What was it about trick-or-treating that was always more tiring than any normal walk around the block? Rick wanted to blame his boots, but they'd served him well for years now, even when he was chasing down petty thieves on the tax-payer's dime. Surely, they weren't the issue. Neither was the heat. Georgia had treated them to a chilly Halloween night for the neighborhood kids and for once Rick's button up wasn't stuck to his back in perspiration.
Age.
Plain and simple.
The big 4-0 was so distant in Rick's rearview now that it was barely visible and he had the white beard to show for it. His hair wasn't too far behind, more salt than pepper, even if he did keep it cropped closer than the curls that had seen him through his youth. Being a deputy kept him fit but it didn't stop time. Rick was failing to keep up with his twelve year old son on one of the most exciting nights of the year, even though the boy had pretended he'd been too cool to trick-or-treat until running into a group of his friends.
"Can I stay the night with Patrick tonight?" Carl asked, after they'd proclaimed the most recent house as their last stop of the night.
Not only did Rick's feet ache but the dark porches far outnumbered those with their lights still on. The neighborhood's candy well had run dry.
"What did his mom think?"
"She said it's okay if you think it's okay."
"She really say that or are y'all telling stories, hopin' neither of us will catch on?"
"Patrick texted her."
Rick almost told his son no. He struggled enough as it was, coming to terms with the fact that this was most likely his little boy's last year having any interest in candy and pumpkin carving. Already, Rick had practically had to beg to even come along. Carl was much too old to need his father guiding him as he went door to door. Now he wanted to end his last childhood Halloween with a friend?
But what was parenthood if not recognizing when it was just as important to let them go as it was to know when to hold them back?
Carl wanted freedom, probably to stay up late watching gory slasher flicks, not have his old man telling him to lay off the Snickers. Truthfully, Rick had the same plans and his and Shane's marathon would be a lot less stressful without Rick having to debate if Carl was old enough to finally join them. No, best to let the kid think he was being sneaky.
"I guess," Rick finally agreed. "But don't give his mom a hard time if she tells you two to knock it off, alright?"
"I know."
"And when we get home, remember to be quiet, your sister's probably sleeping. Don't forget to pack your toothbrush either."
"Dad, I know what to take to stay the night at someone's house."
When did it become staying the night and not a sleepover? Probably when Lori had stopped arranging them for him in elementary school.
At home, the porch was dark, Shane probably had run out of candy too–assuming he hadn't eaten it all. Silence greeted Rick and Carl as they eased through the front door, finding the house picked up and tidy, all thanks to the man passed out on Rick's couch, baby Judy curled up asleep on his chest. The TV cast moving shadows across Shane's sleeping body and Rick almost turned it off and let them stay there for the night.
"I'm gonna get my stuff and head out," Carl whispered, knowing better than to wake his baby sister.
"That's fine, you want a ride?"
"Do I ever? It's just a few streets over."
Rick chose to ignore the sass and watched his son disappear into his bedroom, knowing it was probably the last time he'd ever see the boy in a costume until he went to a drunken college frat party dressed as some social media trend versus a Scream mask.
He busied himself cleaning up the empty candy wrappers strewn around his best friend's lap. Shane hadn't run out of candy so much as he'd chosen to stop sharing it. Not that Rick could complain. After the death of Lori, Shane had stepped into the role of Rick's partner like never before. Maybe he did still wear his boots in the house like the undomesticated bachelor he'd always been but he was there, every day, showing up for Rick's kids and helping Rick not only keep the house running but making it feel like a home.
Judith's journey into the world had left Rick not just a widower but a single father of two. Juggling one child while married had been hard enough but two? With their mother six feet under? Luckily, there was Shane, ready to divide and conquer like good partners always did.
Rick blew out the scented candle that Shane had insisted on buying, pausing before reaching for the baby
Shane was passed out entirely, his large thighs spread and his god forsaken boots parked comfortably on the carpet. To anyone else the position probably would've been uncomfortable–Shane's chin resting on his chest with the baby clutched tightly, but Rick knew the couch now sported a permanent spot shaped to Shane's body after all the nights he'd spent sleeping there.
"Hey, it's just me," Rick whispered when Shane began to stir the second Rick attempted to move Judy off his chest.
Shane's big hands tightened their grip on Rick's baby daughter until his brown eyes opened and he realized who it was.
"I'm taking her upstairs," Rick told him, very carefully switching Judy's tiny little body from Shane's chest to his own, their hands brushing together in the exchange.
There was no need to ask if she'd been bathed, fed, burped, or changed. Shane knew Judy's nighttime routine just as well as Rick did and when Rick placed his daughter into her crib and kissed the crown of her head, the scent of Johnson & Johnson was as fresh as the tiny pumpkin pajamas that bundled her.
Downstairs, he wished Carl one last goodbye as the kid headed out, and collapsed next to Shane on the couch, who'd finally decided to join the living.
"Have a good nap?" Rick asked, reaching for a Twizzler from the candy bowl.
"I wasn't napping, I was just restin' my eyes."
"That right? And what's your excuse for hoggin' all the candy and turning the lights off early?"
"You badgerin' me for an excuse when you should be saying thanks. I saw Carl duck out of here with his pillowcase full. What were we supposed to eat all night if I gave it all away and the kid took off?"
Rick just shook his head and reached for a bite sized Twix, still chewing when Shane spoke again.
"Where'd he run off to anyway?"
"Oh, just choosing to spend the night with Patrick instead of us."
"You ain't bitter are ya?"
"Fuck off," Rick answered, turning to face Shane, who was laughing at him. "It's his last year trick-or-treating. Last year he'll dress up and need to be warned of belly aches."
"Just like his old man," Shane said, taking the candy bowl from Rick's lap and placing it on the coffee table. "We still got Judy. We can dress her up next year, drag her around, steal her candy because she'll be too young to eat much."
"We?"
"What the hell kinda question is that?"
"Just-" except Rick didn't really know what he meant by it. Or maybe he did and he just didn't want to say it out loud. "Who knows, Shane. Maybe this time next year you'll have met someone. She might want you watchin' scary movies with her all night. You don't know."
"That sounds about as stupid as climbin' a glass wall to see the other side, you know that?" Shane asked, finally turning back to face the TV like the idea didn't even deserve attention. "Even if that happened, you think I'd miss Judy's first proper Halloween?"
Rick didn't answer, it was never a requirement in the comfortable silence found between friends. Anyway, Shane was right. Even if he did finally meet the person that pulled him away from the Grimes family, he'd still always be there in some capacity.
Before Lori's death, Shane had spent more nights eating dinner with them than Hungry Man's at his place, but he'd still had his fair share of women–more than his share, actually. Maybe none had ever inspired him to settle down but Rick knew it was only a matter of time, especially for a man like his best friend. Shane took his job seriously, he loved kids, he was more dependable than a bloodhound on a scent trail, and there wasn't a broken appliance he couldn't fix. He wasn't bad looking either and judging by the women eager to hop in his bed, Shane was as skilled with his dick as he was with his hands.
Eventually one of those women would sink her claws into him and Shane would be heading out of Rick's front door as quickly as Carl.
"What are you even watching?" Rick asked, not caring that the question outed him for not paying any attention even though he'd been staring directly at the television.
"Amityville. Want me to restart it?"
"Nah," Rick answered. "I already know what happens, anyway. What are we watchin' next?"
"Whatever the hell you want," Shane told him.
"Whatever I want, huh?"
"Yes sir," Shane answered, turning his head to face Rick again.
"Anything I want?" Rick asked again, seeking clarity though his gut told him he needed none and after decades on the force, Rick trusted his gut.
Confusion flashed in Shane's dark eyes for a split second, an eyebrow raised, waiting for Rick to get to the point. Except Rick never said anything. He held Shane's gaze in the dim room as the horror flick played out in front of them, neither man pulling away from the other's stare. Rick tilted his head, waiting–okay, daring, his friend to do it first.
Shane opened his mouth again to speak but quickly shut it, perhaps finally realizing the gravity of Rick's silence.
Shane was always the bad cop to Rick's good, pushy where Rick was patient. But for once, it seemed Shane Walsh was the one caught off guard. He'd probably never expected Rick to do anything though Rick had suspected that, for decades, Shane had wanted him to.
In high school they'd just been kids, neither brave nor comfortable enough to admit anything else, especially not in southern King County. Then Lori had come along, like God had intentionally wanted Rick to take a detour named Carl and Judith.
But now?
What was to stop Rick from reaching a cautious hand out and placing it on Shane's denim-clad thigh and refuse to look away?
"What are you doin'?" Shane asked, his whisper missing any trace of accusation.
"What's it look like?"
Shane was a manspreader by nature and instead of tensing at the contact, Rick felt Shane's thigh relax and spread farther in Rick's direction, his ass sinking lower on the couch.
"Looks like you're fixin' to grab my dick," Shane answered, blunt as ever, the pivotal moment doing nothing to change that.
Was Shane aware that he'd licked his lips at the suggestion?
It was the icebreaker Rick needed. He laughed–hell, they both did.
"I ain't gonna grab your dick," Rick told him.
Before disappointment could flash on Shane's face, Rick was standing up, kicking his best friend's boots even farther apart to make room for himself, and dropping to his knees before he could second guess himself.
"Got somethin' else in mind," Rick clarified.
Until that moment he'd been too focused on what was happening to notice his own arousal, but there on the floor, parked between his best friend's knees it was impossible for Rick to ignore his dick stiffening in his jeans.
Was this really happening?
"You're fucking serious?" Shane asked, reading Rick's mind.
Rick didn't answer with words. He just stayed put, refusing to look away from Shane's brown eyes. For years Rick had always wondered if they'd look the same in arousal as they did when Shane was sleepy–darker, lazy, heavy.
His suspicions were finally confirmed.
Shane didn't even shrug in approval, it wasn't a fuck-it, why not sort of moment. He didn't tense or pull away, either. No, it was with confidence that Shane's hands went for his belt, never breaking their eye contact, until it was unbuckled and waiting on Rick.
After decades, Rick was weary of waiting.
His hands went straight for Shane's waistband and started pulling his bottoms down, making Shane's ass rise to help the process along as a quiet fuck hissed through Shane's teeth. The sound made Rick's dick twitch in his pants but he wasn't alone in his excitement. Already Shane was hard and Rick could smell his partner's arousal as he forced all the fabric down around Shane's ankles, completely freeing him.
One last time, Rick's eyes met Shane's, his hands massaging up Shane's thick thighs, spreading them open and making Shane's abs clench.
"You're really fucking serious?" Shane asked again, his voice already breathless.
Rick answered with a soft kiss to Shane's shaft, hovering there long enough to inhale Shane's scent, nostrils flared and lips firmly planted against the taught flesh.
"Fuck." Shane's groan made Rick echo it right back at him, just as his lips found another spot to kiss, then another, until Shane's hands were on Rick's shoulders.
Maybe he'd never done it before but it came naturally to Rick, not just because he knew what felt good but because there was a deep need within him, a desperate ache, to be as intimate with the details of Shane's cock as Shane was with the details of Rick's life.
He owed him that much.
Rick had thanked Shane more times than either of them could count for always being there but now Rick wanted Shane to feel as grateful as Rick always felt, to never have to doubt how important he was to Rick's being.
He planted soft, steady kisses to Shane's base, a gentle tease to make Shane stiffen and pulse from the touch. It wasn't until Shane's hips attempted to roll did Rick replace his patient lips with open-mouth, wet kisses, leaving a trail of moisture over Shane's length. Shane's skin was stretched tight and he knew exactly what the other man was feeling, how pleasurably painful it was– so much so that his own dick was pulsing with every new kiss his lips planted.
Rick craved to learn what made Shane twitch, he wanted to memorize the other man's scent, the taste of his flesh, he wanted to forever know what it felt like to have the weight of his best friend's cock in his palm.
Despite the crisp autumn night, Rick was beginning to sweat.
Shane's hands found Rick's hair, too short to grip, the moisture collecting on Rick's scalp doing nothing to tame Shane's anxious fingers.
Finally, Rick's mouth found the head of Shane's cock and he took in just enough to suck and bob, giving Shane's the smallest taste of the wet, tight suction heading his way. Shane's hand traveled down, one palm laying flat between Rick's shoulder blades, the other on Rick's shoulder, his grip massaging Rick's muscles to the same tune of Rick's mouth.
Rick allowed it–allowed Shane to rock his hips and moan freely, pushing into Rick's mouth a little more with each rhythmic, slow thrust.
They kept that pace going–Shane comfortably easing himself into Rick's mouth bit by bit, moaning louder with each steady roll.
By the time half of Shane's dick was engulfed, they were both groaning. Shifting on the floor, Rick was finding it harder to ignore himself, desperately he wished Shane's mouth was returning the favor but it'd have to wait.
Just as the TV blared out with a typical horror movie bang, Rick dropped his head and took all of Shane in his mouth, relaxing his jaw to accommodate Shane's thick girth.
Immediately, Shane's ass rose off the couch and he whimpered, a sound so beautifully raw that Rick felt his own nuts clench.
Shane was growing impatient as the sloppy sounds of Rick's effort overpowered the television. Rick savored Shane's flavor, working over his dick with gentle care and attention, sucking and moaning, not caring if he sounded just as eager as Shane.
He knew the other man was close.
Shane was impossibly hard, the sensitive skin taught and tight. As Shane's hands made a move to hold Rick's head in place, Rick stopped the attempt with Shane still in his mouth. He considered pinning Shane's wrists down–maybe Shane was built more solid than Rick but Rick knew he could do it he really wanted.
Instead, he intertwined their fingers together on either side of Shane's thighs, calming his friend's frustrations with added intimacy in place of a climax.
Their hands working together was like throwing fuel on a fire. Shane's head finally collapsed back onto the couch cushion as he gave into Rick with a raggedy, harsh breath. For too long Rick had wondered what Shane would sound like in his most intimate moments and now he didn't just get to hear but witness it too.
Opening his eyes, Rick glanced up at Shane, watching as Shane struggled to breathe and fight the peak that was approaching. Shane's dark hair was soaked with sweat, his chiseled jaw tight and clenching with every thrust of Rick's mouth, his fingers squeezing Rick's so tight that Rick's hands felt numb–still, he squeezed back, trying to comfort Shane, like somehow Rick's grip could sooth Shane's aching need.
It wasn't until Rick's name rolled off Shane's lips did Rick know it was game over.
He couldn't deny Shane any longer, he didn't want the tease anymore, he wanted to provide Shane with the release his body so desperately needed.
Letting go of Shane's hands, Rick increased his speed, his own hand now free to cup and tug Shane's nuts.
He felt Shane grip his nape, taking control, Shane's hips finally freely thrusting into Rick's mouth with purposeful, deep strokes. With every rock, Rick's dick swelled too–finally learning the ryhthm Shane preferred when fucking a tight, wet, hole.
They were both sweating as Shane used Rick's mouth, both moaning in response to the other's grunts.
Rick felt the moment Shane was gone for good, when his cock tensed in Rick's mouth and his thighs squirmed under the weight.
"Okay," Shane panted, holding Rick in place, not that he needed to. "Okay…"
The word softened on Shane's lips as he finally reached that euphoric moment he'd been clawing his way towards all night.
Rick greeted his friend's load with an appreciative groan, his dick pulsing in sync with Shane's release.
He swallowed most of it but pulled away towards the end, just so he could see that last dribble of milky fluid leak onto Shane's abs–right where Rick planted his next kiss.
They were both breathing heavily once it was over. Rick was still uncomfortably stiff but it was hard to care when Shane finally glanced down at him, a grin spreading across his lips.
"Fuckin' hell, man," Shane said, wiping the sweat from his brow in the crook of his arm. "I didn't think you'd ever do that."
Rick just laughed, trying to catch his breath.
"I didn't either," he admitted, flooded with relief because now the weight of the world was off his shoulders.
The moment that had been building for decades had arrived and it hadn't been met with angst or rejection.
Shane sat up straighter, just enough to be closer to eye level with Rick.
"We could do it again," Shane suggested, that sneaky glint already returning to his tired eyes.
"We could," Rick nodded. "A sleepover. Hell, maybe it's time you slept over every night. In a proper bed."
"You're serious? This ain't a trick?"
Already Shane was leaning closer to Rick, his hands going for Rick's shoulders, drawing him closer until their foreheads touched.
"It's a treat," Rick corrected, attempting to deadpan but failing miserably when Shane laughed at him.
"You're a cheesy son of a bitch, you know that?"
"I do."
He also knew that, when Shane's lips finally claimed his in a slow kiss, the taste of Halloween chocolate would forever remind him of that moment.