Sorry for the long wait I've been busy as hell, not to mention their were tecnical dificulties in getting this chapter out. hopefully i can get the next chapter out in a month and not two like this one.

i've also been taken over by so many plot bunnies ideas for fics have been popping up like bunnies are making them. i don't know when or if they'll be finished but i've been watching smallville and lets say pairing are in abundance

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Ryan sat up in his bed, eyes wildly flashing around the room looking for the dark eyed man. Seeing no one else there he fell back wards to lay back on the bed, tears flowed out of his eyes, rolling into his hairline. He could still feel the other man's touch even though the dream was over, each kiss he was given, his skin ached where the man had bitten and sucked at it. That wasn't the only thing he felt, beneath the covers, boxers, and sweat was his own release cooling as it glued his boxers to his body.

He tried to deny it, deny the enjoyment he got from the dreams. To see that man professing his love to him, making love to him. It made his heart ache, knowing that he would never do it in reality. By why would he want that, he wasn't gay, he had never before felt anything even close to attraction to another man in his whole life. Love yes, brotherly, familial, but never romantic, or sexual.

For whatever reason his mind and body were rebelling against him, he felt like he was at war with himself. His mind kept dreaming the same type of dream him alone, then the other man would show up and make mind blowing love to him. The dark eyed man would take care of him, keep him out of pain as much as possible, and say that he loved him. He tried not to cry when thinking of his dreams but the frustration had to come out some way. He was attracted to women, he always had been, until now. Now they were as beautiful as ever, but when he tried to think of anyone of them in a sexual way he couldn't help but think of how it felt to have his lover from his dreams filling him, making him moan with pleasure.

Throwing back the covers he got out of bed and made his way to his bathroom, wincing as his cum squished inside his underwear while he walked. Once in the bathroom he turned on the shower and stripped out of his gross clothes, using the already ruined boxers to wipe away some of the other semen. Hopping in the shower he flinched as the hot water hit his sensitive skin. He stood there letting the water wash away as much of the evidence as it could as he tried to come to terms with the dream he just had.

He wanted so bad for this living nightmare to be over, for the dreams to go away, and take the feelings they brought with them away as well. Ryan hugged himself as he sunk to the floor his tears mixing with the water as it rained down on him. He stayed there until the water grew cold, making him shiver with the ice cold feeling it gave off. When he knew he had to get out or receive hypothermia, he didn't bother to grab a towel, he simply walked back to his bed and curled up beneath the covers.

When he was finally not as cold anymore he saw that he needed to be to work in an hour he got up and went about his usual morning routine. Brush teeth, shave, shower, which he skipped, get dressed, and head out the door. Sometimes once he left his apartment he would sometimes get coffee or breakfast before work, but that depended if there was a dead body to go see or not. Checking his phone he had no messages, no messages equaled no body to see, so he went to a little diner near the precinct. Living close enough to his work he walked the ten block to the diner, where he got a stack of pancakes and about seven cups of coffee. Even though he wasn't cold per say, he did shiver every few minutes, and with the little sleep he got Kevin figured it wouldn't be so bad to load up on a few cups of hot caffeine.

The next three blocks to the station were daunting, to say the least, even thinking about the man made his member throb in his pants and his eyes water in pain. Squaring his shoulders he walked into work, not allowing his dreams to over power his mind, he focused on the case, and how many missing persons files he would be going through in the next hours.

"Hey, Ryan," Beckett greeted him as she walked into the building with him.

"Hey," he said quietly back to her.

"Did you get any sleep last night? You look terrible."

"Not much, too much going on inside my mind," he answered honestly.

"I know what you mean, this case is ... it's something else," she said as she pushed the up button for the elevator.

"Yeah...it is."

Reaching their floor they both got out of the elevator Beckett headed to her desk while Ryan headed to the conference where the boxes and files from missing person were still piled everywhere. Grabbing the only neat stack of files that were on the table, he took them out to Beckett.

"These are the ones that we've already looked through that match what we were looking for, but there are still hundreds of files to look through."

"Wow, I knew there would be a lot, be seeing them in front of me... How are none of these people found after these many years?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ryan said as he crossed his arms in front of him to stop anyone from noticing they were shaking. "It's like we have cold cases. Not enough resources, bad leads, they were too smart, take your pick."

"I suppose. It doesn't make it any better though."

"BECKETT!"

"Oh god," said Beckett as she dropped her head into her hands. "Why does he have to be so happy in the mornings?"

"I have no idea, I hate mornings. I think it's because of you though."

"What, you think he does it to annoy me?" She asked, becoming alert.

"You really don't know?" He asked in marvel, wondering if she was that oblivious.

"Know what?"

"That he loves you. That the reason he's so excited in the mornings is because he's happy to see you."

"Do you have a concussion, Ryan?" She asked him with a smile, as she swung an arm behind her to rest on the back of her chair as she would often do. "He's not in love with me."

"You just don't see it. Why else would he stay? He doesn't need to follow you around to write Nikki Heat, he says to stay with you." Ryan gave her a pointed look, daring her to prove him wrong. "Watch him, he gives himself away, but only if you pay attention."

Before they could talk about it more Castle came over to them with the usual cup of coffee for Beckett.

"What ya talking about?" He asked as he handed Beckett her coffee.

"Nothing," she said quickly as she took the large styrofoam cup from the writer, never looking up at the man as he handed her the cup.

"Find anything knew about this case?"

"No, we still have hundred of files to go through, then go through the ones that are possible matches." Ryan moved over to his desk picking up his empty coffee cup. "Unless we come up with something else we're going to be going through those boxes for a while."

"Did you look for other murders? Ones that are at least slightly similar to this one?" Asked Castle as he looked at the crime scene pictures.

"I'll check on that, see if our counterfeiters left behind anymore bodies," Ryan said as he picked up his phone.

After getting off the phone he made a beeline to the expensive coffee machine Castle had bought them, the shivers had come back and in full force. Even after the many cups of burning hot coffee he had at the diner, and with how warm it was for being so early in the day he still hadn't escaped the cold that he could still feel. As he went to grab the now filled cup, someone came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder making him spill the boiling hot liquid burning him as it splashed onto his hand.

"Damn it!" Ryan waved his hand in the air, making the coffee fly into the air and splatter across the room. "Javi, what the hell," he yelled as he saw his partner backing away from him.

"What?"

"What? What do you mean what? You just made me spill burning hot coffee all over my hand, that's what."

"Sorry bro, I didn't see you holding it."

"Well, I was," Ryan said as he moved over to the sink and ran a clean towel under the cold water before pressing it to his scorched hand. First, the dream, the freezing shower, thought that was my fault, and now my hand burned. What else is gonna happen to me today, he thought as he started to clean up the spilled coffee with his unburned hand.

"I can get that for you," Esposito offered from above.

"It's already done. What did you want so bad that you had to scare me for?"

"I just wanted to say 'good morning', partner."

"For you maybe," he said sarcastically as he made himself another cup of coffee that he hoped would get spilled, at least not on him.

"I'll make it up to you, dinner tonight," Javier offered. "I'll cook something good."

"No... I mean tonight isn't good for me," Ryan didn't want Javi in his apartment, he couldn't risk his friend even having the slight chance of staying over and him having another one of those dreams while he was there. Most of the time when one of them went over to the other apartment they ended up staying the night. Between too many beers and staying up too late neither of them had the heart to send the other home alone, drunk in the middle of the night.

"Tomorrow then, I'll get some stuff and we'll watch the game after I cook us an amazing dinner."

Knowing that it would look too weird if he turned his friend down again he gave in. Normally he would jump at the chance to have his partner cook for him, Javi was a really good cook, courtesy of his mother. Sometimes he would even trick his partner into cooking from him by saying he was going to eat whatever he could find, or just make something himself. Kevin was the worst cook Javi had ever met, he was so bad he often burnt canned soup he was heating up.

"Yeah, sure tomorrow night. My place or yours?" Ryan asked already knowing the answer to his question.

"Yours obviously, even though you don't cook anything, and if you did you might be dead. From blowing up or food poisoning I don't know. And you have a better cable connection, mine still isn't fixed yet."

"We better get going we have a lot of files to read today," Ryan mumbled as he turned away from the other man as he headed out of the break room and to the conference room where he set his new cup of coffee down and sat in one of the many chairs and grabbed the nearest unread file.

Ten files later he hadn't found any ones that fit what he was looking for and he had a huge headache, mixing lots of coffee and reading wasn't a good match. The caffeine in the coffee made him twitchy and disoriented, which in turn made reading the copious amount of files just that much harder. With each page he read, he had to reread it at least twice and even then it didn't make much sense. Giving up he stood up from the table, snatched his jacket off his chair as he headed out of the precinct. Taking the stairs he walked down them and out the building. Three laps around the block later his headache was still there but he was much less twitchy, having walked off some of the excess energy he had from the coffee.

As the sun beat down on him he felt better, though the glare of it did nothing for his headache, he felt warmer, less cold. He knew it wasn't a good idea when he waited so long to get out of the shower, but he couldn't move, he was trapped. He often considered going to a therapist, wondering if the dreams were more than what they appeared if they were messing with his mind. He could have sworn up and down, on a bible, that he never felt anything for men like this before in his life. But some days he let the doubt fill his mind, that maybe he was finally ready to come to terms with what he really wanted, and that wasn't women. The sexual confusion was bad all by itself but when you consider who it was he was having the dreams about, the man that made love to him, it just got worse. The brown eyed man was straight as a line, he had many female companions, and was always talking about the ladies. There was not a hair of a chance he could have with the man, who in his dreams loved him completely.