"Oh Mike," Ryan sighs with traces of defeat in his voice. He can't think of anything else to say because he knows all too well how painful this situation is. He just tries to make calm shushing noises and gathers Mike in his arms.
Mike's body shakes as he cries and he goes from keeping his arms clutched protectively around himself to grabbing Ryan's jacket and burying his face in it. Ryan holds him tighter and his mind is a whirlwind of worry. Mike has been precariously close to the ledge lately, and this may just be the final breaking point. Ryan knows that if Max had been killed too he would be out there, running through the streets like a crazed animal and looking for one of those damn cult members to beat into a bloody, whimpering mess.
An acidic taste of fear works its way into Ryan's mouth at the thought that if he lets Mike go, then Mike will surely be the one rampaging through the night, looking for a fight. The day has been all too taxing on everyone and Ryan just wants to keep his friend safe for as long as he can...even if it's just for tonight.
"Mike, hey. Let's get out of here, ok?" Ryan says and stands up, hauling Mike up with him. The younger man doesn't protest; he doesn't even make a sound except for his wracked breathing and the occasional sniffle.
Ryan drives them both back to his place and when they arrive he has a text from Max telling him to "take care of that kid, whatever he needs." His heart pinches again at the thought that Max's fate could have been much worse this night than it was. He looks over at Mike who is sitting silently now, face pressed against the window. Ryan gets out of the car and goes over to open Mike's door, half dragging him out of the vehicle. He half expects Mike to protest, but the look in the FBI agent's eyes is one of defeat, at least for tonight. Ryan knows that look won't last long before it turns into the thirst of revenge. He knows that taste all too well himself.
"C'mon, let's get you inside. You should sleep," Ryan says. Mike doesn't say a word until Ryan has steered him into his bedroom and sat him down on the bed.
Mike asks quietly, "Where are you going?" and Ryan stops, looking at his friend again. He thinks those big blue eyes of Mike could stop a war from happening, they're so innocent. And beautiful.
Ryan shakes his head wondering where the hell that thought came from. "I'll sleep on the couch, let me know if you need anything."
"It's your bed, Ryan."
"Just try and get some sleep, ok?" Ryan says, hesitating by the door.
"I don't…" Mike starts to say, blue eyes looking down to the floor. "I don't really want to be alone right now." He sighs heavily, toes off his shoes and sits back on one side of the bed. He looks back up at Ryan and glances shyly to the other side. "It's your bed," he repeats.
Ryan's brain finally starts working again and he realizes this is Mike asking him to stay, to sit beside him and give him comfort. These are things Ryan thought about asking Mike before, but never dared to say the words aloud. He nods slowly and sits beside Mike, imitating his posture of sitting back against the headboard.
"Does it ever stop?" Mike asks, eyes staring straight ahead. "The pain? I feel like my lungs are drowning, Ryan. It hurts to breathe and I—" A sob takes over Mike's words and Ryan is there in a second, taking his friend in his arms.
"I know," Ryan whispers, running his hand through Mike's hair. "We'll get her, Mike. We'll get them all and we will stop this." Ryan makes this promise to Mike and for the first time he is overcome to stop this cult madness for someone else since Claire died. His motivations have gone beyond revenge for his own sake. He vows to bring peace to Mike if it's the last thing he does, and his heart feels like it will burst with the cocktail of emotions swimming through him.
He realizes Mike has stopped crying and he looks down to see those big blue eyes staring up at him.
"Ryan," Mike whispers, bringing his face closer. "I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling like a ticking time bomb and the only time the rage I feel is quiet, is…"
"Is what?"
"Is when I'm with you, and we're just…hanging out or talking. When we aren't doing the FBI thing," Mike says. Ryan doesn't know for sure if Mike is confessing to what it sounds like he does…like he has a craving for closeness that goes beyond their friendship. Ryan's questions are quieted when he feels the light press of lips to his own. He has to look at Mike to make sure he didn't just imagine the ghostly touch.
Mike is staring back with wide eyes, a thousand questions running through the sea of his eyes. Ryan quiets those questions by pulling Mike closer to him, and he kisses Mike back. He feels the younger man sigh into the kiss, as if something could finally be simple for once. The shy pressing of lips turns to something more heated with the mingling of tongues and Mike pulls Ryan down until Mike is straddling Ryan's hips. Ryan feels Mike run his tongue across Ryan's lips and then gently bite his lower lip.
When they finally gasp for air Ryan feels the frantic fingertips of Mike trying to undo Ryan's belt.
"Whoa, Mike stop," Ryan says and grabs Mike's hands gently. The wounded look Mike gives him is almost enough for him to let Mike carry on as he wishes. But now is not the time. Mike is hurting and if this happens he wants to know Mike wants it too and not just out of crazed grief.
"Hey," Ryan whispers. "Just come here." He holds out his arms and Mike falls into them, clutching at Ryan's sides. Ryan wraps his arms around Mike and holds him tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Mike whispers "thank you" into Ryan's ear and kisses Ryan's neck before falling asleep.
Maybe in the morning they'll figure out this new thing between them, but for now it's enough to hold each other tightly, knowing whatever comes next they will face it together.