There were broad grins and ecstatic laughter all round as Geoff expertly poured honey coloured whiskey into glasses, handing one to each member of the Fake AH Crew (sans Ryan and Ray, who opted for Diet Coke and Dr Pepper respectively). They'd successfully completed another heist, so the celebration was mandatory – although it wasn't like any of them ever needed an excuse to celebrate.
Geoff found himself smiling as he caught Ryan's eye. The two of them would be celebrating in a far more private way later; the quirk of Ryan's lip assured Geoff of that. It was the one thing that hadn't changed since the forming of the Fake AH Crew. If Geoff was honest, he was pleased about that. Don't get him wrong, he was practically the proud dad of the crew, but he couldn't help but find himself reminiscing fondly during moments alone with Ryan.
Geoff clinked his glass with Jack's – who made a small toast, thanking Geoff for having such a badass plan – then he relaxed into the couch, glad that he'd nabbed the end seat purely for the fact that Ryan had sat next to him, and he cast his mind back all those years to when it was just him and Ryan. No fancy getaway vehicles, no scores with 6-digit figures, no vast array of weaponry at their fingertips; just the two of them working like clockwork together in order to steal enough money from a small convenience store so they could afford takeaways and a motel for the next few days.
The two seldom spoke of the times before the Fake AH Crew was formed. Not because they had bad memories of it, but because those few years when it was just Geoff and Ryan against the world were almost private.
Geoff could vividly remember the first night they had fallen into bed together, a whirlwind of unspoken passion and emotion hidden behind the needy kisses and the closeness they both craved. It had been after a heist that was admittedly a bit too big for the two of them to take on alone, but their plan had played out perfectly until a point where it was either do something stupid and risk their lives or abandon it and flee.
Ryan had decided to do something stupid.
He stepped out and sprinted through the spray of bullets sent his way by the congregation of cops so he could grab the duffel bag stuffed with money. Once the bag was in his hand, he fired back at the police with his pistol (it was almost laughable compared to the cops' rifles and shotguns) as he dodged and weaved his way to the car.
"You fucking idiot, you could've gotten yourself killed!" Geoff's face was crimson with fury and he slammed his foot down on the accelerator in anger, not waiting for Ryan to clip his seatbelt on before he did so. "Don't you ever do anything like that again, you hear me?!" His voice was cracking with emotion, and he was sure it was due to the nauseating concoction of fear and frustration that Ryan was so willing to risk his life for however much money they'd managed to get away with.
Geoff took Ryan's silence as agreement, but the hint of something else in the air was heavy and Ryan thankfully didn't comment on it.
His lips quirked upwards in a smirk of clarity barely seconds after they crossed the threshold of their dingy and freezing cold motel room; it was hard not to understand when Geoff's lips were pressing insistently against Ryan's and his warm hands were skilfully unzipping Ryan's leather jacket and sliding up his shirt.
Geoff couldn't lose Ryan. He meant far too much to him and although he didn't particularly understand what those feelings meant, he knew that he wasn't objecting to whatever it was. As long as it meant Geoff could pull Ryan closer to share his warmth and intimate conversation when the nights in the chilling motels were too cold for sleep, as well as having the ability to fall into bed with him when a different kind of closeness was desired, Geoff didn't care.
For a few days after, Geoff put off planning any more heists for fear that his attachment to Ryan would result in nothing good; but when Ryan tugged on his mask and dragged Geoff into the car before driving to a corner shop a few miles down the road, all worries vanished. All that mattered was keeping them both alive whilst escaping with the $327 they'd found in the cash register and the $20 from the cashier's pockets after Ryan put a bullet between the man's eyes.
(In Ryan's defence, the cashier had tried to call the police after refusing to hand over the money.)
After that, Geoff's worries dissipated. He was no longer concerned about their involvement with each other interfering with their criminal work because, if anything, it did nothing but strengthen their relationship. Geoff learned more about Ryan's body and how it worked, when he was likely to take cover to reload and when Geoff needed to take over from driving for a while.
Meanwhile, Ryan learnt similar things about Geoff; he was more aware of what kinds of shots Geoff was likely to make so he could shoot the cops Geoff wasn't going for. They covered more ground and they worked together like one fluid entity.
The transition from cheap, damp and cold motels to ones with hot water and no mould on the walls was a slow but sure one. Along with that, their range of guns widened and the scores from their heists grew from a couple of hundred dollars to a couple of thousand dollars. Sometimes they even managed to snag a couple of hundred thousand dollars.
The one constant was their relationship.
When their team of two turned into a crew of six, Geoff was thankful when nobody questioned why there were only five bedrooms in the crew's base, and that nobody gave a second glance to Ryan and himself when the two retreated to be alone. Sometimes it was to their bedroom where they wouldn't emerge until the next day, but sometimes it was to the wooden bench in the garden where they would talk until the sun came up – they'd exchange worries, have nostalgic discussions, and sometimes they'd just spill as much of their innermost thoughts as possible. Although there wasn't much they didn't know about each other, they both relished in being able to retell their favourite stories and comfort each other when discussing things from their past that still bothered them.
And as Geoff watched Michael, Lindsay, Jack, Ray and Gavin boot up the Xbox to play a round of something (if Ray had a say in their choice of game – and he usually did – it would probably be Super Smash Bros), he patted Ryan on the leg before letting his hand linger for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he stood up, downed his whiskey and headed for the bedroom without needing to look back to know that Ryan was following him.
