Summary: "If the rain doesn’t stop anytime soon, I’m going out to find Ryan."
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction.
Note: Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt cuddling - hypothermia. Beta’d by the amazing devilswhore_x, our Designated Schmoop Bingo Beta.
Shane turns to look outside when he hears the first few drops of rain hitting the window. He’s been so busy editing his short film that he didn’t notice how dark it was outside. He turns down the volume of the speaker and hears the distant sound of the TV.
“Brendon?” he calls out.
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining.”
“Shit,” he hears, followed by some hurried footsteps before the front door opens. “Ryan isn’t back yet.”
“He’s probably on his way back,” Shane concludes for him, but knowing Ryan, he understands why Brendon would worry. The rain gets heavier and louder as Shane resumes editing his work, and about half an hour later, Brendon anxiously enters his room.
“If the rain doesn’t stop anytime soon, I’m going out to find Ryan,” Brendon says, agitated. His fingers are drumming on his leg, his foot tapping on the floor, too worked up to stay still.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Shane quickly says, trying to calm him down. “I don’t think I can handle two sick whiny dudes alone later.”
Brendon laughs a little at that, causing Shane to smile. He thinks that it’ll stop raining sooner than later, but there’s no convincing Brendon to not find his boyfriend in this weather. Ryan went to take a walk, like he usually does every afternoon ever since he came to crash at Brendon and Shane’s place a week ago. On the first day, Brendon went with him to show him around. Ryan still isn’t used to this neighborhood, but he never went too far, he would always be able to find his way back. However, today is a different story.
“You could drive me?” Brendon asks hopefully.
Shane heaves a sigh, saving his work on the computer. “What if he returns home and no one’s here because we’re out looking for him?”
“You go find him and bring him home, then.” He’s being obviously petulant about it; it was cute when Shane first met Brendon, how he always wants things to go his way, but now it’s just giving him a headache.
“B, Ryan is not a kitten. He’s an adult and he can take care of himself, no matter what you think.”
“Ryan is cuter than a kitten.”
“Not my point,” Shane groans, but laughs anyway. He notices the rain is gradually slowing down, and shuts off the computer.
“You’re not denying the fact that I said Ryan is cuter than a kitten,” Brendon teases, leaning against the door frame.
“Yes, Bren, your boyfriend is cuter than a kitten; he’s even cuter than my girlfriend. Satisfied?” Shane is sure Brendon can practically hear his eyes roll.
“I take that as a compliment.”
“It’s not even for you, asshole!”
“You love me anyway,” he sticks his tongue out and leaves Shane groaning in frustration. He gets up and stretches the sore muscles on his shoulders and legs and follows Brendon out of the room as he hears someone knocking on the front door.
“That’d better be you, Ross!” Brendon shouts from the kitchen, and Shane just watches him open the door to a sheepish, soaked Ryan. Brendon doesn’t even hesitate a second before throwing his arms around the shivering boy. “I’m so sorry, but Shane wouldn’t let me go out to find you.”
“I’m so mean I know, and I’m on my way to make some mean hot chocolate for both of you,” Shane pipes up, heading towards the laundry room to grab some towels for Ryan. He passes them to Brendon.
“Get him out of his clothes,” he says, ignoring Brendon’s small burst of laughter, “so fucking childish,” he mutters under his breath. “And please don’t drip so much on the carpet.”
“Quick, Bren, I’m fucking freezing,” he hears Ryan mutters as he gets out some cocoa and mugs out of the cupboard.
“Where were you?” he hears Brendon ask in a worried tone.
“I waited for the rain to stop at a bus stop,” Ryan answers softly, so quiet Shane almost can’t hear him. “But then I just came back because it was getting too cold, and I’m all wet already.”
There are muffled shuffles of feet and Brendon heaves a sigh. “I love you but I hate your pants.”
“They’re way looser than your skinny jeans, fucker.”
“Just these particular pants, the fly is tricky,” Brendon says defiantly and Shane suppresses a laugh. He continues to shamelessly eavesdrop as he adds some milk equally into the mugs and puts all three of them into the microwave, turning it on. He hears faint sounds of them kissing and then the microwave beeps.
(“You’re too cold, Ross,” Brendon says, concerned.
“I’m okay, nothing I can’t handle.”)
Shane places the mugs on a small tray - fuck, fuck, they’re still hot! - and brings them into the hall to find Brendon towel drying Ryan’s long and curly hair, while Ryan curls into a small ball on the couch, bundled in towels. The TV is still on, but nobody’s actually paying attention to it. Brendon looks up; trying to look unconcerned, but his voice gives him away when he speaks. “He can’t stop shaking.”
“Here, Ryan.” He sits up and takes a mug from Shane and smiles in appreciation. “Are you naked under the towels?”
“What do you think?” Ryan smirks and tries to take a sip, accidentally spills some of the chocolate. He curses at the now stained towel and glares at his shaking hands.
“I’m gonna get some blankets, okay baby?” Brendon gets up and kisses the tip of Ryan’s cold nose, bringing the wet towel along with him.
Ryan heaves a sigh when Brendon disappears. “I’m fine, I’m just cold. He worries too much,” Ryan says meekly, placing the mug on the coffee table.
“You do know in certain situations and cases, people can die from hypothermia,” Shane argues half heartedly, kicking slowly at Ryan’s cold feet.
“It’s not like I got into a snow storm or something. It was just rain.”
“He loves you, Ryan. Let him worry,” Shane smiles, sipping his own chocolate. “Damn, this is so good.”
Ryan snorts but his eyes are glued to the TV. Brendon then returns with the thickest blankets that they own, and squeezes his way between Ryan and Shane - “Brendon, your elbow!” - throwing the blanket over the three of them. They sit down silently, enjoying the drink while watching a black and white movie on the TV until it gets dark. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Brendon kissing Ryan’s temple every five minutes, his hands rubbing at Ryan’s skin to keep him warm.
(“You’re so stupid for walking in the rain.”
“Don’t want you to think that I ran away with some hobo off the street or something.”
“I’m sorry,” Brendon buries his nose in Ryan’s neck and inhales. “Should’ve gone with you.”)
Later, when Shane wakes up from his slumber and remembers his unfinished work, he gets up slowly, trying not to wake the other two up. Ryan’s empty mug is still in his hand and when Shane carefully takes it away. Ryan snuffles in his sleep, burying his face into Brendon’s hair. He blinks an eye open.
Shane rests the back of his hand on Ryan’s forehead. “Okay?” he asks quietly.
“Feel fine,” his voice scratchy from sleep, and Ryan’s skin doesn’t feel too warm or too cold anymore. “Thanks, Shane.”
Brendon starts to snore, still deep asleep in Ryan’s arms. “Anytime.”