Title: Twenty Five Things
Rating: M
Genre and/or Pairing: Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh
Spoilers: None
Warnings: slash, sex, language, violence
Word Count: 6,143, unbeta'd
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Twenty five things about Rick and Shane.
Words
Rick could never tell anyone how it felt to see his son and wife again. There weren't words. That sheer amount of relief and joy leave him breathless; he's incapable of speaking. Lori squeezes any air he has left from his lungs and Carl's solid form feels too good to be true. He has to keep cupping his face and squishing his cheeks to make sure it's all real. He never thought he'd see them again. When Lori pulls away, Rick sees Shane. Shane stands back and stays out of the way. Rick opens his mouth to speak to him and Shane gives him that small, corner-of-the-lip smile that he's missed so much and just nods. They'll share their reunion later. They don't need words.
Chandelier
The motel is in the middle of nowhere, one of those places you know the greasy truckers and corner prostitutes stopped at before taking on the rest of the night. They park and shack up for the night. Rick can't sleep and takes a walk. Shane's slouched in a stuffy, old chair in the lobby, feet propped on the coffee table and gun propped against his leg. He's gazing up at the ceiling. Rick follows his gaze to the chandelier on the ceiling. It's a decrepit thing and most of its gems have fallen off. There's melted wax crusted to the metal. The decorative pearls are chipped and turning a nasty grey. There's a gruesome beauty to it and Rick finds himself just as mesmerized by it as Shane is, wondering what it looked like when people were once continuously passing beneath it to ring the bell at the front desk, when someone painstakingly replaced the candles and washed the jewels with care. In that instant, the old rusted chain it dangles on breaks and Shane barely has time to move his legs before it explodes across the coffee table, spewing remnants about the room. Shane snorts and shakes his head, "Just like everything else. Broken."
Restrain
The others have left them to have their argument in peace. Another close call with the Walkers is enough to get someone's blood pumping – and boiling. Rick's not really sure what they're arguing about; maybe they're really just yelling because they're tired of being quiet and the steam has come to a whistling pressure that's begging to be released. There's a charged energy between them as Rick watches Shane run his hands through his hair and shouts something he can't hear because he chooses not to listen. Shane seems to realize this and takes a swing. Rick is quick to duck and they fight the way they did when they were kids on the playground; messy, sloppy and dirty, not the way the academy trained them to. But that's okay, because they need this and Rick soon has Shane restrained to the ground. Shane struggles, wrists pinned above his head, Rick's strong thighs keeping his legs barely mobile. They're breathing hard and covered in leaves and dirt and even when Shane goes limp and gives up, Rick doesn't let go. Shane gazes up at him questioningly and it's amazing how well you can know someone, how you can talk with your eyes and see things no one else can. The next thing Rick knows is he's pushing Shane's wrists harder into the ground and kissing him. Restrained to the ground, Shane kisses back hard. They kiss like they fought; messy, sloppy and dirty but that's okay because they need this – they've missed it.
Hope
Shane's never been a man of that much faith. He and Rick share this. Instead, what they share is hope. Faith means putting your all into something; your time, your strength, your effort. Faith is when you take all of you and put it into what you believe is there and be blind to anything else around you besides that one thing. Shane doesn't have faith. He refuses to because there's nothing he'd trust to put all of himself into as such. That's too risky. Hope is different. To have hope is to have something you love and cherish and see a future with it while not letting yourself get ahead of you. To have hope means you have caution. You prepare for the worst, you look for the best. You hope for it. Shane has hope because of Rick. He has hope because of them. It's the only thing that keeps him waking up and going on every day.
Alternate
There are parts of you that exist elsewhere in the universe that are created from the choices you make every day. And somewhere in one of these alternate places of existence, Rick wakes from his coma and goes searching for his family. But here, Rick's family doesn't mean Lori and Carl. No, family to Rick in this place is Carl and Shane. Somewhere along the red lines of fate that twist, snarl and snap with each path you take every day, Shane and Rick were given a chance that somewhere else, they were not. At the right moment, at the right time, it all comes out and Rick lives a life where his best friend is still his best friend, but also his lover and the man he's pledged to spend the rest of his life with. There's something that sparks in Morgan's eyes when Rick tells him that he's looking for his husband and son, but this is a time where there aren't any room for prejudices, where your only goal is to survive and make sure the ones you love the most are closer to you than ever before. When Rick finds the small camp outside of Atlanta, he feels all the air leave him when he sees Carl and Shane. The weight of his son against him is a comfort he never thought he'd be able to feel again. He looks at Shane and Shane stares at him in disbelief, like Rick will disappear if he blinks. His breath keeps hitching as he approaches and he keeps opening and closing his mouth to say words that won't come out. Rick can't wait anymore and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, drags him in and kisses him breathless.
Scar
Shane thumbs the circular, distorted scar on Rick's upper stomach. They're hot and sweaty and Shane knows that he'll be limping come tomorrow morning. He doesn't complain. It's rare they're alone like this. His finger touches the spidering criss-crosses that the impact of the bullet made, threading outward from the white puncture at the center. Shane remembers the sickening fear he felt the day Rick got shot, remembers the feel of hot blood on his fingers, and how much pain he knew Rick was in and how he wanted to take it for him because he couldn't stand the noises Rick kept making and – "Stop that." Rick knows where his head his. He pushes away his hand and Shane jerks from his daze just as Rick rolls them over, pushes him into the sleeping bag and fucks him until he can't remember anything.
Cards
Glenn has a horrible poker face; he's out in a matter of minutes. Andrea's not that good either; the cocky smirk she gets whenever she gets a good hand is a dead giveaway. T-Dogg folds not too long after Andrea is out and sits back to watch. Daryl is surprisingly lax and Dale's pretty damn good. At some point, Rick notices it's like they've formed some sort of tag-team against Shane and him, but that's a dangerous wager. Shane will tell you that he and Rick have been having full conversations with their eyes since before they even learned to talk. Rick will tell you there isn't another person who knows him better on the planet, not even his wife and that he's sure sometimes he and Shane share a brain. Shane will tell you that Rick is the rock that keeps him steady and Rick will tell you that Shane is the one that keeps his fire burning. One on one, Daryl and Dale might have had a chance if it had been just Rick or just Shane, but it's Rick and Shane. There couldn't have been a more capable team, playing cards or picking off a horde of Walkers together one by one. Daryl and Dale didn't stand a chance.
Empty
Shane hunches forward, blanket about his shoulders. His eyes feel heavy. His whole body feels heavy. He wants to sleep, but he can't. He tosses and turns, but sleep never comes. He rubs at his eyes and runs his hands tiredly over his face. He turns on the small lantern he keeps by his side and he can see his breath comes out in a gray plume. The tent is cold. It's empty, too empty. His head feels empty; light-headed and dizzy. He's not looking forward to tomorrow. Shane glances solemnly at the empty space beside him and touches it. It's still warm. Rick didn't leave long ago. Shane knows he's sleeping beside Lori, knows that Carl is probably sandwiched between them and he's here, too damn cold and too damn tired to sleep. The space beside him is too empty. Shane doesn't think he can describe the feeling in his chest to be empty as well, because there's a crushing weight on him that's making it harder and harder to breathe.
Time
Their lives have never permitted them enough time, before and after the world has gone to shit. Quick, rough fucks in the back of the squad car on duty, most of their clothes still on. Brief kisses during the Christmas parties out of sight of everyone around. An hour or two to spare when Lori goes grocery shopping and they haven't had the taste of each other in far too long. A locker room quickie at the end of shift. Hugs that last too long and a kiss that's too short after a night at the bar. A heated meeting in the woods when everyone else is asleep. Slamming each other up behind the nearest decrepit car, breathing into each other's mouths, just needing to touch what's been there all along but out of reach before someone catches them or a Walker stumbles by. Time is too short and too fast. Rick wants to feel guilty about hiding all of this from Lori, but when his fingers purposely entangle with Shane's as they take a walk about to make sure there aren't any walkers around, he really can't because the person he's so wholly in love with is standing beside him. What makes him feel guilty instead is knowing just how much Shane truly loves him – and how much he hurts him when he kisses Lori and knows he's had all the time with her and none with Shane.
Music
The music store has Rick mesmerized. They'd taken a trip into town for supplies and it's right next to the clinic they're raiding. "Not a good idea brother, let's not stick around longer than we have to." Shane says, looking around and shifting on the spot. Rick either doesn't hear him or chooses to ignore him because he stepping through the door, the glass smashed out. Shane takes one more nervous glance around and follows him in. Rick's digging through old records and chuckling. Shane looks curiously through the CDs covered in dust and debris, eying the artists on the cover. He wonders if any of them are alive. He jumps, dropping the cases in his hands to the floor with the crackle and sharp ring of the store stereo comes to life, followed closely by Bob Segar's Old Time Rock N' Roll. Shane has a half a mind to tell him to turn the fucking thing off, but the next thing he knows, Rick's attempting something of a dance with him, spinning him in place and moving him about the room, around and between the racks. He's laughing so damn hard, he can hardly breathe. Their feet are clumsy and they stumble a few times but Rick swings him down for a dip before swooping him back up as the song fades out. Shane doesn't really know what to say. He just keeps laughing even when he presses his mouth to Rick's.
Ash
Burned bodies rain ash. It ascends into the air in the plume of smoke and falls to the ground. The smell of burning flesh isn't easily forgotten. Rick keeps the handkerchief to Shane's mouth and nose and pulls the shirt up about his own. The entire building is in flames and the hissing, whiney screeches of the dead inside grate on his ears. They watch, squinting at the hands that bang against the windows with flesh that is being licked by flames before they fall away. The heat is unbearable as they move away from the structure. It'll collapse soon and the hoard they'd carefully lured inside will soon be gone. Shane coughs into the handkerchief against Rick's hand and they move a little faster. They walk down the stretch of road that leads back to the highway where the others have been told to gather and wait. When they reach the RV, the ash is still falling and when Shane attempts to wipe it from Rick's face, it smears. Rick throws up before his mind even processes that he's gagging.
Guilt
Shane disappears for a few days. One morning, he's just up and gone. There's no note, no indication as to which way he went, there's nothing. He's just gone. They need to be moving on soon. They've stayed their welcome on Hershel's farm and winter is coming, but Rick refuses to leave without Shane. Daryl makes an off handed comment about Shane patrolling the area and maybe getting snagged by a Walker and Rick's never punched anyone harder. There's a sinking feeling that burns in his gut when he hears those words and the nights seem longer with each passing day as he sits on the porch and waits for Shane to come back. He wakes one morning, not realizing he fell asleep and the morning air is brisk. He hears shuffling and from down the road a lone figure is walking. Rick stands because he'd know the gait of that man anywhere. He jumps down from the porch and resists the urge to run. Shane's covered in dirt and blood. His boots are caked with mud and flecks of flesh. He freezes when he sees Rick. "I oughtta knock your fucking teeth out," Rick practically snarls at him as he approaches his best friend, "Where the hell have you been?" He can hear the sound of the porch door swinging open and knows the others have come out, but he ignores them. Instead, Shane's eyes downcast and Rick eyes follow them down to where Shane is clenching a trucker hat, covered in blood, hair still crusted inside and reeking something awful; Otis. "You crazy son of a bitch." Rick shakes his head, cupping Shane's face and he realizes that Shane's shaking now. Rick's not mad anymore because he knows that Shane needed to do this. The guilt must have been eating him alive.
Photograph
Lori's stack of albums sat in the back of the RV and from time to time, before Rick came back, Shane liked to take them down at look at them. Sometimes, Lori would catch them, remove them from his hands and put them back without saying a word. He would wait until he was alone again to look through them. There are pictures from Rick and Lori's wedding, of Lori pregnant, of Carl as a baby. There are pictures of birthdays and Christmas parties and cook outs. Shane has pictures he kept as well in a small stack in a box he's hidden away well. They are pictures from before Lori that he couldn't have parted without. They are pictures of him and Rick, photos he'll never be able to replace. In some of them, they're kids with their arms slung around each other's shoulders on a hot summer day. In others, they're teenagers sitting in a truck bed during a camping trip, graduating from high school, and leaving for the police academy. Those are the ones stacked on top of his favorite photo, just the one. Shane still to this day doesn't know who took it. Rick's eyes are down and he's laughing and Shane is pressing a sloppy, smiling kiss to his cheek. He has his arms wrapped around Rick, with one hand holding a beer and the other pressing the opposite side of Rick's face so he can kiss him harder. Rick is holding him tight, a beer in his own hand. He can recognize the apartment they shared for many years in the background, a time where it was just him and Rick. Whoever took that photo most likely didn't know that behind the kiss was a deeper meaning, but Shane is forever grateful for the fact they snapped the shutter.
Haven
There's a sense of shelter and that all is right in the world when Rick is near him. A balance to the numbness he's far too used to. A solace, if you will. He feels when he's with Rick because there's no one else he'd ever burrow himself into, no one that he would trust to do so. Everyone looks at him like he's behind the glass at some museum, an ancient, alien artifact they don't understand and can't touch because he'll either break or maybe there's some sort of curse that comes with being too close to him. They let him lead because they're all too scared to do so themselves and it makes them feel safe to have someone else in charge. He feels naked and bare and far too vulnerable having to be the shield for everyone; that they see too much by looking to him for guidance. He keeps the mask on, unbalanced and unfeeling. And then Rick is back by his side and Rick's chipping away at the mask that's hardened and caked to his soul until Shane's feeling exposed again and Rick can touch all those tender areas where he would break the fingers of others if they dared to try. But Rick reins him in and despite the chaos, and Shane feels balanced because with Rick, he's safe and it's the only haven he needs to stay upright.
Jump
Rick skids to a halt at the edge of the jutting cliff, gasping hard. Shane's feet slide and he falls hard on his ass. Rick catches him by the arm before he slips over the edge and drags him back. Shane pants, eyes wide and stares down. It's got to be at least a twenty, maybe thirty foot drop into a lake below. Who knows if the water's even deep enough to land in, that if they jump, it might only be a couple feet and they'll break their necks. Or maybe they'll hit something on the way down. Or maybe there are more Walkers. There's a heinous, wet gurgling and gasping sound accompanied by the sound of thrashing leaves and crunching twigs. Rick throws a look over his shoulders. The ten or so Walkers they'd run into haven't stopped coming. Somewhere in the mad dash away, Shane had dropped his gun because Rick had tripped and there was no way in hell he was going anywhere without them. Rick doesn't have any bullets left. "Man, that's a hell of a drop." Shane says, eyes shifting between the oncoming Walkers and the glittering lake below. Rick reaches out and takes his hand, swiftly kissing the back of it. "You trust me?" Rick asks, even though he knows he doesn't have to. Shane smiles, the corner of his lips pulling up in that trade-mark grin, "Brother, you know I always will." Shane squeezes his hand tightly, interlocking their fingers. Together, they jump.
Belt
They're alone in the house because it's a gorgeous day and everyone's got something to do. They bump, Rick coming out of the kitchen, Shane going in. Such a slight brush of skin contact and the fact the house is empty seems all too apparent. Rick shoves Shane into the nearest wall and Shane bites his bottom lip, running his tongue over it as they stumble over each and up the stairs. Rick leans against the door frame as Shane pulls off his shirt, entering the bedroom. Shane grabs him by the front of his shirt and wrenches him in, slamming the door shut. Alone or not, they're careful about the noises they make and Rick seems to be doing everything in his power to get Shane to practically scream. He keeps biting his arm to prevent himself from making too much noise, but then Rick's undoing his belt and strapping his wrists to the headboard. He struggles and the leather leaves bruises against his skin like the way Rick's teeth do all over his chest and stomach and hip bones. His pants are shoved down around his knees and Rick slides between his thighs, testing the belt again with a smirk that just makes Shane harder (if that's possible). The heat in the room is almost unbearable now. The overwhelming burn of Rick's fingers is all too familiar and much too missed. Rick presses his forehead to Shane's when they fuck, practically breathing through each other's mouths. Shane comes first, one of Rick's hands bracing the arch of his back, the other pressing his wrists to the pillow, making sure the belt keeps him restrained. Rick's soon to follow, able to feel the way Shane squirms, body overloaded with sensitivity and it makes him come harder. They pant and lay in a sweaty mess together for a while before Rick pulls out and Shane grimaces, uncomfortable, toeing off his pants so Rick can get out. Rick rolls onto his back with a yawn and finds Shane staring at him expectantly. He laughs, reaches over, undoes the belt and is immediately pushed into the mattress as Shane straddles his waist. Round two.
Snow
Winter leaves them all worried. Hershel's been kind enough to let them stay on the farm until the Spring, but it's done little to calm everyone's nerves. Will they have enough food to keep everyone fed? Will they have enough medical supplies? What if someone gets sick? What will they do without heat in the house? Will there be enough blankets and warm clothes to go around? The air gets colder and the trees lose their leaves. The first snow storm rolls in with a whipping, nasty wind that bangs the shutters and rattles the old frame of the house. Everyone watches with miserable eyes until Maggie draws the shades and they go to bed. In the morning, the house is so cold, Rick can see his breath. He's up before everyone – almost everyone. Shane is awake. Rick sees Shane standing on the porch outside and he puts on his boots and a jacket before stepping out to join him. It's up to his ankles. The snow crunches beneath his shoes, the world a never-ending gray sea before him. "Shane, what're you do-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence when snow suddenly explodes across the front of his shirt. Rick stares in disbelief for a moment before he realizes Shane has thrown a snowball at him. Shane grins at him, wiggling his eyebrows. There's a warm playfulness in his eyes that Rick has missed for months since the dark cloud has seemed to settle in his best friend's mind. "This means war." Rick's not sure how long they're out there, but it's enough to wake the others and when Daryl comes outside to see what's going on when he suddenly gets a face full of snow that Rick had hurled at Shane, who had ducked. They pause as Daryl wipes his face clean – and then picks up a clump of snow and throws it back. Carl and Glenn come outside and join them. Andrea is hesitant before Dale urges her to go. Maggie dashes out with Darcy and Jimmy, hollering and hooting. Lori, Hershel and the rest watch with warm smiles as the group of them play in the first snow fall of winter.
Accident
He and Shane are seventeen and driving home from some party of a mutual friend's when a drunk driver hits them. Rick's laughing about some joke Shane's telling them as they wait for a green light. Something in his brain realizes there's something not right in the swerving head lights approaching from behind Shane's head out the window. And he's right because they never slow down and it's too late to get out of the way before the care side-longs into them with such force it rolls the car. The sickening crunch of metal and shatter of glass is all he can hear for the next fifteen, maybe twenty, seconds. It seems an eternity longer and then suddenly, it stops. Rick's dizzy and disoriented; his vision blurry. He's not sure where exactly it hurts because everything fucking hurts. His eyes are suddenly burning and he blinks furiously, wiping his face only to have his palms come away red. He looks around and something's not right: they're upside down. "Shane?" Rick's mouth is wet and sticky and tastes like copper. He wipes his eyes again and reaches beside him in the darkness of the car. His hand collides with the solid length of Shane's arm. It doesn't move. "Don't do this to me man." Rick says aloud, grabbing Shane's arm and shaking. He hears a groan and loud, sickening cough. "Oh man, oh man, fuck," He hears Shane gasp out, "Shit man, my ribs, I can't fucking breathe-" Shane gasps out and Rick grabs for his hand, placing it to his own chest. "Breathe with me." He has to repeat it, yell it even, over and over before Shane's painful breathing begins to subside and ease. "I'm here with you man, I ain't goin' anywhere," Rick says as he feels Shane's fingers tighten in his shirt and the whirring of the sirens in the background, "I'm gonna stay right here. With you. Always."
Hunt
Rick stays close to Daryl as they move through the woods. It's getting dark and they'll have to get back soon. They haven't caught much; a few rabbits and squirrels, nothing large. The others will be disappointed. Rick wipes his brow as they head back for the highway, moving with Daryl like it's some sort of dance; stopping when he stops, crouching when he crouches, shifting when he shifts. "How come Shane didn't come?" Daryl asks. Whether it's out of interest or to get a conversation going so they're not moving in silence, Rick's not sure. Rick shrugs, "Dunno." He does. They got into it pretty hard this morning and he doesn't think Shane's going to be walking right for a day or so. Daryl stops, turns to look at him and squints at him. He smirks and shakes his head, "You two are fucking," Daryl waves the bow at him and Rick reflexively makes sure he's not in the way, "Man, I knew when you came into the group was somethin' funny about you two. How about that." Rick's face burns a bright red, betraying his neutral expression. Daryl just snorts and continues on walking, Rick following closely behind. Daryl keeps making these small chuckles and grunts of amusement as they head back up onto the road, the RV coming into view, smoke rising into the sky from the campfire. Rick grabs him by the arm and swings him around, "What the hell is so funny?" Daryl practically busts a gut laughing, "Remind me to always go huntin' with you two. I was wondering why you guys never came back with anything. People are gonna start to wonder why too."
Disturbance
Rick stares at the digital clock on his nightstand. The numbers are blurry and he blinks hard until they come into focus: 2:04 AM. Who the hell is banging on the door at this hour? Hadn't Shane come home yet? Rick stumbles to his feet as he moves through the apartment he and Shane share. He slides on a quick pair of pants and turns on the hall light as he answers the door. There's an officer standing on the other side. He's got one hand on his hip, and the other on Shane's arm. It takes Rick a moment to realize that Shane is handcuffed. "Does this belong to you?" The officer asks, rattling Shane's arm harshly. Shane's eyes stay to the floor and Rick looks him over; he can smell the booze. He doesn't like the way Shane looks, but he doesn't like the way the cop talks more. "What happened?" Rick asks and the officer grimaces. "Him and the old man got into it. Again," The officer moves behind Shane, jerking the younger man's arms, "Woke the neighbors, caused a hell of a disturbance." Shane rubs his wrists as the cuffs come off and the cop gives him a shove forward. His drunken feet stutter and Rick catches him. "Keep him in line, will you? Have a good night." Rick nods and takes Shane inside and sits him on the couch before going to get him a glass of water. "Why'd you do it Shane?" He asks quietly, sitting next to him on the couch, running a hand through Shane's hair. Shane shrugs, "Thought it'd be different." He mumbles and Rick shakes his head, "It never has been before. Why would you think it'd be different this time? It's time to let him go man, you don't need him in your life." Shane says nothing for a long time before he presses his forehead to the mug, squeezing it so hard his knuckles turn white, "I know."
Buttons
Buttons are such a pain in the ass. Rick's glad that Shane wears most of his shirts with the buttons already undone. Though, he's sure now it's because in the past Shane has lost one too many shirts by having Rick tear them off of him. Maybe he's too eager. He just gets to have Shane so little of the time that when they finally have time for themselves, they've been apart for too long and he just wants that hot skin beneath his fingers. Rick can remember times where he would come back to their shared dorm room at the academy and Shane's already walking around the place without a shirt on just to save time. When they took it slow on the rare days they had off together, Rick would undo each button one by one; it's so achingly slow that Shane's nearly coming in his pants from rubbing against Rick's thigh in desperation. And then there had been days where they had been so drunk from some party that Rick's pulling the buttons off by his teeth. It has always varied; it keeps things interesting.
Hair
Shane's hair is what he seems to be vainest about. Rick likes to run his hands through it, likes to curl his fingers in the soft, dark locks. Sometimes, he likes to tug. Back when they were on the job, he had a habit of reaching over and mussing Shane's hair whenever he got in the car. The first time they kiss when Rick finds their group, Rick finds Shane on the hood of the RV on lookout. Shane doesn't get to speak when Rick reaches out and runs a hand through his hair down to the back of his neck and tangles his fingers into it before crushing their lips together. When Shane shaves all of his hair off, Rick's taken by surprised. It's not a horrible look; Shane's still a handsome man. But he just can't get used to it. He remembers running a hand across the back of Shane's head to keep their bodies anchored together, Shane tight and warm around his cock, and the feeling is unfamiliar. Something in him breathes a sigh of relief and joy when Shane starts growing it back in before the Winter starts. It's short and bristly for a while before growing soft and longer. By the spring, his hair is almost back to the way it was. They're walking one day across the open fields of melting snow and Rick reaches over, mussing Shane's hair. Shane laughs, "What the hell?" Rick just smiles and shrugs.
Wine
They say a glass of wine with dinner is good for you. Six, seven, eight… probably isn't. Shane sways where he stands, emptying the last of the bottle into his glass and carefully puts one foot back in front of the other before dropping onto the couch. Wine spills over the top and onto his hand. Rick leans over and licks it off. Shane giggles. Fucking giggles. "Man, I'm drunk," Shane says out loud and Rick gives a muffled 'mhm' as his mouth suctions itself to the side of his neck, teeth scraping at the skin. Shane shivers and takes another swallow of wine as the movie on the television begins to roll the credits by. Rick doesn't let up on his neck and he's going to have to wear something with a high collar to work tomorrow. He leans into the hot mouth on his skin, groaning as Rick runs a hand up his thigh, teasingly close to his dick before drawing away. "You should probably get home soon, Lori's waitin'," Shane says, giving Rick the option to leave, "You know how pregnant women are." Not that he would, but still, he figures he ought to try and be a good guy. Rick pulls away then, squinting at him. His cheeks are flushed from the wine and his eyes have that tipsy, glassy look to them. His eyes seem to ask, you really want me to go? Shane's eyes answer, no. Rick's say, give me an excuse to stay. Shane swallows down the rest of the wine and puts it on the coffee table before he leans over, crushing his mouth to Rick's, "You're too drunk to drive," And Shane's too drunk to drive him home, honest, "As an officer of the law, I wouldn't be doing my job if I let you get behind the wheel."
Years
The years have been good to them. They're in good shape and in good health and somewhat in good spirits given the situation. The years have been gracious to them given their predicament. They're given moments alone and away from the world because they deserve each other and missed the chance to have it, so they're glad to get what they can out of what they have. The years have been long and haven't been without their hardships. Shane gives until Rick is strong enough to pull, and he knows Rick pushes back to give him just as much. The years get harder when the world goes to shit and Rick begins to wonder if maybe this is where they're going to get their chance. It takes years for them to get here, to get to each other; it takes the end of the world. Sometimes, it's all the incentive you need to take the person you love the most and kiss them and no longer care who is watching.
Love
They complement one another perfectly, from Shane's wild brazenness to Rick's stead-fast calmness. Opposites attract and yet they share similarities and a bond that is deeper than anyone's ever known or will know. They balance one another. They have memories stitched into their hearts and minds. They come to one another to talk when no one else can understand. They know each other's deepest fears, their deepest regrets, deepest secrets and their deepest loves. They might fight like an old married couple, but they would rather fight with each other than make love with anyone else. They know actions speak louder than words and that sometimes, it's the small things that matter more. They know each other's movements and emotions. They're the only two people in the world who'd allow the other to pinprick their most sensitive areas and expose their insecurities because they're also the only two people in the world who know the other can make it better. They trust each other, completely and wholly and no one else has access to that. That's only for them. They're only for each other. They're brothers. They're best friends. They're lovers. They're Rick and Shane.