or considering the situation… an ambush.

Michael and Gavin shot each other another look, before Michael shrugged.

“The two of us. Jack. Maybe Geoff though I doubt it, seeing how busy he is. Jeremy probably.” He paused, eyeing Ray intently. “You should maybe talk to him. He’s convinced you hate his guts.”

Ray startled. He’d expected this to be a continuation of Gavin’s ‘Get To Know Trevor’ scheme. The idea that anyone else had problems with his sudden return hadn’t even occurred to him. “What? Why?”

“Little J’s just being silly.” Gavin giggled. “He thinks he kinda took your spot, since he was promoted to main crew after you… left.” Gavin stopped, staring at him with a charming smile that didn’t reach his eyes, all the Fake’s Golden Boy. A dare; a threat. “But you’re not mad at him, right? That’d be stupid.”

“Of course not!” Ray burst out, bewildered. He’d been so busy with his own personal drama, he’d totally missed that. He was usually much more observant. “What the fuck?”

Gavin relaxed, smile turning smug and real. “Good.”

Michael clasped his shoulder as he stood up, a question in his eyes.

“We’ll see you later, then?”

Ray gave him a dry look. He wondered if Michael realized how he’d be spending his hours until then. Maybe they thought he’d hole up in his hotel room and play games all afternoon. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Sure. Why not.”

As long as Collins wasn’t there, he might as well try and make nice with the crew.

***

In the end he did decide to go. Collins was nowhere to be found, and Ray could use a distraction from his thoughts. Gavin, at least, seemed delighted as he opened the door. Jack greeted him warmly, and Michael demanded his help in an argument about what game to play first. Jeremy showed up about an hour later.

Now that it’d been pointed out to him, Ray noticed how jumpy Jeremy was around him. He seemed fine with the others - rough-housing with Michael, teasing Gavin past the point of offense, giving Jack lip when he got into his petulant asshole mood or started gloating during Trials… But one snarky comment from Ray and he clamped up.

Ray attempted to compliment Jeremy’s skill in the games they played to ease the tension, but trailed off into an awkward silence because Jeremy appeared more and more alarmed the nicer Ray got. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

To make matters worse, Michael and Gavin kept shooting him looks when Jeremy’s back was turned, annoyed and pleading and maybe a bit exasperated. Ray sunk deeper into the couch, getting quieter as the evening grew late. It felt like his fault, like he was somehow ruining their game night just with his presence. Like he was an intruder, the outsider. It wasn’t a good feeling. Ray didn’t enjoy conflict, and he was the last person to force a confrontation. It was a toss up, really, who was worse at outright avoiding problems until they blew up in their faces: him or Gavin.

Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that Ray ended up lurking in the kitchen on the pretense of going to grab some more snacks.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, even if every minute felt like an eternity, before Jeremy stumbled into the kitchen. He set an empty bottle onto the table with a heavy thunk, before staring at it as if it held the answers to the universe. Both Michael and Jeremy had gotten progressively drunk over the evening, egged on by Gavin with Jack’s bemused incredulity in the background. And while Michael got worse and worse at games, Jeremy’s winrate didn’t suffer much. Still, he seemed plenty drunk now, standing in the middle of the kitchen, zoning out staring at a beer bottle.

It took Jeremy a good thirty seconds to notice Ray. He blinked, taking a step back, then shuffled his feet and turned to face Ray, one hand left on the table to prop him up.

“Sorry,” he said, cocking his head. “Did you say something?”

“Nah.” Ray shrugged, pulling over an energy drink, just to have something to fiddle with. “S’all good.”

“Are we?” Jeremy blurted out, the question apparently on the forefront of his mind. “Good, I mean?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.” Ray pulled the tab, air hissing from the can. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Dunno.” Jeremy scratched his beard, gaze wandering around the room. “You seemed pretty mad.”

“What?” Ray startled, catching his can before it dropped to the floor. “When? I’ve been nice to you all evening!”

“I don’t know, man.” Jeremy shrugged. “You sounded pretty sarcastic?”

“Oh.” It was Ray’s turn to shuffle his feet, feeling awkward. “I, um. Meant it, though? Like for real, dude. You’re pretty, uh…”

“I’m pretty?” Jeremy teased, lips curling up into a grin.

“Pretty skilled,” Ray deadpanned, shooting him a dry look. Jeremy’s grin slowly melted into a thoughtful expression, and Ray waited for his brain to catch up, curious what he was thinking.

“Wait.” Jeremy squinted at him, trying to focus through his drunken haze. “Are we flirting? Were you hitting on me?”

“Thanks, but you’re not my type,” Ray drawled. Jeremy blinked up at him, frown creasing his brow. Ray took pity on his drunk ass, elaborating, “I like them tall, dark and handsome.”

Jeremy’s frown cleared, face lighting up. “Like Trevor!”

Ray winced. He’d never even considered Collins in those terms. “I was thinking more like Ryan, but sure. I suppose.”

“Oh. Right.” Jeremy snapped his fingers at Ray, lips quirked up into a wide grin. “You used to date! Before you left. I think…”

He trailed off, gaze wandering up as his brows furrowed in thought. Ray grimaced, eyeing the countertops. He fumbled to grab a full beer, popping the cap off on the ledge, before pushing it into Jeremy’s hands, distracting him from the topic at hand. A drunk Jeremy was not who Ray would choose to confide in, if he had to pick someone. A return to avoidance was in order.

“Here,” Ray said, wrapping Jeremy’s fingers around the bottle. “That’s what you came here for, right?”

“Hell yeah!” Jeremy brightened, raising the bottle in salute. “Thanks, bud!”

“You’re welcome.” Crisis averted, Ray let himself smile. “And we’re good, alright? I don’t mind that you got promoted to the main crew, or whatever you were thinking. You clearly earned it thrice over, dude.”

“Alright,” Jeremy agreed, his tone amiable, taking a large swig from his bottle. He pushed away from the table, swaying on his feet. “Hey, we should play Nidhogg again! I’ll trounce you.”

“You can try,” Ray shot back, letting Jeremy drag him to the couch in the living room, chattering away. Jack caught his eyes on the way back, giving him an approving nod.

Once Jeremy was safely delivered and distracted by the others, Ray sunk back into the couch and into his thoughts. While he’d been preoccupied trying to figure out what Ryan saw in Collins, it had been easy to push aside any thoughts regarding what Ray might think of him. Collins wasn’t- he was Ryan’s boyfriend. Ray’s replacement. Version two point oh. Not a person in and of himself, no matter how much Gavin insisted they might get along in different circumstances.

The circumstances were what they were. Ray was better off not wondering.

***

Jack watched the dark-haired man cross the street, hands pushed into his pockets and shoulders slouched. With his loose dad jeans riding low and grey ball cap on in reverse, no one would think to accuse him to be the notorious Vagabond. Which was, admittedly, the point, even if Jack in the privacy of his own mind thought Ryan had too much fun pretending to be this rejected hipster dad persona.

Ryan meandered up the street, stopping here and there to stare at various shops’ displays, until he made his unhurried way over to where Jack was waiting. The door opened just as the last notes of the radio song faded, closing as the next one started.

“You got everything?” Jack asked as he started the car, interrupted the song for a precious few seconds before the electronics went back on. Ryan grunted, underlined by the click of the seat belt.

“Nothing new,” he reported, short and concise, a frown marring his brow. “They stuck to the routine, but that weasel-y guy didn’t make his run for the back today so who fucking knows what he’s up to.”

Jack hummed. “We didn’t expect him to,” he pointed out. Ryan huffed.

“Yeah. Still.” He rolled his shoulders, settling into his seat. “Waste of time.”

Jack didn’t argue, keeping his eyes on the road. Traffic through the center of Los Santos was its own kind of hell, and it took Jack’s entire focus to navigate with cars cutting him off and running red lights. Three songs and a random joke from the radio host later they finally pulled up on the highway and Jack could turn his attention to the elephant in the room. At his estimation, they had maybe five to ten minutes before they reached the penthouse. Plenty of time to have a talk.

“So,” Jack spoke up as the song faded, turning the volume down as an ad started playing instead. “How’re you holding up?”

From the corner of his eyes he saw Ryan’s mouth tighten.

“I’m fine,” was the short reply, not inviting further discussion. Jack hummed.

“The preparation for this heist is stressful for everyone,” he said instead, as if offering an out. A feint, but it worked in the past. “I for one am stealing Gavin’s Titan after we’re done and fucking off to Hawaii or somewhere.”

Ryan relaxed a little, corner of his mouth ticking up. “Vacation sounds good.”

“Mhm,” Jack agreed, braking as the backlights on the car before them flared red. “You and Trevor got any plans?”

Ryan made a thoughtful noise, shaking his head. “Nothing concrete. Go on some dates, sleep in, that kinda stuff.”

“Could get out of town for a bit,” Jack suggested, swerving to overtake a jeep that rolled along at only ten miles per hour. Might as well stand still on the middle of the highway. Asshole. Jack pressed on the horn as they drove by. “You know, until the heat dies down.”

Ryan inclined his head, shooting him a small smile. “I’ll bring it up with Trevor.”

“You two haven’t really gone on a trip yet, just the two of you,” Jack commented, keeping his tone light as he brought the question back around and came at it from a different angle. “Unlike you and Ray used to.”

“Jack.” His name was a sharp hiss, a reproach. Jack blithely ignored the inherent warning, rolling straight over Ryan’s protest.

“Wouldn’t want to give Trevor the wrong idea. Especially with Ray back in town.”

Ryan turned his face away, glaring out of the window. Jack kept his tone mild, going in for the kill.

“Can’t be easy for him, to have your ex just show up unannounced. How is he doing?”

“He’s fine.”

“Really,” Jack drawled as he pulled off the highway. “Have you talked about it?”

“Yes,” Ryan growled, still not making eye contact. Jack raised a brow in disbelief, letting his silence speak for himself. “Sort of. A bit.”

“A bit,” Jack repeated, voice mild as he shook his head. “Ryan- hell knows I know what a constipated bastard you can be about emotions, but you do realize you actually need to talk about this with Trevor at least, right? I mean-” He waved a hand through the air before dropping it back on the steering wheel. “You two have been doing pretty good communicating far as I can see. Much better than you and Ray ever did, for sure.”

Ryan sank deeper into his seat, glowering off into the distance. Jack gentled his tone.

“Look, I’m just worried. Shit, we’re all worried, the whole crew. There’s a lot of tension in the air.” He slowed down as they came closer to the penthouse, dragging out the time they had to talk. He knew once they arrived, Ryan would be out and gone. “I don’t know why you and Ray broke up for good, but anyone with eyes can see that there’s still stuff between you. And Trevor is one of the most observant guys I know. Clever as fuck, too. So don’t lie to him, okay?”

“We’re fine,” Ryan snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Stop prying.”

“What, it’s none of my business?” Jack snorted. “Act like this isn’t going to impact the crew?”

“It’s not,” Ryan insisted, finally turning his glare on Jack. Jack flicked on the turn signal, pulling into the penthouse’s garage.

“Uh huh. Sure.” He shot Ryan a withering look. “It’s not like we’re friends or anything. Why the fuck would we care when two of ours are fighting, right?” A tense pause where Jack stopped the car, locking eyes with Ryan. “Idiot,” he added softly.

They sat there in silence, staring at each other. Contrary to Jack’s predictions, Ryan did not flee the moment the opportunity availed itself. Instead his gaze was drilling into Jack’s head, as if he was looking for something in particular. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he turned away.

“It’s not- it’s not easy, seeing Ray again,” he muttered, and Jack had to strain to hear him. “I don’t- I’m not sure I want to know why. And maybe I’m not fine, alright, yeah.”

“You know you can talk to any of us, right?” Jack pulled his leg up, turning in his seat to face Ryan better. “Geoff’s already talked to Ray, and Trevor has Matt and Jeremy. But we’re all here if you need us, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I just. I’m not ready to talk yet. With anyone.” He lifted his head, eyes meeting Jack’s with determination. “But Trevor and me? That’s not in doubt. Ever. So just…” He trailed off, growing awkward. He reached for his seatbelt, the click echoed in the quiet tension between them. “Don’t question that.”

“Alright,” Jack agreed, watching with worried eyes as Ryan shrugged out of the seatbelt and opened the door. Watched him all the way to the elevator, his gait the steady stalk of the Vagabond approaching a threat.

And shit, when was the last time the penthouse, their home base, became a threat?

Jack rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. Something had to give, sooner or later. He wasn’t sure what - but he was certain he wouldn’t like the aftermath.

***

Trevor checked his set of lockpicks once more, noting the chips here and there. Mica was running late, and they only had a narrow time window in the first place. Jiggling his knee, he inspected one of the tinier picks for damage and mentally reviewed the blueprints Matt sent him last week. It wasn’t the most difficult job to pull off, the security system was quite outdated, culminating in an honest to God old-fashioned safe. No, security wasn’t the problem.

The building’s location was. Smack dab in the heart of a rival group’s territory, what should have been just a quick in-and-out became a two-man job with high stakes.

Well, one man and one woman job, if Mica would show up already.

As if listening to his thoughts, the penthouse elevator dinged. Trevor leaned forward, putting his things back into the small leather case. Light footsteps were mostly muffled by the thick carpet, but Trevor knew what to look out for. They stopped, as if the person hesitated or was looking around for him. Trevor sat up straight, pocketing the picks on the inside of his jacket.

“Over here!” he called out, shoving the used oil cloth into a box. “Jesus, Mica, I thought I’d have to head off alo-”

When he finally looked up, it wasn’t Mica who stood there. Ray stared back at him, expression impassive.

“What are you doing here?” Trevor demanded, perhaps a smidge more hostile than entirely called for. He eyed the sniper case in Ray’s hand, a vague suspicion spreading through his gut. “Where’s Mica?”

“Mica’s in jail,” Ray replied, his voice as bland as his face. “Jack’s on his way to bail her out.”

“Jail,” Trevor echoed sharply. His brows furrowed in concern. “Do you know why?”

“Parking ticket, or something equally trumped up,” Ray said, shrugging. Trevor bit down an expletive.

“Figures. The pigs got impeccable timing, as always.” Trevor clipped the lockpick kit on his belt and stood to face the other man. The fact that he towered a good head over Ray, forcing him to crane his head back to look at Trevor, cheered him up. “I assume you’re standing in for her, then.”

Ray shrugged, pushing his hands into the purple hoodie he was wearing.

“Jack gave me the barebones rundown. Eastside, one of the corporate buildings. Should be easy.”

Ray raised his chin, a challenge in his eyes. Trevor straightened.

“It would be, if we were on better terms with the gang there,” he returned, trying to keep things light. The tension sizzled between them. “Gotta make sure they don’t catch on, and all.”

Ray hummed. “I thought you were supposed to be all-” He wiggled his fingers. “-stealthy and shit.”

“I am,” Trevor shot back, narrowing his eyes. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Don’t strain anything on my behalf,” Ray drawled and smirked up at him as if to say score one for Ray. If they weren’t on a tight timeline here...

“I’m driving,” Trevor asserted, changing the topic. Tilting his head, he smirked as he added, “Got a problem with that?”

“No problems.” Ray sounded bored, but his gaze remained sharp, flicking over Trevor, assessing. “You waiting for anyone else?”

Trevor arched his brows at the clear challenge. Curious. Ray expected him to bow out, make excuses. Call Geoff and reschedule, as if that even was an option. He wasn’t some freelancer, didn’t drop in and out of heists when it was convenient. No, Trevor was part of the crew, and he would not fail them just because he didn’t get along with a partner. He was a professional. Trevor wouldn’t run and leave Ryan to pick up the pieces.

“Nope!” he said, popping the ‘p’ with faux cheer. “Let’s go!”

The drive was mostly silent, Trevor obeying the traffic laws with forced nonchalance - they were trying to fly under the radar, after all. Ray slumped in his seat, staring out of the window. Or maybe he was using the glass to watch Trevor’s reflection, he thought, his grip on the wheel tightening. He forced himself to relax, prying his fingers off and flexing them.

It wasn’t until he drove past their target that Trevor decided to speak up and break the silence.

“You know he’s moved on already, right?” Trevor didn’t take his eyes off the road, but saw Ray shift from the corner. “You can’t win him back, or whatever you think you’re doing.”

“It’s not a competition,” Ray muttered. Trevor hummed.

“No, it’s not. If it were, you’d have lost three years ago.”

“Are you done?” Ray asked, ice creeping into his voice as he turned his back to Trevor. And maybe that was the cue for Trevor to drop it, but he’d never ignored a problem before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

“Actually, you know what? No, I’m not.” Trevor pulled up in an alley and killed the motor, turning to face Ray. “I don’t know what happened between you and frankly? I don’t care. What I do care about is that your presence here is hurting him. So yes, I want you gone. As soon as possible.”

Ray sprawled back in his seat, glancing at Trevor from the corner of his eyes. “You’re scared.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re not sure who he’d choose,” Ray declared, something unbearably smug about his face. Trevor wanted to punch it. “Or maybe you know and don’t like the answer.”

“Oh, there’s only one of us who can’t take no for an answer, and it ain’t me,” Trevor snapped. He raised his hand and made a great show of checking the time. “Now would you look at that! We’re running late.”

“Are we.” Ray tilted his head, eyes sharp and calculating. “Do you always avoid conflict? Running like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, hoping nobody notices you ran out of arguments?”

“See, this is why no one likes you,” Trevor stated, his light tone belied by the cruel twist of his mouth. “You don’t know when you’ve lost, do you?”

He opened the door and stepped out of the car, Ray following suit, his rifle case slung over his back. Trevor walked in brisk steps around the car, adjusting his gloves. The building he needed to break into was just up the street and across- Ray stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“You don’t like me because you’re jealous,” Ray corrected him. Trevor balled his hands into fists, nails digging into the leather of his gloves.

“I don’t like you because you’re a danger,” he hissed, pushing into Ray’s space. “To Ryan, to the crew. Your mere presence throws all our plans into chaos. We have to schedule around you and your petty drama, and quite frankly? The reward does not outweigh the risks.” Trevor jabbed a finger at Ray’s chest. “So get over yourself and move the fuck on, for God’s sake.”

He glared down at Ray, who stared back, not batting an eyelash. His death grip on the strap of his rifle case gave the calm away for the lie it was. Trevor narrowed his eyes, then nodded decisively. He pulled out a slim case from his pocket, snapping it open to reveal a set of comms. He picked one up, fitting it into his ear, eyes never leaving Ray’s.

“One wrong move, Narvaez, and you’re out.” He mustered Ray as he took the other earpiece. “I dare you, give me an excuse.”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, Collins,” Ray warned him in a low, gravelly voice. He sounded so much like Ryan in that moment, threatening a terrible but unspecific fate, it threw Trevor off. Had Ryan rubbed off on him, or had he picked it up from Ray?

“On the contrary, it’s you.” Trevor bared his teeth. “Try me.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can come up with a better line all by yourself. If you’d excuse me...”

And with that Ray turned, climbing on top of a dumpster to jump from there to the ladder hanging down from the fire escape on the opposite building. Trevor watched him, his fingers itching, before turning on his heel and marching out of the alleyway.

Ray dug his own grave, and Trevor was more than happy to give him a shove, if needed.

***

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Head’s up, the first half of chapter 3 is going public on Patreon on Oct 3rd, a week before the entire chapter goes up on here and on Ao3!

A crackle on the comms. Ray flinched, gritting his teeth. He’d forgotten it was there, it fit so well. New tech, more comfortable and nearly invisible as it blended in, he’d have to ask Gavin about it later. Ray let the thought distract him as he inhaled, the air expanding his lungs, the familiar exercise reassuring. It made him feel more in control. Professional. He could do professional, just until this job was over. Another deep breath, and Ray laid flat on the scorching hot rooftop, rifle within reach.

“I’m going in,” Trevor whispered into his ear, so crisp he might as well stand next to him. “We clear?”

Ray peeked through the scope, swinging the rifle around. A group of three lingered outside an alcohol shop a block down from their target. He zoomed in on the woman’s bare arm, checking her tattoo. A skull on fire with the word ‘blaze’ below it in a banner. He remembered Gavin mentioning them. Members of the rival gang, then. He zoomed back out, checked the crossroads. No one else stood out to him, and no one who’d have a vantage point into the alley Trevor was entering from.

“All clear.” He pointed his sniper down the alley and watched as Trevor climbed on a dumpster opposite their target and jumped for a window sill. He scaled the side of the building all the way up to a third floor window which stood ajar. “There’s gang activity down the block, though, so keep it quiet.”

Trevor grunted, the only noise he’d made despite the strenuous activity of free-climbing a building. Presently he was wriggling through the narrow gap of the window, upper body already inside. Less than thirty seconds, and Trevor vanished from view. He was quick and nimble and Ray hated how much his skill impressed him. No wonder Ryan was so taken by him, Ray thought sourly. If there was one thing Ryan always found attractive, it was competence.

Ray trailed Trevor through the building from window to window, checking the floor ahead. A single person loitered in the last room, but Trevor took the stairs way before that, so Ray decided not to mention it. Outside, the small gang was joined by a fourth.

With nothing much to do but wait, his thoughts kept circling back to their little altercation in the car.

“I suppose you think you’re clever,” Ray said as he lost sight of Trevor in the staircase. He was surprised how calm he sounded to his own ears, how steady the words came out. His heart pounded in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if the heat rose from the concrete roof or his blood. “How long have you been practicing that little speech of yours?”

Movement on the stairs as Trevor entered his field of view. Was it his imagination or had his swagger changed?

“All week?” Ray hazarded a guess, checking the windows down the line. “Did you practice in the mirror? Ask Ryan for feedback?” The thought hurt. Ray was quick to change the topic. “Activity four rooms down. A white man, mid-fifties, and an unknown.”

A tap on the comms as Trevor acknowledged him, then vanished into a room. Ray frowned. He hadn’t had time to memorize the floorplan, so he wasn’t sure what Trevor was up to. Still, he was the expert at breaking and entering, he had to know what he was doing. It would help to know how he worked, so Ray could anticipate his next move but... Ray was simply there for surveillance. And commentary.

“Sad you couldn’t make the meeting last week, it was quite the reunion… Though I heard you were held up. By the Blazes, was it?” His mouth ticked up into a smirk. “Scared of them, are you? Had to hide until Ryan could come and get you?”

It felt great to vent his frustration, especially with Collins’ inability to talk back. Trevor struck Ray as a talkative person, always a quip on his tongue. Thinking of how frustrating this must be for him made it that much sweeter. He hoped it burned.

Trevor’s words still rattled in Ray’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

This is why no one likes you.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised at you needing backup on this mission. Just an easy in and out, but no, can’t leave itty bitty Trevor alone with them scary, scary Blazes. Should’ve just sent someone else, but guess things are desperate this close to the heist so they had no other option but to sent you. Does it hurt, being the last choice, only chosen when no one else is left?”

Ray bit off the rest of the words, no longer sure he was talking about the crew. The words tumbled easily from his lips, sharp-edged and burning like poison, without much thought. Too close to honesty, too close to a confession, and Collins was the last person he’d open up to. Control, he reminded himself. He could do this.

With Trevor still out of sight, Ray checked the streets again. He frowned. The party of their rival gang had gained a fifth, with two more Blazes turning the corner down the block. Was the shop a front for their operations, or this street a hot spot in their territory? That would explain why Jack had asked him to step in for Mica. No matter his disparaging words, it was clearly a two people job. Or perhaps the Blazes were planning something of their own. Either way, they had to be careful.

That didn’t stop him from taunting Collins.

“Makes me wonder, though. However did you make it into the crew? Clearly it wasn’t your skills.” Ray watched as the leader pulled out a cig and lit it, trying not to think of the easy way Trevor climbed the building. “Did you sleep your way up? That why you want me gone so badly? Afraid Ryan’s gonna toss you out of his bed, now that there’s better options?”

The last choice, after he left. Second best.

You’re a danger to Ryan. To the crew.

Ray curled his finger around the trigger, ignoring the tremble running down the back of his hand, and waited. The comm remained silent. Ray’s grip on his rifle steadied with the constant flow of words tumbling from his lips, droning out the echo of Trevor’s, but his fingers still vibrated in fury. So he kept talking. It helped distract him from the simmering urge to help his calm along by other means, to take off the spike from the stress.

Never far, but under control.

It was always a struggle, but right now it was worse. Trevor’s words rattled him, shook loose his ironclad control, his determination to stay clean. It would be so easy, to slip up, to let the drugs take his mind away. To escape all this tension, the fight with Ryan, Trevor’s whole existence, Gavin and Michael’s poorly hidden pity. A pill, a pinch of powder, a needle-

Ray’s breath escaped him in a sharp hiss. This was Trevor’s fault.

He let the rage sink into his skin, let it consume him, burn away the urgent need. Calm wasn’t doing it, but vindictive seemed to work. So he kept spewing vitriol into the comms and hoped it burned Trevor, left him as rattled as Ray felt, adrift in a sea of lies holding onto his truth. Ray focussed on the feeling, pulled the spite over his thin skin like a cloak.

This, all of this was Trevor’s fault.

Everything was Trevor’s fault. If he wasn’t here- if he hadn’t stolen Ryan while he was vulnerable, seduced him away from Ray, from their agreement- But Ray could be patient. He knew how stubborn Ryan was, how expertly Trevor had wrapped him around his little finger. Had convinced the crew, even, somehow. It wouldn’t be easy to prove it, but Ray was a sniper. He had to be patient.

His finger tightened around the trigger, and he waited.

***

Trevor listened intently to the voices in the room below him as he wriggled through the vents, letting them drown out the chatter on the comms. And really, who would have picked Ray as the chatty type? He dug his nails into his palm, ignoring another gibe as he slithered forward. Christ, but would he just shut up already?

The vent forked into two directions up ahead. Trevor recalled the building’s blueprint, judged the distance to the echoing voices from below and crawled to the right. The long way around, maybe, but he would not be caught and hand Ray more ammunition. Nevermind that this mission was rather important for their upcoming heist.

“-must be a good lay, for them to keep you around as long. So I guess you have that going for you,” Ray was saying as Trevor lifted the grid and slipped out of the vents into a bathroom stall. No one in there, good.

“Better than you, I’m told,” he muttered under his breath, checking the hallway was empty. The comm remained blissfully silent as he snuck down and around the corner. Served Ray right, casting aspersions on his character knowing that silence was key to their mission. A door opened on the far end and Trevor ducked behind a filing cabinet, holding his breath. Steps, leading away from him. Trevor counted to thirty before he dared to move.

The room with the safe was the third one down and to the right. Trevor listened carefully at the door, tapping his comm to demand a status update.

“Don’t have the two on the inside in my sight anymore. Target room is empty,” Ray reported. Trevor didn’t hesitate, picking the lock on the door before Ray finished speaking. “No fucking clue where you are since you wasted your breath on non-essential information.”

Couldn’t take the insults he handed out, could he? Trevor rolled his eyes as he cracked the door open, sliding in through the gap and pulling it close behind him. The click sounded louder in the quiet than it actually was. Trevor forced himself to move on, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. He looked around the room and stepped forward, giving the windows a jaunty wave. The red laser dot blinked in and out on his tac vest as he walked past.

Cute.

The room was empty, with one big table surrounded by chairs to one side, an LCD projector screwed into the ceiling above. On the other side stood a desk with computer set-up, like a weird mix of office and conference room. The safe was sandwiched between cabinets lining the wall, looking like a movie prop, straight out of a detective noir story, an old one with a dial. Trevor grimaced but pulled out the tiny stethoscope he brought just for that reason, crouching down in front of the safe. The tumblers rumbled as he turned the dial, listening for that tell-tale click.

Forty-two.

At least Ray had quieted down. He could only listen through the stethoscope with one ear because the other still held the comm, and he needed it in case of emergency warnings.

Click.

Sixty-nine.

His comm crackled.

“Hurry up, asshole. Activity down the block is getting suspicious.”

The timing was perfect as he slid right past the last number, resetting the safe. He closed his eyes and thought of happy things to bury the urge to strangle the idiot. Happy thoughts, like rainbows and bunnies and pranking Gavin. Like Ray finally fucking off again.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Ray continued, and Trevor rolled his eyes. 42-69- and… “Like, what fucking skills do you even bring to the table if it takes this long to open a safe? Bet even I would be done by now. Jesus.”

Yeah, right.

“Shut up, will you?” he hissed, words bubbling up his throat. All the things he bit back while Ray kept insulting him and everyone he loved.

There was a noise in the room next door, reminding Trevor why he couldn’t talk back right now. He shut his mouth and swallowed down the words wanting to burst forth. Give Ray a taste of his own medicine. All you’re good for is staying the fuck away, dickhead.

The dial ticked past ten, nine, eight without the tumbler locking into place.

Trevor could take the high road here, be the better person. Let Ray’s remarks bounce off, like water off the duck’s back. Wait out the heist and Ray’s inevitable departure. Infamous wanderlust kicking in, or whatever drove him away the first time. Ryan no longer reason enough to stay.

He could. He wasn’t really feeling it, though.

Five, four, three, two - click. The tumbler locked into place and the safe swung open. Inside were stacks upon stacks of files and one expensive gold watch. Trevor pocketed the watch and started rifling through the files. Contracts, proposals, business plans, more contracts - there, a folder full of blackmail. Photos and transcripts and copies of emails. Trevor shoved all of them into his backpack, to be sorted later. Who knew what might come in handy.

“Finally. Are you done? Jesus Christ, no wonder they don’t let you out without a babysitter.”

So. He was watching him. And while Trevor couldn’t talk back, not without giving himself away to whoever else was running around in this building, there were other things he could do to remind Ray of what he thought of him. To remind Ray of where his place was (as far away from Ryan as Trevor could swing it).

He took a deep breath. He’s just jealous, he reminded himself. Jealous that Trevor had Ryan’s trust and affection where Ray lost both. His own damn fault, too. He pried his fingers from the files, one by one, and dropped them in his bag. He had what he came for. Now it was up to Matt to destroy all electronic back-ups and they had their in with the bank.

Trevor could be the better person here.

He really should.

Instead he sauntered up to the window, making sure to sway his hips as he walked. He leaned in, staring up at the roof he knew Ray laid down on. If he squinted he could barely make out the dark shape between the chimney and the distributor box. So Ray thought he could get away with insulting him and Ryan and the crew just because Trevor couldn’t talk back - well, he thought wrong. Trevor exhaled, letting the glass fog over. Then he drew a heart into the condensation, just like that day Ray watched him, them, and winked. A reminder.

The reaction was instantaneous.

One second he was dragging his finger over the window pane, the next glass exploded. A hole appeared, cracks running through the pane under his hand. Ears ringing, Trevor turned to look over his shoulder. There, in the back wall of the safe, stuck something dark, gunmetal. A bullet. It had missed him by a handwidth, trajectory from across the street…

No. Not missed. That shot was deliberate.

A warning.

Heart pounding, Trevor looked back at the roof where he knew the sniper was. Knew who shot at him.

Voices from down the hall tore Trevor from his shock, forced him into action. The rifle was silenced, but a sniper at this close range still left quite the gunshot sound. Harder to pinpoint where, exactly, but if they heard the glass shatter, or the bullet hit the wall-

Good thing he had everything he needed from this place. Trevor hurried to pull on his backpack, securing it around his waist with a belt. The bullet was stuck inside the safe, the metal dented around it, which at least meant it’d remain hidden until they thought to check. There was no time for Trevor to hide their traces, and the hole in the window was hard to cover up. Unless...

Footsteps in the hallway. There was no way he’d make it to the bathroom down the hall and up into the vents in time. Trevor glanced back at the window, considered the spider web of cracks. Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. He grabbed one of the chairs and smashed the window in.

His comm buzzed in his ear, followed by Ray’s too calm voice.

“Blazes are on the move. I count at least nine. You better hurry out of there.”

“Working on it,” Trevor snapped back, letting the chair clatter to the ground and climbing into the broken window frame. The voices in the hallway became agitated, loud. Too close. Trevor ignored them, dropping out of sight, thankful for the gloves preventing the glass shards from digging into his palms as he held onto the bottom of the frame. A quick look around - he was close to the corner of the building, facing the street, and the drain pipe ran down to his right. Just had to get to it without falling down five floors.

Shouting echoed down the streets, then gunfire. Oh, that wasn’t good.

The retort of a silenced sniper followed, louder than the pistols. The gunfire stopped and Trevor took his chance to swing over to the next window, fingers digging into the ledge. One down, two more to go. Two more sniper shots, then the gunfire resumed, but Trevor had no time to check on the situation. The last window ledge was slippery wet, and Trevor’s fingers started sliding off immediately. So he kept swinging and with one last, desperate lunge he hit the drain pipe full force, managing to wrap one of his legs around it, fingers scrabbling for anything to hold on to. He slipped down nearly a floor before he got a proper grip.

“Shit.” There was rustling on the other end of the comm. “Gotta abandon my perch, they made me.”

“Oh yeah, go right ahead. Go on without me, I’ll be fine. Not like I’m a sitting duck or anything,” Trevor snarked, clenching his knees around the pipe. Here was to hoping it’d hold his weight.

“Don’t tempt me, Collins.”

Ray’s voice was a quiet hiss, almost drowned out by the blood rushing through Trevor’s ears. He slid down the pipe bit by bit, swallowing the curses bubbling up in his throat as the rings and nails scraped over his thighs and the inside of his arms. That was gonna be fun later - if he made it out of here alive, that was.

He made it all the way down to the second story when the Blazes caught up with him, waiting at the bottom of the pipe, guns raised. There were four of them, less than half of the group Ray reported earlier. The rest must have gone after the sniper, and for a hot second Trevor felt a weird combination of relief (less goons for me to worry about), spiteful satisfaction (serves him right) and concern (he better make it out of this alive or else).

Trevor glanced around, considering his options. There was a dumpster in the alley he’d first entered from, but that was on the other side of the building and the Blazes might open fire if he started swinging around the corner. A warning shot shattered the window next to him, and he gave the shooter an exasperated look. That really wasn’t necessary. He eyed the asphalt, trying to gauge how much it’d hurt. If he slid down another story, use one of the Blazes to soften his fall…

It’d still be one against three, four as soon as the one he landed on recovered. Not a feasible plan without back-up.

Tires squealed, and Trevor’s head snapped up. Down the road a familiar car burst out of the alley he had parked it in. Wait, was Ray gonna leave with his damn car, what the fuck? But no- the car turned towards him. Smoke billowed as Ray hit the gas, wheels screeching until he stepped off the brakes and the car shot forward. The goon squad dove out of the way, and the car stopped at the bottom of the pipe, honking loud and impatient.

Trevor loosened his grip, slipped down to first story height before taking the jump, landing on the roof of the car shoulder first and rolling to the other side. The door opened before he could slide down, and Trevor swung inside, car taking off without waiting for him to close the door or put on a seat belt. Trevor unbuckled his backpack, stowing it out of the way in the foot compartment.

“You better have more than knives in here, or we’re fucked,” Ray said, voice nonchalant, but his eyes were hard behind his glasses as he gripped the steering wheel. “They’re gonna be on us in a hot second.”

Trevor glanced up in the rearview, and sure enough. The goon squad was scrambling up, breaking into a parking car, while a black van already raced down the road to catch up with them. In that same glance bright pink caught his eye, and he saw Ray’s sniper rifle thrown across the backseat, still assembled. He turned in his seat and leaned forward, pulling it up to the front.

“You mind?” he asked even as he rolled down the window - no sense in replacing the glass, if he could work around it - and leaning out the side, shouldering the rifle.

“Be my guest.”

Ray’s tone was dry, distracted. The moment the Blazes saw Trevor peak out, they opened fire, and Ray swerved to avoid the gunshots. Trevor took a deep breath, held it, and aimed. Their chances of making it out alive looked better than even moments before, and he was damned if it was him who mucked the easy mission up.

On the exhale, Trevor fired.

***

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit.

Ray slumped in his chair, arms folded across his chest, legs spread as if he was at ease. His face was a carefully blank mask devoid of emotions.

Fuck.

He fucked up. He fucking went and straight up fucked up. Better yet, he knew he was fucking things up and yet he went ahead and did it anyway.

So much for professionalism.

So much for control.

The door opened and Geoff walked in, carrying a stack of files. Trevor followed close on his heels, pulling the door shut behind them. Neither of them acknowledged Ray. Trevor picked the closest chair by the door, so reminiscent of Ryan that last meeting, Ray’s chest tightened. Geoff meanwhile dropped his files on the table, the thud they made echoing like a death knell in the silent room, and sat down at the head, facing them both. His expression was serious, mouth a thin line and brow furrowed.

Fuck. He knew.

Trevor must have pulled Geoff aside before the meeting, told him how their little mission came close to failing. How everything went downhill because Ray couldn’t keep his temper in check, stop long enough for logic to prevail. Too secure in his knowledge that Trevor’s hands were bound by circumstance, feeling too satisfied with every bit of vitriol dropping from his lips.

Venting all his misplaced frustration at an easy target and thinking he got away with it.

But oh, he hadn’t counted on Trevor being clever. A simple gesture, a quick reminder of what he’d witnessed earlier that week. Safe in the knowledge of who truly held Ryan’s affection, he stayed cool under the onslaught of Ray’s pointed insults. Shut him up with that singular action, provoked Ray’s temper. And Ray, taken aback by this unexpected event, had let himself be provoked. Worse, he escalated the situation. Finger already on the trigger, waiting, forever waiting, and he’d pulled.

He endangered not only Trevor and himself, but the whole crew and this heist. In one thoughtless, angry reaction he lost everything.

Just like he lost Ryan two years ago.

They’re going to ask me to leave. Tell me I’m no longer welcome. Take back every invitation, every line of communication. Gavin’s going to toss his burner phone the minute he hears, get a new one I don’t know the number of. Cut their ties to me and banish me from Los Santos, never to show my face again on the threat of death...

Geoff opened his mouth, and Ray braced for the worst.

“Well done.”

It took a moment for the words to register. Longer still for them to make sense because, what?

Geoff had to read the confusion from his face because his smile turned wry and he steepled his fingers in front of his chin, one finger curling as if to hide the amused twist of his lips.

“You got the files we needed, and you got out.” Geoff shrugged. “Bad luck the Blazes noticed you, but that’s why you were there to back Trevor up. You did your job, and you got him out. Nice work.”

He supposed he had done that, but… He knew Geoff. There was no way Geoff wouldn’t reprimand him at least, if he knew the truth. There’d be yelling, there’d be a spectacle because Geoff worried and he didn’t like anyone endangering his crew. That was the whole point of forcing him and Ryan to talk things out, wasn’t it? Ray shot Trevor a surreptitious look, wondering what he said to leave the impression everything went well. Did he leave out their entire interaction, or just the last bit of escalation? Trevor pretended to be busy rifling through the files.

Ray opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Didn’t Trevor want him gone, the sooner the better? Why hadn’t he used the situation to his advantage? Ray couldn’t have given him a better opportunity, and he’d been well within his rights to tell on Ray. No one could’ve put it down to jealousy, either. Worse, it was his duty to report hostile actions from a supposed friendly, so why hadn’t he?

Geoff was watching him with this calculating gleam in his eyes.

“With this, we’re ready to pull the heist a week early, so get everything you need in order.” Geoff glanced towards Trevor who nodded, sliding the files across the table. Then Geoff turned to Ray. “Is there anything you need beforehand?”

“I could use some more ammo,” Ray mused as if on auto-pilot, thoughts racing. “We used up most of my stock during the getaway chase.”

“Ask Jack, he’ll hook you up.”

Ray very, very carefully did not flinch at the phrasing. Geoff continued, not seeming to notice, but he could feel Trevor’s eyes on him. He glanced up, caught his gaze. He couldn’t get a read on him, the intensity of his stare raising the hairs on the back of his neck. It felt like Trevor saw right through him, knew all his secrets, everything Ray desperately tried to hide.

What did he see in Ray’s face? In his careful non-reaction? What was he planning?

Why hadn’t he told Geoff?

Trevor raised an eyebrow - a challenge, a dare, and all Ray felt in turn was confusion. Trevor had said it himself, he wanted Ray gone from the city, far away from the crew and, more importantly, Ryan. Was he trying to tell Ray he had dirt on him now, to watch himself? But why blackmail him when it was a much easier, neater solution to have him removed from the board entirely?

It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

“While you’re at it, check in with Jack if we need you for anything the rest of the week, he’s coordinating between teams.” Geoff picked up the files and, keeping a loose hold on them, let them drop on the table, straightening them out with a couple thuds. “Good job, both of you. I’ll see you Thursday. Dismissed.”

Trevor was out the door before Ray stood up from his chair, silent on his feet and gone like the wind. Ray bit the inside of his cheek, glanced at Geoff who was fussing with the files. Thought about bringing up what happened himself, face the music before it bit him in the ass, but…

He fucked up, and for some reason, Trevor hadn’t hung him dry. Until he found out why… well. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides, whatever Trevor was plotting, if he didn’t even tell Geoff- It might not be for the good of the crew. Did they really know Trevor? He was still a relatively new hire, about two and some years later. Could he be trusted? Ray certainly didn’t think so, and with how close to Ryan he was… it was Ray’s job to keep them safe from a distance, wasn’t it?

The excuse sounded hollow, in light of everything that happened, but it was enough for him. Any excuse to stick around longer was good enough in his book.

***

Ryan hadn’t said a word since he helped Trevor peel off the pants sticking to his skin with sweat and blood. He shoved him onto the couch when they pooled around his feet, glaring when Trevor tried to stand back up once he pulled them off. Trevor raised his hands in surrender, a half-amused quirk of his lips hiding the churning guilt in his stomach while Ryan vanished into their bathroom and returned with the first aid kit.

“I’m fine, Ryan,” Trevor tried to reassure him, but Ryan ignored him, snapping the case open.  

The silent treatment wasn’t unusual. Ryan tended to have a hard time putting his worries into words, especially in the face of the evidence he wasn’t worried for nothing. They got stuck in his dry throat, he’d once explained after they’d gotten into a fight over it. His hands were gentle as he pulled Trevor’s legs into his lap, dousing a bit of cotton in antiseptic and wiping down his wounds.

His inner thighs were scattered with burning welts and red scratches, some of them still bleeding. None of it hurt worse than his aching shoulder, but Trevor wasn’t going to tell Ryan about that bit of stupidity. It’s what he got for deciding to jump from that high onto a car and landing shoulder first. Nothing was broken, at least, Caleb had scanned it before letting him report to Geoff.

“It’s just some bruises, Ryan, I’ll be fine.”

Ryan lifted his head, meeting Trevor’s eyes, his glare speaking for itself. Trevor sighed, dropping his head back down on the armrest. Ryan’s fingers were gentle, just firm enough to apply first the antiseptic, then the anti-scarring salve. At least none of the bullets left visible wounds on him, he mused. Ryan would’ve flipped. Luckily, his armoured tac vest had done its job, leaving him only with a couple bruises in the chest area to tell the tale.

The cream was a cool balm on the burning welts of his skin, but stung in the scrapes and scratches. Ryan held his knee loosely as his fingers danced over the inside of his thigh, in something that had sadly no chance to become foreplay, not with Ryan in this mood. With a sigh, Trevor sank into the couch and surrendered to Ryan’s ministrations, mind racing to find a solution for getting his boyfriend out of his worry-induced funk.

“I came back home, Ryan,” he murmured, staring up at the ceiling. Fingers stopped just short of his knee, before returning to their soothing rubbing motion. “I always come back. I promised, after all.”

He lifted his head and tried to catch Ryan’s eyes, whose downward gaze was focussed on his work. Trevor nudged him in the stomach with his free knee until he looked up and locked eyes with him. There was a glittering wetness in Ryan’s gaze, there and gone between two rapid blinks. Guilt twisted in Trevor’s stomach, even as his rage surged. That fear, that trauma- those were the scars Ray left when he discarded Ryan for whatever the fuck he was out there doing. Wanderlust, Jack had suggested.

Unacceptable, Trevor called it.

“What happened?” Ryan asked, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, the words a low rasp. Trevor reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Broke into a building in the middle of Blaze territory. They objected,” he said, making sure to sound light-hearted, like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t.

“They noticed?” Ryan’s tone turned sharp, his fingers digging less than gentle into Trevor’s thigh. Trevor tugged on Ryan’s wrist, calling his attention to what he was doing. Instantly, his grip loosened.

“I’m fine, Ryan,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Ray got me out and I came home only with a couple scratches. Caleb checked me over before the debrief, I’m fine. Really.”

There was no way he would tell Ryan about Ray’s actions prior to that. They were just words, really, and he had missed Trevor. No harm, no foul, no need for Ryan to twist himself up more over his ex. Besides, tattling on Ray meant coming clean about his own deeds and what he’d done to provoke him. Trevor wasn’t kidding himself: if he told, Ray had nothing to lose by sharing the rest of the truth.

And anyway, Trevor tried not to lie to his boyfriend too often. Not about the important things. Better to not say anything and omit it ever happened.

Guilt twinged in his stomach. In hindsight he knew it was wrong, seducing Ryan into sex in front of his ex, with him not knowing Ray was watching. He’d abused Ryan’s trust, hadn’t asked for him to consent to a scene Ryan didn’t have a clue was happening. Did it make him a bad person, still getting off to it? Trevor was well aware of his exhibitionist streak, but he was just as aware of Ryan’s boundaries in that regard. He made a mistake in the excitement of getting back at Ray. And now he had to make sure Ryan never found out.

“Ray?” Ryan’s voice took on a questioning lilt, soft and foreboding. His fingers stilled, and then he pulled his hand away from under Trevor’s.

Trevor’s mind screeched to a halt, before his brain reengaged and thoughts raced ahead. Had he said something he shouldn't?

“Yes?” He glanced up at Ryan from under his lashes, trying to glean his mood, but he was hard to read. Trevor kept talking, trying to figure out where things went sideways. “He was my sniper backup on the job?”

“I thought you were heading out with Mica,” Ryan said, more statement than question. An accusation, almost.

Oh, shit.

“I, uh, was. Supposed to, anyway.” He’d been so preoccupied with what not to tell him, he forgot to mention that change of plans. Forgot to account for how it would upset Ryan, too. “She got held up by the cops. Ray had to jump in.”

If it weren’t for Trevor’s legs in his lap, Ryan would be pacing by now. Trevor could feel the tension shiver through him, saw his biceps flex, his hands clench and unclench. Trevor cleared his throat.

“She’s fine, Jack bailed her out. But, uh. Too late for our job, so they called him in.”

“You… He-” Ryan broke off, struggling with his words. His face twisted into a scowl, and he looked away. Trevor grimaced, reaching out for him. He hesitated, stopping just short of touch, before dropping his hand.

“He got me out. Stole my car while he was at it, too, the bastard,” Trevor joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, putting on a bright smile. Ryan just turned to stare at him, face a blank mask. Trevor’s smile dropped and he sighed. “Look, he’s not like my favourite person of the year, and I’d really rather not work with him again, but. He did get me out. So there’s that.”

Ryan kept staring at him, the silence stretching between them. Trevor held his breath, not daring to move while Ryan came to a decision. Then Ryan lifted Trevor’s legs from his lap and stood, and Trevor's heart jumped into his throat.

“Ryan-”

“No, you’re right.” He turned his back on Trevor, fiddling with the first aid kit. The snap of shutting the case closed echoed through the silent room. “My baggage shouldn’t drag you down. You’re not the one who has… issues… about Ray being here.”

Trevor’s heart plummeted all the way from his throat into his stomach, to join the twisted knot of guilt already settled there.

“Ryan… I...”

“No.” Ryan shook his head, still not looking at Trevor. He took a deep, audible breath, before letting the air hiss out through his nose. “No. I’m glad you two worked well together. This- this thing between me and Ray… it shouldn’t affect you.”

The guilt twisted around his heart and pulled taut. Maybe he should tell Ryan, after all. Whatever his reaction to Trevor’s… pettiness had to be better than this resigned, silent suffering. Let him know that he was right to be mad at Ray, right to cling to his grudge. Ray was a piece of shit with a stunning lack of respect for boundaries. He couldn’t let Ryan go on and think that Ray got better, that Ray knew how to behave professionally.

Trevor opened his mouth and hesitated.

If he told him now… what would it help? Ryan was already twisting himself into further and further knots over Ray, and whatever led up to their big break-up. Knowing that Ray was still the same asshole, just as angry, just as furious… the knowledge would only be a knife to a still healing wound. It wasn’t like Ryan could change things, even if he confronted Ray about his behaviour. Trevor chose not to tell Geoff for a reason.

And if he came clean now, about how Trevor lied to him… how he kept Ray’s presence during what should have been a private moment secret- Ryan wouldn’t be able to trust him either, would be truly afloat in his anguish. No, better Ryan knew he could come to Trevor for comfort.

So he closed his mouth and kept his silence.

***

And then it was time. The day of their bank heist arrived.

Ray was checking and double-checking his rifle and ammunition, the hand-gun strapped to his hip and the knife hidden at the small of his back. He declined wearing the armoured vests the rest of the crew was putting on since he’d be too far from the action for that to help and it’d restrict his movements too much.

Mica found him on the stairs to the roof. She would join Jack in the chopper and let him drop her off on her chosen nest, while Ray would hitch a ride with the crew, climbing up the fire escape of his appointed building. A bit more of a workout, but worth it for the stealth and escape route it provided, in Ray’s opinion.

Mica was decked out in tactical gear: grey camo pants and top hidden behind a lightly armoured, black vest, and a belt full of pouches and a carabiner hook slung around her hips. Her sniper rifle rested on her back, already assembled. It made sense for her position, she wouldn’t have time on the roof. Her arrival would be loud, a signal, and her only way out was through Jack’s chopper. The quicker she got in and out, the better. She wouldn’t need to hide her rifle or blend in if things went wrong, not like Ray.

Mica clearly knew what she was doing. Ray approved.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Mica said. She stopped in front of the stairs, crossing her arms with a fierce scowl on her face. Ray startled, looking up from his bag check.

“Pardon?”

“I know what you’re doing, asshole, and I’m not gonna sit by idle and just let you.”

Ray’s mouth felt dry, and he stared at her in silence, taking in the fury blazing in brown eyes. Did Trevor talk, after all? But no, Geoff hadn’t said anything. Ray doubted he’d still be greenlit for today’s heist if news got out. Was Mica close to Trevor? Did he tell only her? Why wasn’t she telling Geoff, then, instead of confronting him about it?

“I heard what you did.” She jabbed her finger at him, long nail poking his chest. “Listen up, buddy, I earned my place fair and square, I’m not gonna give it up easy.”

“I’m sure you have,” Ray said and meant it, but by the way Mica’s eyes narrowed he assumed he sounded sarcastic again. Better try again. “Geoff doesn’t hire amateurs. You’ve been on the team for, what, two years now?”

“Two and a half,” she corrected him, mouth twisting into a frown. “Which might not be as long as you were before you left, but I’ve proven myself. I’m the Fake’s sniper now.”

“Yes?” Ray blinked, still unsure where she was going with this. “Of course you are.”

“So don’t think I’m gonna let you get away with it.” Mica flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, the gesture snappish, impatient. “You only got that job because I was held up by the pigs. I could’ve gotten Trevor out of there just as easy.”

“Probably, yeah.” Likely even without alerting the Blazes and the consequent car chase, but he decided not to point that out. It seemed less and less likely that Trevor talked to her. Something else was afoot.

Mica continued to glower at him. “I’m watching you, Narvaez. I’m onto you.”

With one last shove at his chest she breezed past him, stomping up the stairs in her combat boots. Ray stared after her, more confused than before.

“Hey, Ray!” Gavin popped up at the bottom of the stairs, startling Ray. He gave him a curious look, glancing up as the roof access door slammed shut behind Mica. “What was that all about?”

“Not a damn clue,” Ray admitted, shaking his head.

Gavin hummed, his piercing gaze settling on Ray. He seemed to read something into the situation, but didn’t say anything. Ray raised a brow at him, waited a moment, then shrugged. Gavin would tell him later, if it was important.

“You ready to go?” he asked instead, zipping his bag shut and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Jeremy and Jack are driving. You good to join Michael-boi and me in Jeremy’s? We’d be the ultimate lads car!”

A smile tugged on the corners of Ray’s mouth. “Sure. Sounds good to me.”

Jeremy, it turned out, was dressed in an orange and purple outfit, fiddling with a purple hockey mask. Ray had heard of Rimmy Tim before, of course, but seeing him in action was… weird. Especially since he’d worn that purple mask himself before on a heist or two.

Jeremy and Jack were talking, waiting in the garage by two black, unmarked vans. Michael joined them just as Gavin pulled Ray over.

“Nice jacket, dude,” Ray drawled in greeting, and Jeremy lit up.

“Nice hoodie,” he quipped back, grin widening at Gavin’s dawning look of horror.

“Ray, no,” he squeaked, grabbing his arm urgently. “Don’t encourage him, Ray.”

Ray raised an eyebrow at Gavin before meeting Jeremy’s eyes, glinting with mischief.

“Team Purple?”

“Team Purple Lads,” Jeremy agreed. Michael snort.

“More like Short and Purple.”

Ray hummed as if in thought. “We could get purple shorts?”

“No,” Gavin moaned, hiding his face in his hands. “No, I refuse. I’m putting my foot down. No.”

Everyone laughed, Michael and Jack joining in to tease Gavin. Ray chuckled, relaxing at the familiar banter, his gaze trailing over to the elevator as it arrived. Geoff stepped out in a three-piece suit, all done up with black tie. Only the lines of an armoured vest under his dress shirt gave away the very different occasion. But what drew Ray’s eye was the man shadowing him. Black pants and dark leather jacket with a tell-tale blue and white stripe, Ryan looked… good.

Ray swallowed, turning his gaze away when Ryan looked in his direction.

His face was different. The skull painted its usual grotesque grimace, but it wasn’t the one Ray knew. Gone was the blood red paint which used to dominate the pattern. Instead a delicate black and white skull remained, thinning down as it reached his lips and leaving his jaw paint-free. The change surprised Ray, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. It had been years since he helped Ryan paint his face for a job, after all.

It still hurt, this evidence of change.

They piled into the cars, Ray up front with Jeremy, while Michael and Gavin slipped into the back. The gents clambered into the other van, joined by Trevor and another new hire who looked like his twin.

Just another difference among many.

The ride was loud and boisterous, the banter flowing easily between the other three lads, but Ray remained silent, gaze drawn to the van in front of them until they split to drop Ray off. Michael and Gavin didn’t seem to notice his mood, used to his silences when it came to a job, and Jeremy took his cue from them. Ray was as grateful as he was disappointed. The long way up the fire escape gave him time to gather his thoughts and banish them to the back of his mind. Mission first.

Taking a deep breath, Ray settled down on the rooftop with his pink sniper rifle, sighting down through the scope. The chopper circled around the Maize Bank, hovering across from him and to the left to drop off Mica. Two unmarked black vans pulled up to the bank’s entrance, parking haphazardly in the middle of the walkway, providing future cover from fire. The crew filed out from the backs, pulling on hockey masks as they went. All but one figure that is. Ryan cut a familiar silhouette in his Vagabond getup, and Ray lingered on him longer than healthy.

Then he swallowed and focussed on Geoff’s giddy voice in his ear, reassuring in its familiarity. He tore his sight away, checking the streets.

“Alright, fuckers, you better be ready!” Geoff cackled, and Ray couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Leeeeet’s heist!”

*

***

*