Author: http://teamcrazydicks.tumblr.com
Recipient: http://oxfordsemicolon-rebel.tumblr.com
Summary: It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. Gavin wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Now he’s stuck in a hospital room with the Vagabond, waiting to get discharged. There are a lot of things they both don’t want to tell the other about.
[For the prompt 'FakeAHCrew!AU. Person B is injured on a heist, the rest of the crew goes to comfort them. Unknown to the crew, however, is that Person A was also injured but doesn't want to reveal the injury for whatever reason.']
Warnings: Rated T, minor description of non-fatal injuries
WordCount: 5328
-
The Fakes didn’t go to hospitals. Not if they could help it. That was one of the unfortunate downsides to having a face synonymous with a spot on the LSPD’s most wanted list. They had the foresight to have an RN on their payroll instead, and a few industrially-stocked med kits in most places they might land after a job went south.
So when Gavin came to and, through a haze of drugs, pain, and exhaustion, blinked his eyes open and deduced he was in a hospital room, the thought that lazily floated to the forefront of his mind was, shit. His eyes tracked along the wall, the hanging TV that was off, the open window that showed it was sometime in the afternoon. He wasn’t cuffed to the bed, and there weren’t any cops at least. That was good. He relaxed again, knowing he was too weak to struggle to his feet and break out.
The next thought he had didn’t float so much as navigate through the mental debris currently clouding his brain was that it was supposed to have been a simple reconnaissance mission. Easy. In and out. Little to no chance of getting shot. Gavin was the hacker, the tech guy. He didn’t handle getting shot well. Save that for someone like –
Gavin jumped in his skin when the door banged open, grunted in pain a second later from the involuntary movement. The room had a small entryway, probably where the bathroom was, so there was a stretched pause between the door shutting again and the intruder appearing in Gavin’s line of sight.
Ryan stepped into the room. It took a moment for Gavin to realize it actually was Ryan; he had only caught the Vagabond out of the makeup and mask a handful of times, so it took a moment for his eyes to comprehend what he was seeing. That, and the guy had materialized wearing baggy jeans and a sweater, for Christ’s sake. His long hair had been cut short. He was giving Gavin an eyeful of some expression. Anger? Blame? Then he just sighed, twisting a little Styrofoam cup in his hand to take a sip from the opened top.
Gavin tried to unstick his mouth and ask if the other man had come to put him out of his misery. But Ryan beat him to the punch, speaking up in that usually dry tone of his. “Of course you wake up in the five minutes it takes me to get some coffee.” He took another, pointed sip out of the cup.
Gavin tried to eke out an apology, but all that seemed to come out was air. Ryan placed the cup by Gavin’s bedside and moved behind his line of sight. He heard the sound of water being poured and was, some moments later, presented with his own cup with a long straw. Ryan held the cup while he drank. “Michael and I are alright,” Ryan prefaced. “You were – well you weren’t on death’s doorstep or anything, but you were out of it for almost three days. Lots of superficial cuts; you’re on antibiotics for the infection on some of your deeper lacerations. They had to dig out some shrapnel in your abdomen and they were considering some physical therapy, due to the fact that they don’t want you to move around a lot for a while.”
Gavin looked up at Ryan, processing everything he said. “A while?”
Ryan shrugged. “They wanted to play it by ear, I guess. Don’t worry, as soon as you can stand I’m getting you out of here. If you need extra help, we can get somebody, do it in the privacy of your place.” Gavin nodded, leaning further against the pillows. Ryan put his water cup on the bedside table and took a seat next to his bed.
“How did you even get us in here without the police finding out?” Gavin took a breath. “I mean, I probably look like someone who survived a bomb attack.”
“Yeah, had to say something about letting off too many fireworks and not getting away in time.”
“Fireworks?”
“Considering we have a lake house and like throwing barbeques with our neighbors.”
Gavin squinted. “We do? Since when?”
“Since you needed medical attention and we’re the only two people in the Crew who can have a normal civilian identity.” He held up his left hand, Gavin noticed there was a gold band on it.
“Don’t tell me…”
“Yep. I’m carrying yours. You’re a size nine, right?”
He was. Gavin didn’t need to think long and hard about how Ryan might have figured that one out. “I don’t know why you’d even ask, as if you didn’t already size me for that and my casket, too.” Ryan smiled.
“I didn’t size you for your casket. I don’t think they even do that anymore. You think I’m making you your own coffin? I’m a busy man.”
“Not so busy that you couldn’t sit by your apparent husband’s bedside.” Finding that his hand was fine to move, he drummed a pattern on the sheets, then yawned.
“Well,” Ryan said, “I was kind of poking at what you got from the USB stick. Trying to see if I could get any damning evidence on those guys. Some locations, names.”
“Anything?”
“I found the name Lemuria, not sure if that’s their gang’s name or some drug or what. It’s all encrypted, and I can’t get any further without a cipher.”
With some effort, Gavin rolled onto his side. He sighed; despite the effort of moving, his back ached from laying that way for so long. “I made a de-encryption program a while back that uses a lot of the more popular ciphers. We can program more in too, if we can find any that might work. If you call Geoff I can tell him to bring my laptop over and –”
“No,” Ryan interrupted.
“No?”
“Not yet. You just woke up.”
“Yeah, exactly. I’m awake.”
“After being out for three days.”
“What, you think I don’t know my own code?”
“No, I just –” There was a loud rap on the door; a moment later a woman in maroon scrubs came through the door.
“Oh! Mr. Foster, you’re awake, that’s great. How are you feeling?”
Gavin blinked. “Uh, a bit sore, from… everything, yeah. But good, otherwise. In one piece.” She smiled at him.
“I’ll grab the doctor in a few minutes then. We’ll see if we can get you something for the pain. Did your husband explain your injuries?” Gavin’s eyes slid over to Ryan, who now had on an expression of worried fondness. He swallowed.
“Uh, yes, he did. Lucky he was here when I woke up, yeah? Like, like sleeping beauty. Right?”
The nurse forced a laugh. “Right. I’ll be back in a minute.” She shut the door.
“Sleeping beauty?” Ryan asked, after a moment.
“Whatever, I have to pretend we’re together, don’t I?”
“So you throw in fairy tale references? You might be laying it on a little thick.”
“You’re laying it on a little thick, sod off.” Gavin thought about turning so his back was to the other man, but the idea made most of the muscles in his abdomen twinge in pain, so he stayed where he was.
“Sod off,” Ryan echoed. “How terribly British of you.”
“W – I am British, what are you on about?” Ryan shrugged.
“You could be Welsh. Or Irish, right?”
“I could not.”
“Scottish.”
“Don’t even –” Gavin squinted. “What’s your name?”
“…Feeling alright there?”
“No you knob, I mean your – cover name, or whatever.”
“Oh, uh. Mark Forster. And you’re Thomas Forster.”
“Okay, so, Mark,” Gavin growled with annoyance. “I’ve had it up to bloody here with you.”
Ryan, surprisingly, laughed. “Did you just ask about our fake names so you could yell at me?”
“You said I was laying it on thick. Fighting is like – taking it off, then, right?”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
---
The doctor had checked on him some time later, and keeping up the charade of being a naïve man that was too careless around some fireworks while his vitals were checked and the doctor not-so-subtly warned him about being more responsible had, unfortunately, taken a lot out of him. Well, that or the morphine drip. Either way, he slipped back to sleep without really noticing. He may have had a dream. Something with deserts, a mission that should have been easy but wasn’t, a trap, a bomb, sound and light melded together…
He was slowly woken by the sound of voices. Someone else was in the room. He didn’t tense, knowing that would just cause more pain, instead he laid still and tried to make out the conversation.
“…Yeah, here, don’t spend it all in one place.” A man’s voice said. There was some shuffling, stuff moving around.
“Thanks, but really – why are you here?”
“Geoff says he needs the codes, Ryan.” Gavin nearly furrowed his brow at that voice. That couldn’t be Michael, could it?
“I’m working on it.” The sound of keys being hit on a laptop.
“…Why can’t Gavin work on it?” There was a petulant edge to his tone. Definitely Michael. Gavin nearly interrupted them, wanting to make sure the other was okay and figure out why the hell he was here, but his natural drive to eavesdrop got the best of him.
“He’s a bit incapacitated, as you can see.”
“Well if you woke him up –”
“I’m not going to – Michael, do not.” There was a pause. Someone shifting on their feet.
“Thought you said you could get him out of here soon.”
“Soon. Not yet. He’s not… I don’t want to break him.”
Michael scoffed. “Look, I know Gavin is like, 130 pounds soaking wet. But he’s hardier than you’d think. He hates it when he thinks he’s laying around doing nothing. He already hates being behind the scenes all the time.”
“I know. Just… He was talking, earlier. I think he can go home tomorrow. Or the next day. Tell Geoff I’m not breaking him out until I know it won’t actually break him.”
“…Fine. Yeah, alright. You’re probably right. But as soon as –”
“I promise.”
“Okay. Um. Do you want me to – ?”
“No. I mean. No thanks, cover, and everything.”
“I’m sure even the most attentive of husbands are allowed to go home, Ryan.” There was a pause, and Michael sighed.
“I mean, it’s just – you don’t have the most airtight disguise?” Gavin desperately wanted to open his eyes now.
“What are you talking about? It’s fine.” Another pause, Gavin imagined it was full of Ryan giving Michael a doubtful stare. “Alright, well, text me if you need something. Or if he needs something. And if he gets worse, or whatever – let me know. I’ll see you guys.” Footsteps, and a door swinging shut. Gavin exhaled very slowly through his nose.
“I know you’re awake,” Ryan murmured. Gavin cracked his eye open. “I could practically feel you spying on us.” Gavin answered with a smile, and Ryan rolled his eyes, his lips twitching despite himself.
“What were talking on about?”
“Couldn’t you tell?” Gavin shrugged, content to play dumb for the moment. Ryan shut the laptop he had been using, carefully putting it under his chair and resting a tote bag – which Michael had probably given him – on top. “The rest of the Crew’s getting… antsy about what files you might have found when you got that USB drive into the computers at their base. It’s all encrypted but you can figure it out, I imagine.”
“I mean, yeah, probably. I could take a look, but you’re probably going to say no, yeah?”
“No’s right. So far as we know they were just distributing drugs; no reason to treat them like a gang going to war with us yet.”
“Even if they did set up a bomb in their sham base and have it detonate when we tried to leave?”
“So they’ve got secrets and don’t want competition. We don’t have the resources or the man power to go off on a crusade just yet.” Gavin hummed, trying to remain somewhat reasonable. Ryan had a point, as he usually did.
“So you’re trying to put off any retaliation for as long as you can?”
“Any rash retaliation.”
“Ooh, going behind Geoff’s back using me, huh? That’s dirty, I like it.”
“What? It’s not just that. I wasn’t lying about you being out of commission either. You still can barely sit up right now.”
“I can sit up. You saw me walk to the bathroom earlier and everything!”
“After I saw you fail to sit up and need me to pull you to your feet, yeah.” Gavin sighed. Stupid Ryan and his stupid points.
---
He was out in the desert. There was grit in his teeth, sand digging into the side of his face where he was laying. He squinted, seeing the fiery remains of a blown out building. The hideout he went to inspect. He knew he was injured, but he didn’t feel pain, not yet. Instead he kept staring, watching the flames crawl up in the sky, higher and higher. The glass blew out of the windows, leaving smoking holes in the building.
A figure stood in the upper floor. Somehow, their shadow was darker than the smoke. Gavin squinted, trying to breathe in something that wasn’t kicked up sand or ash.
It was Ryan. No. The Vagabond. Still in the skull mask, melting from the heat. He didn’t seem to react any other way, just standing in the window, watching him as black rubber dripped down his face.
Another part of the building exploded, chunks of brick coming right towards him.
Gavin sat up in bed, breathing harshly. He was distantly aware of how his abdomen pulled and stretched painfully from his use of those muscles. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, then pressing them to his eyes for a moment. It was a bad dream, even if it was very loosely based on real events. “Just a dream,” he whispered to himself. When he moved his hands away, he realized it was nighttime, and Ryan was gone. A dim light shining from the room’s entryway suggested he was in the bathroom, or had at least left the light on, should Gavin need stumble his way to the toilet at two in the morning.
…Which may have been the case. With a steeling breath, Gavin swung his legs to the side and stood up, hobbling over to the bathroom door. It had been left ajar, so Gavin just pushed it the rest of the way open. He squinted as his vision filled with bright light.
“…Ryan?”
Ryan’s sweater was tossed over the closed toilet lid, and the man himself stood at the sink. Gavin could see a flash of red from the mirror, and when Ryan turned to face him, he realized the color was from an angry line of broken flesh along Ryan’s side, which the other had tried to patch up with thread. It was holding, but it obviously wasn’t healing well, if the irritated look and the mess of bloodied gauze in the sink was any indication.
“I thought I shut the door,” Ryan mumbled after a pregnant pause.
“What happened?” Gavin hissed, stepping further into the room in case Ryan got the idea to shut him out.
“Nothing I can’t handle. I’m just changing the bandages.”
Gavin’s eyes grew wide, hand coming up as though he was about to reach out and touch Ryan’s wound. “You got hit in that explosion, didn’t you?”
“It’s nothing, Gavin, go back to bed.”
“It’s not nothing, Ryan. Look at it! It’s infected, or – it won’t heal right.”
“It’ll heal just fine, Gavin,” Ryan snapped. “Stop yelling so I can patch it up.”
“We’re in a hospital!” Gavin said, edging closer, hand still outstretched. “Why don’t you have them fix it for you?”
Ryan turned around, face twisted into a scowl. His mouth was opened, ready to hurl another insult, but he didn’t seem to realize how close Gavin was, or where his arm was; instead Gavin’s forearm knocked painfully against the gash, and Ryan hissed through his teeth, pressing hard at the wound. Gavin looked on for a moment, the way Ryan hunched from the pain. He backed up a step. Then another, gears turning in his head.
“Ryan,” Gavin said slowly, “I’m gonna call the nurse. And you’re gonna make up some bullshit story, and you’re gonna get actual stitches. Please.” Ryan frowned, fingers pressing harder against his side. “For me?”
The renewed pain did most of the convincing, and after a moment Ryan’s stance wilted. “Fine. For you, Gav.” Gavin internally breathed a sigh of relief. Even though Ryan had said yes, he didn’t take his eyes off the other man, backing out of the bathroom to maintain a line of sight for as long as he could. He dashed towards the bed, hitting the call button with his thumb before edging back to the bathroom’s doorway. Ryan hadn’t moved, still staring out at him.
His eyes were blue, so blue, and Gavin would have given anything to have his sunglasses on, to be able to look away without the risk of losing whatever game they were playing.
Both their heads snapped towards the entryway when one of the nurses knocked on the door and let herself in.
“My husband hurt himself,” Gavin said immediately, pointing at the side he was still holding, “and he didn’t tell anyone.” Ryan shot him a glare.
“Yes, thank you, dear, I was about to tell her that,” he supplied.
“Well you didn’t the first time around, did you?” Gavin replied, more than a little righteous.
The nurse gave Ryan a look that very much meant he’d be getting an earful later. “Why don’t we have you fill out some paperwork while we wait for an exam room to open, sir? Follow me.” Ryan hastily grabbed at the sweater still on the toilet, pressing it to his side. He glanced over at Gavin.
“Uh, is it possible that – afterwards – I can come back here? I don’t want to… leave my husband alone for too long.” She looked between the two of them.
“We’ll see what we can do.” She moved to the side, sweeping her arm so that Ryan walked in front of her.
“See you soon,” Gavin murmured. Ryan gave him another glance. It wasn’t icy or heated or annoyed. It was something else. Something he couldn’t place.
Before he could try, Ryan murmured a “see you,” before ducking out of the room. The door shut behind them.
Gavin sighed, looking down at himself. There was a small smear of blood along his forearm. He washed it off in the sink, tossing away the bandages. He splashed water on his face. Somehow, despite the drugs and residual tiredness, he had a feeling he wasn’t going back to bed just yet.
---
Gavin was refreshing his twitter feed for the seventh time when Ryan walked in, wearing a blue sweatshirt with the name of the hospital along the chest. “Hey,” he said, shutting the door. Gavin saw he was still favoring his injured side. Actual stitches probably pinched more than the gauze and fairy dust that Ryan had been using to keep himself together before.
“Hey. Nice shirt.”
Ryan tugged at the hem of it. “Yeah, well. Something about not wanting to put on an old sweater covered in dried blood, I guess.”
“Could’ve just called someone and have them bring a shirt down.” Ryan gave him a look. “What, you could have done.”
Ryan sighed, and instead of sitting down in his usual arm chair, he sat on the edge of Gavin’s bed, by his waist. He angled his body so he didn’t have to twist himself to look over at the younger man. “I’d appreciate it, if, um. You didn’t tell them about – this.”
“And miss out on prime blackmail material?” Gavin said with a smirk. The way Ryan was looking at him made him think his attempt at a joke had fallen flat. “Hey,” he started, touching Ryan’s arm. “Did you know when you first joined the Crew, that I kind of hated you?”
“You didn’t hate me,” Ryan said immediately. “You were scared of me.” Gavin felt a flush rise to his cheeks.
“Well – same thing.”
“No. Hate and fear and definitely different things.”
“The point is, either way, I wasn’t real keen on you. Thought you were, well – all the stuff that made you scary. You were the Vagabond, and you’d probably find out where I lived and slit my throat, or something. Michael said I was being a prick about it, but you know how stubborn I can get.” He picked at the jagged line of his thumbnail for a moment, trying to get his thoughts straight. “Then there was this time, after some job we did or something, and everyone went out to celebrate, got absolutely trashed, and you, ‘cause of course you don’t drink – had to take us all home. You even had to take Geoff n’ me through the door.” Watching up through his eyelashes, he saw Ryan crack a small smile. “I guess the right word’s selfless. And dealing with drunk people is absolutely the worst. ‘Specially us. Guess after that I started thinking, well, there’s more to you than a mask. You’re one of us. Really, properly, one of us.” He let out a small cough, mouth feeling dry for more ways than one. “Guess what I’m getting at is – you are more than a mask, Ryan. Even if its… convenient for you to not be, most of the time. Doesn’t mean any of us see you as this unfeeling evil mastermind or something. Doesn’t mean you should see yourself that way either.”
He could see Ryan twist his mouth the way he did when he was trying to work out a problem in his head. It carried on like that for a handful of agonizing, pulling moments, him curled up in the hospital bed he was getting increasingly sick of, Ryan hunched in that blue sweatshirt that was maybe even more ridiculous than the sweater he once had on. Is this what he looked like on the odd weekend, Gavin couldn’t help but think – did Ryan have an old hoodie and sweatpants that he’d lounge around in all day? What did he do in those quiet moments when there was no mask, no face paint, no jacket; just himself, the man, and no one else around to put on an act for? Ryan’s eyes flickered back over to him and he stiffened slightly, as though the other could read his thoughts.
“So you’re not going to tell anyone?” he reiterated.
“Uh – not if you quit being an idiot and admit if you need help,” Gavin said slowly. Ryan sucked on his teeth, nodded once, and stuck a hand out.
“Then we have a deal.” After a second, Gavin reached out, shaking Ryan’s hand once. His fingers were calloused, rough, and warm.
They parted, and the other man gingerly sat down in the hospital chair. Gavin put his phone on the bedside table, curling up on his side to face Ryan. “Stiches hurt?”
“I always forget how unpleasant they are when they first put them in.” Gavin winced in sympathy, grateful in retrospect he was unconscious when they dug around at him. “Didn’t help that I waited so long before getting them done right.”
“How’d you manage that?”
Ryan shrugged a shoulder. “Once they put you in for surgery I snuck around and found some supplies. I figured I’d be set for a few hours or so, but when they finished with you and said you couldn’t leave for a while…”
“You could have left,” Gavin said pointedly. “I wasn’t going anywhere. Wouldn’t have even known you were gone, matter of fact.”
“Gavin, we had all almost been blown up. Excuse me if I was feeling a little paranoid. If those guys somehow were able to trace our whereabouts, I mean, hell, we’re both practically sitting ducks right now. I don’t think they’re tracking us, but…”
“You didn’t want to risk it,” Gavin finished, “got it. You’re rather thoughtful, aren’t you?”
Ryan yawned, pressing a fist to his mouth. “I’m full of thoughts, might as well put some of them into action.” He slumped further into his chair. “Forgot how much getting proper medical attention will take out of you, too,” he added.
“Gonna go to sleep?”
“Might as well.” Ryan had been gone a few hours, but it was still dark outside, for now.
“Can’t be comfortable in the chair.”
“It’s not,” He shifted again. “I’ve made it this far.”
“Well now I know you’ve got fresh stitches in you – maybe we can switch spots?”
“No – you’ve got it worse than me, you need the bed.”
“You’re going to get a neck cramp or something.”
“I can handle a neck cramp, Gavin.” Ryan replied easily.
“Well – we could try to share, I guess,” he said. “You know, technically the bed’s bigger than a twin. We could squeeze.” Ryan’s brows raised minutely.
“…You sure?”
“We’re both tired, and –” Gavin couldn’t exactly explain what else. Something had obviously shifted between them in the last couple of hours. A silent admittance of something that they knew was there, but didn’t realize was a mutual feeling. They’d had a ‘moment’, as Michael probably would have said. Didn’t that count for something? He moved to the far side of the mattress and turned down the covers. “Come on.”
Gavin was half surprised when Ryan actually got up, kicking off his shoes and slowly settling into bed, facing him. Immediately it was obvious that it was a tight fit. Parts of them were either pressed together or nearly touching; Ryan’s body heat immediately flooded against Gavin’s front, and a warmth settled in his stomach. Ryan rearranged the pillows into something more comfortable. “This alright?” he asked. Gavin honestly didn’t know what bit he was referring to.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, not sure where along Ryan’s face he was allowed to linger on. Instead he just closed his eyes, willing himself to the edge of sleep. Ryan was here, he rationalized. He was safe. They both were. There was no reason he had to stay up and wait any longer.
He fell asleep much sooner than he thought he would.
---
A nurse coming to check on their vitals woke them up; in the back of his mind, Gavin was thankful their cover story had them legally married. Somehow it made it a few degrees less awkward.
Even when they were alone again, Ryan stayed in bed with him, staring up at the ceiling. Gavin’s chin rested on the top of his shoulder.
“Now that we’re both patients,” Gavin started, “how’re we gonna get out of here?”
“Not up for sneaking out?” He shook his head. “I texted Michael last night, said we’d probably be ready to leave by today. I’m sure he’s planning something.” Gavin hummed in acknowledgement, staring blankly up at Ryan’s profile.
“Being here is not fun,” he managed. “Glad you decided to keep me company.”
“I guess I’m glad you forced me to get stitches.”
“You guess.” Ryan chuckled, turning to face Gavin full-on.
“It’s nice to have someone looking out for me, then. Even if I didn’t think I needed it. How about that?”
“Better.” Their noses were nearly touching, they were so close. Ryan looked soft; bags under his eyes and the sunlight hitting his hair, pillow creases on his cheek.
Gavin was still surprised to find out that Ryan’s kiss was as soft as he looked. In all honesty, he had expected something harder; Ryan trying to get a reaction out of him, or gain an upper hand, like a mind game. Or maybe he just never wanted to think about it, was too afraid to put the effort into it and feed the thought more power. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not because of nerves, but because Ryan’s fingers were nervously hovering just above them, wanting but unsure if he could touch.
Carefully, Gavin reached up, his own hand tucking along the side of Ryan’s neck, and then he felt fingers brushing the hair along his nape.
Gavin hadn’t really thought about what it would be like, him and Ryan. There was always… something there, but it had never been made concrete. He just got the impressions of things, how they’d clash and fit together. Their usually erratic sleep schedules; who would make the coffee. Would kissing someone with a beard feel too rough after a while? Ryan weaved the perfect couple story so easily for him at the hospital; could it have been like that? Would it have been? It was all probably too much to think of, this early in the morning with so little sleep. Or maybe Gavin would never be well rested enough to have all the answers when it came to the man that was still kissing him, holding him carefully, sharing the too-small hospital bed.
The sound of a phone buzzing drew them both apart. Ryan reached for his cell, squinting adorably at the screen as he made out the letters. His mouth turned, before splitting into a grin.
“Text from Michael,” he said, showing Gavin. “Breakout in fifteen minutes. Keep a lookout for Lindsay.”
“He’s dragging Lindsay into this?” Gavin asked with a groan. Ryan kissed him again in answer.
---
Fifteen minutes later, and it turned out Lindsay was an absolutely necessary element. She opened the door dressed in cat-covered scrubs, pushing a wheelchair. “Get in, fucker,” she said, gesturing to the thing. Gavin did not feel particularly at ease getting situated in said wheelchair, even as Ryan kept up the pace, walking by his side. Lindsay actually chatted with a doctor while they all shared the elevator going down. Then, as they passed reception, she let out a good hearted laugh. “Man, hospitals are too trusting.”
“You could say that,” Ryan answered, walking through the front parking lot. Michael was waiting for them in a nondescript car, honking the horn when they caught his line of sight. Gavin managed to slide into the back seat without hurting himself, and Ryan joined him. Michael and Lindsay sat up front, neither noticing the way Ryan very carefully drew the seatbelt over himself.
“Are we just leaving the wheelchair there?” Gavin asked, as they pulled away.
“Apparently,” Ryan muttered, looking out the back window. “I wouldn’t have minded a free wheelchair.”
“’Course you wouldn’t,” Gavin said, before tapping on the driver’s seat in front of him. “Michael! How you feeling, boi?”
“Eh, got another scar, but I’ll live.” They pulled onto the highway. “What about you? How was it being Ryan’s fake husband for half the week?”
“Did you have to kiss?” Lindsay asked.
“You always want my friends to kiss,” Michael complained.
“I mean, you could kiss your friends, but you always say no.”
“Because I’m literally married to you! Why would I try to go around kissing other people?’ That devolved into an argument between the two of them. Gavin let out a breath and relaxed into his seat. Hanging out with Ryan had been fun, but he had missed everyone else, too.
As he relaxed against the leather, his arm stretched out, catching Ryan’s hand. He nearly pulled back, but Ryan was faster, entwining their fingers and giving a quick squeeze. He looked over. The older man was staring out the window, but Gavin could practically feel the smile the other had on.
Gavin felt himself smile at the thought. He squeezed back.
