~*~and i am done with my graceless heart, so tonight i'm gonna cut it out and then restart~*~

(so i like to keep my issues drawn, but it's always darkest before the dawn)

pairing: ryan hardy/mike weston

fandom: the following

rating: t

and i'm ready to suffer and i'm ready to hope/it's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat

'shake it out' – acapella version as sung by naya rivera, amber riley and jenna ushkowitz – santana, mercedes and tina from glee

It happens slowly [waking up], and then it's like it happens all at once; the world rushing back to him, the memories of the pipe to his gut, the weak feeling from the blood loss, the ache of the bruises and the cuts and the distant rasps of, "Come on. Stay with me buddy."

"Whoa, whoa," Strong, calloused hands grip his shoulders, pushing him back to the less than comfortable pillows of his hospital bed. "Lay back for a second."

"Don't you think I've done enough lying back?" Mike wants it to come out like a demand, harsh and tough, but it's weak and barely above a whisper; his throat so dry from being silent for God only knows how long.

"Drink."

Instead of shoving the plastic cup at him like Mike expects Hardy to do, he leans over the bed, bringing the cup as close to his mouth as he can and tips the straw. He can't stop himself from blinking and cocking his head curiously in a silent question.

"What?" Hardy's tone is defensive. "You can barely move. The last thing you need is to pop a stitch drinking some damn water. We need you back in the field ASAP."

"Yeah?" He hates how he sounds like an eager puppy.

"Don't act like some wet behind the ears kid." Hardy rolls his eyes. "You know Parker and I think you belong on this task force. If you hadn't proved it already, you did when you got the crap beat out of you because you wouldn't reveal Claire's location to Joe's followers."

"Just doing my job."

"Getting the crap beat out of you and almost dying, is not doing your job. Jesus Christ, Weston," Hardy growls, pushing his fingers through his short dark blonde hair. "You're not Superman. Don't go sacrificing yourself, all right? If anyone should be sacrificing themselves for this case, it's me."

"You know this – what happened to me – isn't your fault, don't you?" Mike doesn't know why, but he can't stop himself from reaching for Hardy's hand. It's warm, rough and calloused, and he has to swallow; it feels good, his skin on Hardy's, the contrast of his pale to the older man's tan.

"Don't start." Hardy remarks gruffly.

"I'm only telling you the truth. Not everything that happens with this case is your fault. And you don't have to assuage your guilt – or perceived guilt, anyway – by sitting at my bedside. I know this wasn't your fault. I chose to face the consequences head on of not telling Roderick where Claire's location was. I wanted her to stay safe as much as you."

"Who says I'm here because I feel guilty? What are you? A shrink now?"

"Why else would you be here?"

Mike can't help but notice Hardy hasn't pushed his hand away. His broader – but not by much – pale hand is still on top of the other man's tan. He feels his cheeks heat up when he catches the older man's steel cut blue eyes. He has to swallow; the intensity in the opaque orbs cutting straight through and making his veins burn, like they always do.

There's a faint squeeze of his fingers before Hardy slides his long fingers into the grooves of his shorter ones. "Just thought someone should be here when you woke up, that's all."

"And that someone was you?"

"Who else? Parker?"

"I dunno." Mike ducks his head, suddenly feeling shy. "I just," He slips his hand out from the older man's and picks at the pelts of his hospital blanket. "Didn't think it'd be you, that's all. Not that I mind. Cause I don't."

"Thanks for clearing that up." Hardy remarks sardonically. "I thought you were on your way to offending me, and we both know how sensitive I am."

"Did you just make a joke?"

"Savor it. It won't happen again. Rest up, all right? You gotta get yourself right before your cleared to be back in the field, and with that guy from DC – Young – hovering over every part of the investigation now, Parker and I could use an ally."

"You don't have to keep me out of the loop because I'm going to be on desk duty for the foreseeable future. I can help out however you need me to. I'm not useless."

"Never said you were. Just said that you had to get yourself right."

It's hard for Mike not to notice the sinewy play of Hardy's lithe muscles underneath his rumpled dress shirt and the way his black pants hug his rear. Swallowing, he takes another drink, throat [suddenly] dry for other reasons.

He knows he shouldn't be going down this road – crushing on a superior agent – especially Ryan Hardy who has more baggage than an airport, but this kind of stuff – crushes and whatever – they're not logical. They just are.

And seeing those intense steel cut blue eyes when he first woke up, didn't help him in pushing those feelings as far down as he could.

"Thanks," His voice is slightly strangled, more from nerves than of not being used for a long period of time. "For staying. And for being here when I woke up."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else." There's a hint of a smile on the older man's lips, one that makes Mike's stomach flip flop.

It also makes him want to have the courage to flirt. But flirting with Ryan Hardy is more dangerous than not telling Joe Carroll's followers his ex-wife's location in WITSEC.

That doesn't mean Mike's completely given up on the idea of testing the waters, of seeing just how Hardy would respond to him, of hoping that the older handsome world-weary man would want him.

Because – oh – does he want him.

Soundtrack: 'shake it out' originally by florence + the machine, but as sung by naya rivera, amber riley and jenna ushkowitz of glee