May 3, 2016
yo my favorite tøp songs are holding onto you, migraine, and forest so you should definitely check those out!!
nice!! omg thank u i def will!!
tbh migraine for mvp its such a good song,,
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Yemen
seen from Canada
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seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia
seen from Ukraine
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Russia
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yo my favorite tøp songs are holding onto you, migraine, and forest so you should definitely check those out!!
nice!! omg thank u i def will!!
tbh migraine for mvp its such a good song,,
!!
two the maine songs came on in a row lmao and i was just going to skip it but i adore this song so
we all roll along - the maine
and in the end we all knowwe only breathe for so longso tonight's the night we all roll along
send me a ! and i’ll give you my favorite lyric from a song on shuffle
james willems
Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
the only roads are cul-de-sacs
description: In which Agent Ryan Haywood gets roped with Gavin Free, a new Agent, and it’s all downhill from there. (Very downhill.)
trackmix for this fic!
words: 2,413 (overall: 21,548)
pairings this chapter: freewood, raychael, (geoff/gus)
ao3 mirror
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18
you and i go hard at each other like we're going to war
Ryan had been taught that, in the case of an emergency, RG-T did not have an alarm. So it came as a surprise when he woke up to an alarm, telling all RG-T Agents, “Please come in an orderly manner to the cafeteria. I repeat, orderly manner.”
Ryan spent all of 30 seconds wondering if it was test and, if so, which type of test. Of loyalty -- who showed up, despite their feelings of apprehension? Of caution -- who knew that something was wrong and tried to find an answer?
In the end, he decided it didn’t matter, he’d need information anyway. And the only way to get that would be to go near -- but not in -- the cafeteria.
So Ryan armed himself, small pistol because they weren't allowed to carry more in HQ, and calmly walked in the direction of the cafeteria. He didn’t look out of place amongst the other Agents moving towards their destination, though Ryan did wonder if they were like him -- information gathering -- or blinding following the voice as they blindly followed the organization.
“Rye!” Michael said, falling into step next to him, “OFFRED has orders.”
“Oh?” Ryan asked, not slowing down. The cafeteria was still the best place to get information and Ryan wasn’t one of the more important members of OFFRED like Barbara or Meg (he wasn’t an Agent with a speciality, not like them, he was just a jack-of-all-trades who was really good at being mediocre), so it was unlikely the orders had much to do with him.
“Hullum wants us all in one place.”
Ryan hummed, “Conductors of this test then?”
Michael shook his head slowly, “We’re going in the other direction.”
That-- made no sense. Unless it was a test for only non-OFFRED Agents? To see if they’d realise all OFFRED members were gone and if they trusted them? But, still, it was unlikely.
“We’ve never been together,” Ryan reminded Michael, “because Hullum doesn’t want us to kill each other. Our mandatory meetings have a rotating crew so we’d all get the info, but wouldn’t all be together. This doesn’t make any sense.”
Michael’s expression didn’t change, which made Ryan understand that Michael was very much aware of how wrong it all was. “I know.”
He shrugged, “Heyman’s orders though, can’t go against them.”
While Heyman did have a history of using his senior Agent privileges for his own benefit, they were always petty and small things, like cutting in line or ordering his juniors to not drink alcohol so he’d have more, so Ryan doubted the man was playing with them. He was telling them an order as a senior Agent, one that he’d probably heard from Hullum, and they were expected to follow it.
“Where are we expected to go then?” Ryan asked, finally pausing his stride.
“Hullum’s office, of course,” Michael made a face, “trapped in a small room with all of OFFRED’s members, what is Hullum thinking?”
Yes, exactly. What was he thinking.
Barbara called, “Wait, no!” the moment they walked into the room. The door, which Ryan had been loosely holding open, slammed closed on its own accord. Ryan wondered how it had done so without breaking his fingers.
Barbara frowned, telling them, “Hullum isn’t here.”
Knowing how cautious Hullum had always been with keeping them apart, he’d never invite them all into an inclosed space and then not show up himself to make certain they didn’t all kill each other.
“Do you think he’s dead or unconscious?” Meg asked, moving her eyes calculatingly around. Ryan noted she had more weapons than were permitted in HQ, but told himself to not dwell on it -- they couldn’t afford to be anything less than civil to each other.
“Unconscious,” Ashley then explained her opinion, “he’s a great Agent. He wouldn’t go down so easily.”
Ray disagreed, “This is his home turf, whoever did this can’t let the advantage of home turf screw them up. They’d get rid of him and quickly.”
Ryan, wisely in his opinion, didn’t offer the intel he’d been told. Not giving away info was less of an offence than appearing as a traitor during a hostile takeover.
Michael hummed after a long moment of silence, "So, basically, we have no way to see what the rest of HQ is doing and no way to get out of this room."
There was a scoff from the corner, near Hullum's computer, and Ryan turned to see a faux-offended Ray. "We have no way to see what the rest of HQ is doing," he repeated mockingly, "fucking asshole. I've been keeping an eye on everything since I got trapped here."
Michael huffed, smile playing on his lips, "Excuse me for not seeing someone who is, like, 4 feet tall."
Ray didn't even glance at him, seemingly transfixed on the monitor, "And so the short jokes begin. Y'know, it's not cool to bully people on what they were born with."
"It's bullying year, remember?" Michael asked, gravitating towards the place to the right of Ray.
"No, that was last year--"
Michael took one look at the monitor before he swore. Loudly. And creatively.
"Michael?" Ryan asked, moving closer as well.
"That fucking-- I'm going to murder him."
Ray rolled his eyes, "Now you're just being dramatic."
Michael scowled, turning to the rest of the room, “Heyman is still in bed,” which meant he wasn’t the one to order them here, they were all so screwed, “and-- wait.”
Everyone paid close attention as Michael turned back to Ray, “You’re watching him sleep. I’m boyfriends with a somnophiliac.”
“I am pretty fucking certain you’ve woken me up with a--”
“Alright!” Gray, who rarely spoke during meetings, interrupted, “let’s not go into that, okay?”
There was a hum from the intercom. Everyone in the room stood on alert. “I’m terribly sorry about locking you all here,” an accented voice-modified tone said, “can’t risk you ruining the plan.”
While Ryan debated if he should ask where Hullum and the department heads were or if should he ask about the plan (never hurts to try), Ray snorted, “Locking up Sorola and Ramsey in the same broom closet was plain mean, dude.”
The voice laughed, “Ah, but isn’t that the best place to kiss and make up?”
Barbara looked at the ceiling in faux-innocence, “I thought that was the bedroom.” The voice laughed again. The laughter was so familiar, with gasps, that Ryan wondered if he was close to the owner. Not many people laughed around him. (That’d make this an inside job and Ryan wasn’t surprised.)
Endearing yourself to your captor was one of the most foolish plans ever, Ryan had always thought, so of course two of OFFRED’s members would do it. They were all foolish.
“As I said, terribly sorry about locking you up,” the voice continued, “but if you’ll all be so kind as to,” a bookshelf creeped open, like in all of those films (and here Ryan was thinking none of them held a grain of truth), “enter that room there, you’ll even get to meet me! Which will be exciting, I suppose. It’s my job to keep you entertained, after all. Though,” the voice mused, “we don’t really care if some of you die. I mean, I might be a little sad, but I can’t really do anything about you guys being dim-witted, can I?”
A pause, then quieter, like the voice wasn't speaking towards the mic, “No, but can I?”
A laugh, even quieter, and a reply Ryan couldn’t make out later, the voice was back, ordering them into the room, with a threat of, “Did you know Hullum’s office is actually filled with three types of poisonous gas? It’s fascinating.” So they either did what the voice wanted and might walk straight into a trap or didn’t and might just a die anyway.
The joy of being an Agent.
The bookshelf didn’t lead to a room, rather to a seemingly-endless hallway with many doors, the voice leading them through several doors, all the same as the last.
“Now!” the voice said cheerfully, “just go straight and make yourselves comfortable! I have to-- hmm, spoilers.”
So they walked straight (it wasn’t like they’d find anything in this maze without help, the voice had even let them open doors in curiosity, but they always ended up looking the same all rooms did) and ended up in a room with a huge oval table, enough chairs for all of the Agents present to steal three to have a nap, if they weren’t so wound up and on alert.
“Terribly sorry,” the voice said, sounding amused, even through the altered voice, “but you must be seated. I’m not allowed in the room otherwise, something about emotional shockand revenge. I stopped listening around then.” The voice in the background said something that sounded scalding.
Ryan shared a look with Ray, who grumbled but was the first to sit down, realising how much of a trap they walked into. Ryan and Michael followed him, sitting on either of his sides. Meg and Ashley complied next, joined by a frowning Barbara and a seemingly unbothered Gray. Ryan wondered when their numbers had dropped down to single digits, in the beginning of the year, he was fairly certain there had been over fifteen members
As expected, the chairs strapped them down the moment they all sat down so no one could leave.
“Yes, yes,” a familiar voice said as the door behind Ryan opened, “everything is fine. Stop worrying, Jack.”
A voice that Ryan assumed was the so-called Jack replied, “Excuse me for knowing you and all the ways you always screw up.”
The scarily familiar voice huffed, fond and amused, but offended. “You go make certain Matt isn't dead.”
Jack laughed, “Which one? Scrufflord or Asshole?”
“I thought Scrufflord was Asshole.”
“No, he's Asshole. Asshole has more enunciation.”
“Check up on them both then, Jeremy might have killed either of them by now, honestly.”
Ryan had a feeling Jack shrugged, because the next sentence he heard was a casual, “You wanted it this way,” before Ryan heard the door opening and heels clicking against the floor, becoming fainter by the second.
“Tosser,” the voice muttered, before walking closer to the table, still behind Ryan, though he didn’t need to see the owner of the voice to know who it was.
“Y’know, in the films, this is where you ask me questions to keep me busy,” the voice said, amused.
Ray scoffed, “You never liked spy movies.”
The man behind Ryan shrugged (the shifting of cloth could be nothing else), “True. But, still, it is my job to keep you busy. I gotta do it some way, don’t I?”
Michael groaned, “Either shut up or tell us everything, I’m getting a headache.”
The voice laughed, so painfully familiar that Ryan’s heart hurt. “You kidnapped our leader so we’re getting him back. Nothing personal, yeah?”
“Leader?” Gray asked, fishing for information in the most obvious way Ryan had ever seen him do it.
Ga-- The voice didn’t seem to mind. “Michael Burns, somewhat important to B-OWN. He’s American so I nearly didn’t get the mission to get him back. Had to argue with bureaucrats formonths. Bloody UK.”
Meg frowned, looking him straight in the eyes -- or so Ryan was assuming -- and asked, “So this was all a job?”
“Yeah? I mean, I like you guys all well and good, but a job’s a job.”
The shock was starting to wear off, Ryan noticed, because he was furious. Furious at himself, for not being good enough to notice Gavin was pulling him along the whole time, furious at Hullum for letting him join, because of his own greed, furious at his fellow OFFRED members for never noticing and, most importantly, furious at Gavin fucking Free.
“I wish my hands weren't locked to this chair,” he said, voice lighthearted, “so I could punch you in the goddamn face.”
Gavin laughed, nervous tinted as it always was at Ryan’s threats, and told him, “Jack had a feeling you’d say that. I owe him twenty bucks.”
Honestly, that just made Ryan even angrier. A person he’d never met won over Gavin on how Ryan would react? Not Gavin, the guy he’d dated for months?
Glad to see this was one-sided, he thought bitterly, knowing that he’d been beat. Gavin had come into his life and Ryan had ignored all of his instincts, thinking them as just his usual paranoia acting up. Well, he wasn’t going to stand for that anymore, he decided, his “paranoia” had been right. He was going to never ignore it again.
Gavin left a few minutes later, once someone called for him at the door, saying, “Yo! British asshole! Time to go, we got the cargo.”
“Always so charming, Lindsay!” Gavin had called back, but didn’t even say bye to them, already hurrying after her. Ryan had told himself that he was imagining the eyes he’d felt on the back of his head.
Thirty minutes after that, the chairs’ cuffs opened and they’d left the room, to come to face with a sign on the wall that said, in Gavin’s handwriting, “Hullum is this way!” The sign pointed left, so they shrugged and followed it. They’d never get out of the maze without help anyway.
They had, in fact, found Hullum, right next door to Sorola and Geoff, both of whom had flushed faces --Ryan did not want to know -- and Hullum led them deeper into the tunnels, to check if B-OWN really had taken Burns -- which they had -- and finally, finally they were out of the endless hallways.
“I’m going to check up on the Agents in the cafeteria,” Hullum told them, “make certain they’re not dead or causing a riot. You do-- whatever. Stay together, though.”
So all of OFFRED -- plus Sorola and Geoff, later joined by a seemingly hungover Heyman, though Ryan was seriously considering that he’d been drugged -- ended up going to karaoke night.
(Ryan didn’t hate it, but he did end up looking to his right a lot, to tell something to Gavin, only to remember that, right, Gavin was a betrayer, and he’d swallowed down the anger and the resentment and the hurt -- worst of the three -- and acted like Gavin had never been in his life in the first place. He didn’t think he succeeded.)
@rtmogar asked:the flash (for the fandom thing)
accidentally deleted the ask :”D
my beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world fave: Cisco
my trash-shit fave: Eddie Thawne
my I love to hate them fave: Eobard Thawne
my I hate to love them fave: Harrison Wells
my I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire non-fave: Eobard Thawne
my I didn’t care about them either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about them now I can’t stand them non-fave: I honestly haven’t payed much mind to the fanbase so can’t say
my I could take them or leave them kinda non-fave: Iris West
8-12: I don’t ship :U
the only roads are cul-de-sacs
description: In which Agent Ryan Haywood gets roped with Gavin Free, a new Agent, and it’s all downhill from there. (Very downhill.)
trackmix for this fic!
words: 1,034 (overall: 21,548)
pairings this chapter: freewood
ao3 mirror
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18
i couldn't keep up so we cracked down and now everything is worse
It took everything Ryan had to not tell Gavin the extent of his feelings -- if there was anything Ryan had learnt about his boyfriend, it was that he didn't deal with his emotions well, evidenced by the rejection not that long ago. So he'd have to ease Gavin into the situation, not dunk his head underwater and hope he doesn't drown. But god did Ryan want to shout to the heavens about how in love he was, about how he loved his asshole boyfriend so much.
So Ryan kept his mouth shut and Michael seemed to understand, always nonverbally telling him if his gaze on Gavin was starting to become too adoring.
Sometimes Ryan wished Ray was as understanding though. "Dude," he said as Ryan stared at the place Gavin had been just moments before before Geoff had tackled him and Gavin went off running, Geoff after him. Ryan wondered what he'd done this time.
"Stop smiling and listen to me," Ray continued, tone exasperated but without its usual tint of affection, replaced by seriousness.
"If you don't tell that asshole you like him, he's going to assume you're not serious. And that might hurt a bit more than him freaking out that you like him."
Michael seemed to disagree, though he didn't voice his opinion. (Ryan could guess why, Ray seemed to want to please Michael at every opportunity since the poisoning incident -- he'd just agree with Michael's opinion straight away in a very unlike Ray way. Ryan didn't really get why Ray was so guilty, but it wasn't his place to ask so he didn't. At least Michael was as creeped out by Ray's actions as of late as Ryan was.)
"Ray," he told his friend, "there are few things as scary to Gav as feelings. And at least three of those involve feelings in an indirect way."
Ray nodded slowly, like Ryan wasn't getting the point of the conversation, "One of those things is him feeling trapped in a hopeless situation. He realises he loves you -- which he willeventually do -- and he's going to feel trapped in a relationship that isn't even serious and break it off."
Ryan countered, "If I tell him now, he's going to panic and leave anyway. Just sooner."
Ray frowned, but didn't agree with Ryan with a muttered, "Well, shit," so Ryan knew he'd have to have the same conversation in the future again.
Michael sighed, looking at the ceiling in a moment of just being done with his best friend and informed them both, very loudly, "If either of you ever starts dating another person with commitment issues, I'm going to punch you and them."
Ryan agreed to the terms on the account that the same rules applied to Michael. They shook hands, closing the deal while Ray looked on, amused, telling them that they can't do the deal without him. That lead to them trying to do a threeway handshake and almost breaking Ray's leg. Geoff stared at them for a solid 30 seconds at the medical wing before telling them that they were fuck-ups at life and that it as a miracle they were still alive.
Ryan agreed with him.
Jobs with Gavin were always a challenge. "No, Gavin, we're not going to set the room to explode -- no matter how much you and i want it to -- since we need the info from this room. No, it won't be a controlled explosion that won't hurt the terminal, I've seen your explosions. Yes, it will cool, but-- fuck it, let's do it, who cares?" was a surprisingly common conversation. If Gavin didn't suggest the ridiculous ideas, Ryan did and Geoff hated them, being the one who had to deal with all of their messes.
This time, it hadn't been Ryan's idea. Which was nice, Ryan thought Geoff would strangle him if he did something else that week.
"Gavin," he stifled laughter, "why do none of the mercenaries have pants?"
Gavin whispered back over comm, "It was either that or their guns, couldn't carry both of them."
"Good choice," Ryan replied, smiling, though he did wonder when Gavin had the opportunity. Shouldn't he be hacking?
But, whatever, it was funny, Ryan didn't give a shit.
"I'll take the assholes on your right first," Ryan told his partner, "Don't scream if you see some junk."
"Don't worry, the only genitalia I scream at upon seeing is yours."
Ryan paused, thinking, "Is that a weak insult or a really odd compliment?"
Gavin laughed as his only response.
Gavin had an odd expression on his face. It was one part affection, two parts scared shitless and three parts disgust.
Ryan knew what it meant immediately.
"Gavin?" he ventured, moving closer to Gavin as one would a scared and hurt animal. Ryan guessed technically that explained Gavin. (Humans were mammals, animals, and Gavin wasscared, though his hurt was more of a part of his personality than anything else, as was most Agents’-)
"Ryan," Gavin replied, tone casual and faked. If Ryan hadn't been able to see his expression, he would have guessed he was fine. It made sense that a computer specialist would put more effort into his voice not betraying him than his expression though, so Ryan didn't dwell on that.
"Want to play Halo today?" he asked, smiling and trying to look unassuming and harmless.
Gavin saw right through it, of course he would, but Ryan had bet on that grounding him to reality. Which didn't happen.
Fuck.
"No, I'd rather go to bed early today," Gavin replied, smiling in that same casual way. It clashed with the look in his eyes and made Ryan wince.
What he'd feared would happen had happened and he didn't know how to fix it.
"Next week?" he asked, trying to not seem the suffocating boyfriend Gavin had probably feared to end up with. Or maybe not -- he didn't know the cause of Gavin's commitment issues, after all.
Gavin got the calculating gleam in his eyes that he sometimes did, although Ryan could have sworn it looked more desperate than usual.
"Next week," he repeated thoughtfully.
Ryan didn't like that. Not one bit.
the only roads are cul-de-sacs
description: In which Agent Ryan Haywood gets roped with Gavin Free, a new Agent, and it’s all downhill from there. (Very downhill.)
trackmix for this fic!
words: 1,062 (overall: 21,548)
pairings this chapter: freewood
ao3 mirror
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18
you can stay with me forever or you could stay with me for now
Michael got better. In his words, "Nothing that simple can knock me down." And it was simple -- it made Ryan wonder if the whole thing was orchestrated as a threat or if they'd gotten Michael to a medical wing too soon, according the plan. The doctor had told them that if the worst had happened, Michael would have fallen into a coma. A way to get rid of him permanently, it was not. But for a time? It was the perfect way to make it seem like an accident. Agents were in a lot of pain most of the time and, as such, a lot of them took painkillers more than they should. Ryan didn't take them himself, too paranoid that someone was going to jump him, but it wouldn't have been against Michael's character, which made him a better target than, say, Ryan. No one who knew Michael would even bat an eyelash.
Ryan wondered who did it. B-OWN? But what'd they gain from it? They had no business with Ryan, not anymore, and he had forwarded along their message so it couldn't have been a threat. If it'd have been one, Gavin would have been the target, especially now that them dating was mostly common knowledge. Rarely did people target platonic relationships when a romantic one was available, out of a misconception that romantic love was more important.
It couldn't have been a threat to Hullum either, as them figuring it out too late would have left the point to be nil.
Unless-- it was a gamble? They didn't care if Michael died, fell into a coma or whatever or not, Michael was just another enemy Agent to them. B-OWN was trusting them to figure it out and if they didn't? Well, it wasn't their Agent in a coma.
Fuck, it kind of-- made Ryan furious. Fuck you, B-OWN, Michael was as important as any other human. Though, considering they killed and stole as much as R-GT does, maybe they didn't consider anyone as important as them, as R-GT did. Ryan was starting to follow that mindset, but he supposed it was on a matter of time, he spent almost all of his time between missions and staying at RG-T. Their ideals had to stick to him one day.
Ryan groaned, resenting his life, but not the organization who hadn't ever made him feel small, the thing he would never allow in his life ever again. He'd rather cut all ties with all of the people he considered most important than allow himself to feel small and weak and inferior. There were just some sacrifices that had to be made for his own mental health -- well, he wasn't healthy, but he'd rather keep what health he had -- no matter how much he'd rather not and let the problem fester and grow.
But, it hadn't come to that, not yet. And Ryan enjoyed his remaining time with his friends. It would undoubtedly end some day, Ryan had little concerns of that, but he could enjoy having friends who understood him until then.
“Gavin,” he said, watching the mess that was Gavin trying to cook, as he had for almost an hour, “that’s not how spaghetti is made. At all. At least google the recipe.”
Gavin looked up from the pot, looking annoyed, “It can’t be that difficult, right? I can figure it out.”
“Except the part where you haven’t,” Ryan reminded him.
“I have!” Gavin argued.
“Gavin, you just threw a bunch of ingredients in the pot that should not be in the pot.”
“They’ll add to the taste!”
“No,” Ryan told him, “no, they won't.”
(Later, after Ryan’d told Gavin how to make spaghetti but Gavin still added ingredients that Ryan didn’t approve of, Ryan tasted the food and told him, “It isn’t bad,” just to see Gavin try it, the smug look on his face change to disgust at the taste. Ryan ended up eating all of the spaghetti, while Gavin watched on in revolted disbelief.)
Ryan shivered and fully blamed Gavin for it. One hoodie wasn’t apparently enough to not be cold in Gavin’s room. Why did the guy have to keep his window open at all times? Was he not cold? How did he sleep with his room being so fucking cold?
“Gavin,” he whined, he admitted that, it was fucking cold, alright? “Close the window.” He eyed Gavin’s closet, wondering if he had blankets hidden away in there. He vaguely remembered Ray giving Gavin a birthday gift of a monstrous and fluffy orange blanket, they were all so tired of being in Gavin’s room while it was cold.
“There won’t be any fresh air,” Gavin had the gall to argue, like Ryan wasn’t freezing to death.
“There won’t be any fresh air in your lungs if I choke you either,” Gavin just ignored the threat. Unbelievable.
Ryan stood up, ignoring Gavin’s wide eyes (did he honestly think Ryan was going to choke him? Adorable.), moving towards the closet. Come on, there had to be some kinds of blankets there. And, after opening the third closet door (why did he have such a huge closet? He barely used one door), Ryan found jackpot. At least six blankets!
Ryan wound one around himself right there and then and took another one with him back to the couch. Gavin looked like he thought Ryan was going to choke him with that blanket. No, screw you, Gavin, all of the blankets were Ryan’s now.
Ryan placed the other blanket over his shoulders, sighing at the warmth. There were some good things about life after all.
Except Gavin, Gavin sucked.
“Are you mad?” Gavin asked cautiously, like he was ready to close the window if Ryan really was mad at him -- a thing he’d never done as long as Ryan had known him -- and Ryan wondered when he became so weak because his heart just melted.
“Nah, I’m quite happy,” he told his boyfriend, shifting closer to raise the second blanket over Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin didn’t get the first one though. That one stayed Ryan’s.
Gavin made a contented sound and Ryan told himself he wasn’t smiling in happiness. He killed people for a living and he… was a total sap and really loved his boyfriend.
He hid his smile at the thought against Gavin’s cheek.
the only roads are cul-de-sacs
description: In which Agent Ryan Haywood gets roped with Gavin Free, a new Agent, and it’s all downhill from there. (Very downhill.)
trackmix for this fic!
words: 1,481 (overall: 21,548)
pairings this chapter: freewood, raychael
ao3 mirror
warnings: ODing?, but, like, no one dies or anything. oh and talk of sexual acts but nothing happens
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18
he dreamt he was a king, safe in his bed
It took several weeks of dating -- and they were actually dating now -- for Ryan to realise that they'd never been on a date. The title was dating, was it not the real thing with no dates? Ryan would have to remedy that.
If only so that no one could tell him his relationship wasn't real (not that anyone would, apparently Ryan had a reputation).
Gavin didn't seem to like the idea much when Ryan brought it up. "Why can't we just kill someone instead? You like that, right?" he whined, making Ryan regret even bringing it up. Which was probably Gavin's plan. Asshole.
He put his foot down, "Gavin, we're going on a date. Whether you like it or not."
"Dates require consent," Gavin told him.
Ryan crossed his arms, "Not if I have blackmail on you, they don't."
"That's not consent," Gavin reminded him.
"I know, that's what I just said," Gavin sighed.
Which was how they'd found themselves at a restaurant, Gavin huffing as he ate his "even the salad is fancy," salad, while Ryan ate a soup so truly great he missed his nana. May her time in hell treat her well. She'd taught Ryan everything he knew, no one went to heaven after teaching a seven year old how to throw knives into the major arteries. Ryan looked forward to meeting her in the afterlife.
"So," Ryan trailed off, not out of awkwardness (he'd had worse situations with Gavin, honestly), but because he knew it'd bother Gavin. He never seemed to like it when Ryan acted uncertain (it might have been because it was always false, but, still, Gavin had seen him do worse things than act).
"Yes?" Gavin asked, annoyed, pausing from glaring at his salad (god, the look on his face when he'd seen that he'd ordered a salad was priceless) to turn towards Ryan. While not exactly a glare, the gaze seemed several times too annoyed for Ryan, Gavin was rarely this annoyed at him.
"Why don't you like dates?" he asked, more curious about if Gavin would answer than what that answer would be.
Gavin stopped his glaring enough to glance around the room in an exaggerated manner, one that was unlike his usual joking exaggeration. Ryan knew that the next thing out of his mouth was something to be ignored--
"Would rather I suck you off in Meg and Ashley's bathroom, you biting the fingers I have in your mouth as to not alert them to your state, than this."
--Or! Maybe not.
But, still, the sudden -- but certainly not unwelcome -- comment didn't make Ryan forget about the exaggerated glance around. In fact, it was so against Gavin's usual "everyone judges me" attitude that it brought attention more than it made Ryan forget.
Why glance around and then bring attention to that? Why something so different?
What was around them, was the obvious question, one that Ryan already knew the answer to, his own paranoia would not allow him to be here otherwise.
They had a corner table, though Ryan had given Gavin the seat with the wall to his back. It didn't really allow Ryan to enjoy the evening as much as he would have liked, too busy being on edge, but it seemed to make Gavin relax.
They were surrounded by people. Not public transport at 8 am bad, but it was certainly not pleasant, being reminded of how they might be in danger every time a waiter moved past the,.
The staff had seemed clean, when Ryan had looked into their records, having a few parking tickets overall, but Ryan would have not even stepped foot inside a restaurant with a 100% clean staff. But it was always possible that even after his careful, meticulous work, he'd missed something. Something that Gavin was now noticing.
“How’re you liking today?” he asked, hoping that Gavin would give him more clues (if not outright say what was the issue).
Gavin looked at him in disbelief, “You blackmailed me into a date.”
Well, no hints in that, not ones that Ryan could notice, anyway.
“Well, technically,” Ryan started, ignoring the groan from Gavin that followed, “no blackmail was involved. I just told you there might be and you agreed.”
Gavin stared blankly at the guy sitting at the table behind Ryan, muttering under his breath. Probably something insulting. (He wondered if Gavin knew that Ryan felt more at ease when Gavin was looking behind him, knew that Gavin would tell him if there was something suspicious happening.)
“Seriously, Rye,” Gavin said, moving his gaze back to the salad he seemed to hate so much, “we could be shagging right now.”
“Not until after dessert,” Ryan told him, taking pleasure in the dramatic groan that followed.
(Later, he realised that Gavin had been trying to manipulate him with the glancing, had wanted kick Ryan’s paranoia into overdrive so they’d leave, and they had a long chat about what was okay to do and what really fucking wasn’t.)
“So,” Meg said, looking at the TV playing some kind of cartoon that Michael and Ray seemed to be into more than Meg and Ryan were, if the constant yelling from Ray and transfixed staring from Michael were anything to go by.
“You’re dating now?” she asked, side-eyeing him. Ryan thought she sounded concerned but didn’t know why.
Ray let out a loud, “About damn time!” that everyone else ignored. Michael didn’t even seem to realise anything but the cartoon was happening. Ryan was becoming concerned.
“Yes,” he told Meg, staring at the back of Michael's head. Maybe his first clue should have been how he had thrown himself on the ground and laid there the moment the cartoon started. Ray hadn’t been concerned, however, so Ryan had just went with it.
“Are you happy?” she asked, frowning, and Ryan knew that she knew something, something she’d rather not share. It felt odd, as she’d not kept secrets from him so obviously before, like she didn’t want to say but she wanted him to realise something was wrong.
“I’m quite content,” he told her and wondered if there was cheating involved -- no, she’d tell him if it were so -- or if she had dirt on Gavin, not important dirt but something someone dating him would find significant.
“That’s good,” she told him, smiling.
“Yo, assholes,” Ray said, a touch of concern in his voice, “can someone help me, like, I don’t know, carry Michael to the medical wing or something?”
Ryan was by his side immediately, “What’s wrong?” he crouched in front of Michael, noticing his quick breath and slack -- if not confused -- expression.
“What?” Michael asked, blinking, “why’re you here?”
“OD?” Meg asked, checking Ray’s eyes as a precaution, though Ray was quick to inform her that he might joke about doing drugs but it wasn’t something he was actually into.
“He doesn’t appear to be hot,” Ryan was quick to inform her and it really showed how concerned Ray was that no joke followed the statement, “breathing is faster than normal, but his attitude sluggish. I’d say even if not OD, it’s some kind of sickness and the medical wing is the best place to go.”
Ray told him if he dropped Michael, he’d skin him alive and Ryan didn’t think it was a joke.
Apparently it was aspirin poisoning. When they’d told Michael this, writing it down instead of saying it outloud because Michael’s hearing wasn’t the best right then, he’d scoffed, “I don’t use aspirin.” Ray had -- hesitantly -- agreed with that.
“I do though,” Ray told Ryan and Meg, “and I’ve noticed them disappearing recently. I thought I was just-- using them myself.”
“And you don’t normally notice taking your medication?” Ryan asked.
Ray winced, shrugging, “I don’t-- notice a lot of things.”
Ryan didn’t ask.
“So you think someone was feeding Michael aspirin?” Meg asked, thinking.
“It’s likely,” Ray told her, but he looked nervous, like he was afraid he was doing it. Ryan didn’t even want to know at this point.
Meg hummed, “Doesn’t aspirin only dissolve in warm water, Ryan?”
Ryan thought about it, nodding, before adding, “Or coffee.”
Well, they had a likely cause, that was something.
(Later, when he was less dizzy and could hear properly, Michael told them that it was a wild goose chase, as he wasn’t as paranoid as them all, he didn’t give a fuck where he got his caffeine intake from, he even bought cafeteria food instead of making it.
That was when Gavin crashed into the room, yelling, “My boi!” really loudly and practically tackling Michael. Ryan felt lighter, like he wasn’t as concerned anymore. They’ll be fine. They’re all safe -- Geoff had dropped by earlier -- and they were going to find out what the fuck was going on.)