Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I have an announcement to make!” 

Ryan stops mid-chew, eyeing Steven where he’s standing at the head of their table. He has his arms flung wide, and a sunny smile on his face, and Ryan is prepared to sprint out of the dining hall at top speed if need be. By the looks on a few of the others’ faces, he’s not the only one. 

“This ought to be good,” Quinta sighs, just to prove his point. 

Steven pouts. “Hey. This is a real announcement. With a real event happening.” 

“It’s not just you announcing that you’re in love with Andrew to the entire student body again?” Sara asks innocently, batting her eyelashes. 

“That was one time,” Andrew steps in, pointing his fork at her. “And Steven was still a little drunk.” 

Curly snorts, not looking up from his phone. “If you think Steven needs to be drunk to scream ‘I’m in love with Andrew Ilnyckyj!’ into the middle of the dining hall then you don’t know him so well after all, Andrew Ilnyckyj.” 

“Gang, you’re diverting away from my important speech!” Steven waits for them all to settle down and look up at him, and when they do, he tells them: “Andrew and I are claiming dibs on hosting Friendsmas this year.”

They all cheer appropriately, and Steven curls his arm around Andrew’s shoulders, grinning at everyone like he’s just given a speech for an award and not an invitation. 

“Glad that we’re not doing it at the foursome’s townhouse again.” Annie gives the members of their group in question a look over her calculus homework. “Nothing says happy holidays like a crabby old white lady calling the landlord up because we’re loudly complaining about how shitty Rudolph 2 is.” 

Keith winces apologetically. “Yeah, not one of our finer moments as hosts. Sorry about that.” 

“The argument still stands. Rudolph 2 is in the top three worst Christmas movies ever created, and that bitchy witch can suck it.” Eugene proclaims, still chewing through a mouthful of pancakes. 

In an attempt to keep the conversation on track and not off in a direction about gender stereotypes in Christmas movies, Adam asks: “Are we doing the same food arrangements this year?” 

“We can play it by ear and move some stuff around, but if you guys want to do it mostly the same then we definitely can.” 

“Sweet,” Jen says. “I’ll bring something dessert-y so I can eat half of it before the party starts.” 

“We’ll cover the main course foods,” Andrew offers, gesturing between himself and Steven. 

“I can bring a huge salad again.” Adam says. 

It goes like so down the line; Curly will bring churros and a fancy dip with homemade tortilla chips; Sara will make one of her beautiful fruit boards and dips; Quinta, to counteract, will make one of her beautiful veggie boards and dips; Annie will make her delicious, mouthwatering pan of tteokbokki; Keith, Zach, Ned, and Eugene offer to help make the main sides for their dinner, like mashed potatoes, cooked veggies, mac n’ cheese, etc. 

“I’ll make up my homemade taquitos,” Ryan supplies when it’s his turn. “And beg my mom to help me make guac.” 

Next to him, Shane (who has steadily been shoveling bacon into his mouth for the better part of ten minutes) finally stops eating enough to say: “As you all know, I’m absolutely fucking terrible at cooking and almost burned our apartment down once trying to make ramen, so I’ll bring the alcohol.” 

“It’s settled, then!” Andrew proclaims, and then takes a victorious bite of an apple. 

“Hey, not so fast.” Steven says, wiggling a finger at his boyfriend. 

Andrew stares up at where Steven is still standing, obviously confused, but then his face clears. “Oooooh yeah. Sorry, baby--take it away.” 

Ryan feels his Steven Senses tingling, and based on the expression on Quinta’s face, she’ll still prepared to split, too. They catch each other’s eyes and silently make an escape plan with their hands where Steven can’t see. Shane must see, because Ryan hears him choke back a laugh. 

“In addition to hosting Friendsmas this year, we also decided to add something new to the festivities!” 

“If you take us all to the mall to meet Santa again, I’m going to permanently delete your Comp final.” Jen threatens. 

“It has something to do with Santa, but not sitting on his lap!” Steven enthuses, and Sara puts her head in her hands. 

Eugene raises both eyebrows. “I’d hurry up and finish that thought, dude. That sounds pretty incriminating.” 

“You guys are children,” Andrew says, at the same time that Steven says, “We’re doing a Secret Santa exchange this year!” 

There’s silence for a few moments while everyone sits on this and thinks it over. Ryan, for one, is in love with anything that involves carefully picking out a gift for someone and getting them something that is fitted to their special interests and personality. But he knows that other people might not be so excited by this idea, or might not have the extra cash to take it on, so he sits still and waits. 

Eventually, Zach nods slowly and says, “Steven, this might be your best idea yet.” 

“This might be your only best idea,” Adam agrees, monotone, and Andrew flings a grape at his head. 

Steven makes a ‘pshaw’ noise and pretends to throw hair over his shoulder. “Well, you know. I’m full of great thoughts and holiday cheer to match.” 

“You are definitely full of something,” Shane agrees, but when Steven looks over at him, he smiles innocently and blows Steven a kiss. 

“It’s settled, then!” Andrew repeats, this time with even more finality. “We’ll pick names a movie night so that’ll give us a few weeks to think of gifts before we go home for break.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Ned sends Andrew an encouraging thumbs-up. 

As the table begins to settle down again, Quinta’s phone pings loudly, and she looks down at it with a soft groan. 

“I have to go meet up with my useless group project partners before Technical Writing,” she tells them forlornly. “I’m gonna head out and distract myself with panicking about what to do if I pull Bergara’s name.” 

Their momentary truce is gone, and Ryan puts on his best mean face. “I’m easy, Brunson. All I need is some beer and a new snapback, or a Star Wars t-shirt.” 

Quinta makes a face like Ryan just announced that he is now a huge Rascal Flatts fan. “As much as your frat boy charm endears me, I do not ever want to be caught dead buying a case of Natty Light and a shirt that says ‘Let Qui-Gons Be Qui-Gons’ on it.” 

Zach laughs at the pun and Eugene makes an even worse face than Quinta’s at the mention of Natty Light. 

“Touché.” 

Quinta moves her face around again to something that’s supposed to be unimpressed but is pretty damn loving, and then she waves at them. “See you later.” 

“See you,” they echo back.

“You know,” Ned starts, after another pause. “I think it would be fun to go see Santa again--” 

“No, Ned.” is the unanimous response back.

A little while later, after their party is officially broken up so everyone else can also get to their respective places, Ryan strolls with Shane towards their shared Basics of Cinematography class and asks him:

“Do you think that this party is going to go up in flames?” 

“Why do you ask that?” Shane replies, grinning in a way that says he doesn't disagree with Ryan’s logic. 

“Because Steven and Andrew seem a little too excited to host, if you know what I mean.” 

Shane laughs loudly because he does, in fact, know what Ryan means. 

“Oh, I definitely think that this Friendsmas is going to be the most chaotic of all of them. Steven and Andrew are half a step away from being married, and those couples are always the most excited to get their party hosting on.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we showed up and they had matching sweaters on when they answered the door. Together.” 

“Matching ugly sweaters,” Shane corrects, and Ryan laughs so hard he almost runs into a biker. Shane has to wrap a big hand around his arm to keep him from doing so, and Ryan’s breath catches a little. 

When Shane doesn’t immediately remove his hand, Ryan thinks of something to keep the conversation going to Shane won’t pick up on his racing heart and googly eyes. 

“And what do you think about the Secret Santa bit?” he asks, pointedly ignoring the fact that he can feel all five of Shane’s fingers through his hoodie. “I think even if we break a few things or Steven makes Quinta start a mosh pit, at least the Secret Santa will be fun.” 

“I agree,” Shane says. “There’s nothing quite like looking for a gift for one of your pals and picking out something that will make their face light up.” 

Ryan’s heart throbs a little, hearing this come out of Shane’s mouth. Not just because they, yet again, share the exact same view on something, but also because the mental image of Shane eagerly watching someone unwrap a gift he got them just to watch their face light up is too much for him to handle at this current moment in time. 

“As long as I don’t get Quinta, we’ll be safe. She might know what to get me now, but I could never, ever pick something out for her. She’d incinerate me on the spot.” 

Shane laughs again, long and loud, and moves his hand away from Ryan’s arm. Ryan thinks that he’s finally letting go, and tries to squash his irrational disappointment, but then Shane throws his own arm across Ryan’s shoulders and pulls him to his side. 

“That may be the case, but I can assure you that I will fight for you life in the case that this occurs. She’ll have to go through me first, dude.” 

Ryan considers melting into the ground, or using it to get on one knee and propose to Shane. Instead, he ducks his head so that Shane won’t see his burning ears and slings his arm around Shane’s side, effectively sealing them together like one four-legged entity. 

“Thanks, big guy. I can always count on you for the back-up.” 

“You know it, baby,” Shane replies, winking, and Ryan wonders if it’s even worth it to participate in Secret Santa when Shane Madej is probably going to kill him before tomorrow. 

~.~.~ 

Movie night happens at the foursome’s townhouse a few days later, on the first Wednesday of December. All thoughts of the impending Friendsmas party and their new ritual are far from Ryan’s brain, and instead, all thoughts of why he’s friends with such idiots is alive and living. 

“For the absolute last time, Ned, we are not watching Ghost Rider.” 

Ned makes an indignant noise from his place on the couch. “You don’t even live here! You don’t get a say!” 

Sara sends him an epic glare from the other side of the kitchen pass, where she’s helping to divide up bags of popcorn and other snacks. “I get a say.” 

Eugene appears in the kitchen pass, as well. “She gets a say.” 

“I, personally, would just like to know what you have against Ghost Rider,” Zach adds, practically bent in half over the back of the sectional. “It’s an iconic American classic.” 

“Nicholas Cage plays the main character.” Sara replies. 

“Exactly! That’s why it’s an iconic American classic!” 

Jen pads out of the kitchen, half of a cookie shoved in her mouth. Around it, she throws herself into the debate. “If you wanted to watch some guy sell his soul to the Devil and then be cursed because of it, we could always just watch season six of Supernatural for the night.”

Ryan makes a pained noise at the suggestion. He’s secretly (or not so secretly, if the right company is present) a pretty big fan of Ghost Rider, and an avid fan of Supernatural, but season six is never the move to make. 

“Jen, I know for a fact that you did not just voluntarily and actively suggest that we watch season six. Seasons one through five are the only acceptable answer.” 

“We know about your thing for young Jared Padalecki, Bergara. This is separate from that.” 

“I can’t help it,” Ryan says, and then because he actually cannot help it, even as he’s screaming loudly inside his brain for his mouth to stop: “He’s just so fucking long and big.” 

There’s a split second where the people in the living room with him just silently stare at the admission. It’s a secret to no one but the man in question that Ryan is pretty in love with Shane Alexander Madej, but besides good-natured teasing, his friends allow him to pine in peace. Ryan is honestly just as shocked as the others right now that he said something so incriminating, so close to the truth about the other long and big fella in their company whose name doesn’t rhyme with Schmeith Schmabersberger. Ned, Zach, Jen, Adam, Curly, and Schmeith are all gaping at him right now, and Ryan wonders for a moment if it would be worth it to throw up a peace sign and flee out of the sliding glass door. 

And then Zach comes to his rescue with a very hasty: “That’s what she said! Wooaahh!” and it breaks the loaded silence. 

Eventually, all of the others in the kitchen finally start to trail out into the living room, carrying drinks, popcorn, candy--the works. Eugene gets heckled into sitting between Zach and Ned, and he loudly complains with a big grin on his face all the while. Steven cuddles up next to Jen, so Andrew cuddles up next to him, and forces Annie to cuddle up next to him. Adam gets pulled into Annie’s side for camaraderie support, and Adam goes with surprisingly little complaint. Quinta squeezes in next to Curly, and Sara squeezes in next to her. That leaves Ryan at the very end of the couch, and just enough space for Shane to wiggle his way in between him and Sara. 

When Shane gets settled, he gives Ryan a big smile, and then gives him a bowl of popcorn. 

“Your corn, my liege.” 

Ryan’s heart damn near melts. He takes the bowl like he’s handling a newborn child. “Thanks, man. You’re the best.” 

“No biggie,” Shane replies, knocking their shoulders together. 

“What movie did we decide on?” Keith asks; he’s the closest to the TV, so he gets up to put the movie in. “Not Ghost Rider, before anyone asks.” 

“Thank fuck,” Sara says, at the same time that Ned says, “Fuck you.” 

There’s a small clamor of everyone yelling out suggestions--”I thought we were watching Jurassic Park tonight.” “No, we were going to watch Kill Bill Vol. 1 you godless heathen.” “Star Wars! Star Wars! Star Wars!” “We should watch Shrek!”-- until Keith sends an exasperated look over to Quinta. 

She blinks back lazily, and then says above all the others: “At dinner a few nights ago, we all agreed we were going to watch the og Avengers movie, remember?” 

They all chorus back with a variation of “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” and Keith goes about loading up The Avengers on the TV. 

Shane turns to Ryan and asks: “Ready to cry over Thor and Loki for the millionth time?” 

Ryan snorts. “You wish, Madej. I’m more concerned about Steve Rogers missing his long lost husband.” 

Curly, around a mouthful of candy, says, “Stucky is the gift that keeps on giving.” 

Something about this phrase triggers something in Andrew, because he stands up with a shout. All eyes fall onto him, many cheeks full of food and many eyebrows raised. 

He starts by singing the beginning rift of ‘Red and Black’ from Les Mis. “‘The time is near! So near, it’s stirring the blood in their veins--!’” 

“Oh, Christ,” Sara moans.

“Hey,” Andrew snips back, hands falling to his hips. “I’m just trying to be festive.” 

“Christmas and Les Mis are not even in the same stratosphere as each other.” 

“Cold and dark all the time,” Andrew points out, shrugging, but moves on. “Anywho, I almost forgot to announce that it is time for us all to decide--” 

“Andrew!” 

“--who our Secret Santa recipients are going to be!” 

“Damn, I forgot I have to get one of you morons something,” Keith says, sitting back down. “You’re all the worst to shop for.” 

That makes Annie choke on her drink. “Sorry that we all have dimensional interests and personalities and all you ever ask for for Christmas is a KFC gift card and anything with BoJack Horseman on it.” 

Keith spreads his hands out in front of him. “Hey. I’m a simple guy.” 

“No, you’re a moron.” Curly tells him. “Just the same as the rest of us.” 

Andrew fishes a small bag out of his backpack and snags a wayward snapback off the rack next to the front door. They watch as he empties the contents of the bag into the snapback, pieces of paper ruffling together, and then as he brings it around the couch to Ned’s waiting form. 

“Zach frequently sweats into this,” Ned says sourly, but obligingly chooses a name out of the hat. 

Ryan studies each person as they choose a name to gauge their reactions. They range from indifference to surprise to outright annoyance and Ryan wonders who he’ll end up choosing and how he’ll feel about it. He’s really gunning for Jen because she’s been moaning and groaning about this sweater she saw online and really wants but doesn’t want to buy herself. He’s also really gunning for not picking Quinta because he genuinely, really, truly would never know what to get her. 

He doesn’t even notice that it’s his turn until Andrew’s looming above him, nutty grin on his face and snapback sliding back and forth under Ryan’s nose. 

“Your turn, Ry Ry.” 

Ryan looks down to find only one piece of paper remaining. “Wow, so much selection to choose from.” 

Andrew waves the snapback again. “No time for your negativity, Scrooge. Your Secret Santa deserves a better attitude.” 

Ryan sticks his tongue out, but takes the slip of paper. He’s loudly yelling Give me Jen, please please please give me Jen as he unfolds it, but he’s too busy begging for her to be truly prepared for what he ends up getting: 

A simple but damning SHANE in Andrew’s scribbly handwriting. 

His head is nothing but a sheet of white for a short, amazed moment, and then it’s a mess of Well this is just absolutely goddamn fabulous and only a small step up from Quinta, fuck you very much Andrew Ilnyckyj and Steven Lim for putting me in this position. 

Ryan sneaks a sideways glance at his best friend and where they are currently inches from each other. Luckily, Shane is already absorbed in a conversation about something completely different from Secret Santa and has not noticed Ryan’s emotional rollercoaster over his selection. Unluckily, Ryan gets a faceful of Shane’s beautiful smile and the crow’s feet and the way his gorgeous amber eyes are 100% sparkling right now, and genuinely thinks about fleeing through the sliding door. 

“I’m starting the movie now!” Keith yells over everyone. “Shut up so we can see Colbie Smulders shoot some motherfuckers!” 

Before settling down, Andrew tells everyone: “No refunds, returns, or exchanges on your Secret Santa picks. And no telling that person before the party or I will ban you from all future events!” 

When Shane turns to him and gives him a sarcastic little eye roll and goofy smile, Ryan thinks one last, heartfelt I’m fucked! before Keith hits play. 

Most unfortunately, the feeling does not go away. The longer the movie plays, the larger Ryan’s panic grows; he’s seen og Avengers more times than he can count, so his brain uses a lot of excess attention to hyperfocus on Shane. 

It focuses on the way they are literally pressed together from head to toe, and the way Ryan can feel Shane’s body vibrating when he laughs at one of Tony Stark’s one-liners. It focuses on the way Shane melts into him the longer the movie plays, on the way Shane will purposely press even closer to Ryan when one of their favorite parts comes up, on the way Shane tightly grips his bent knee when Steve and Tony fight, when Steve tells Tony: “Put on the suit!” so that they can punch it out, and then tells Tony: “Put on the suit!” when they get attacked by Loki. On the way Shane grips his knee when Steve and Tony fight, and then leaves his hand there like it’s not going to drive Ryan up the proverbial wall every second it stays. He almost has to laugh--he spends most of Avengers hollering about Steve and Tony’s sexual tension whenever he and Shane watch it together, but right now all he can think about is his own astronomical feelings for his best friend and the way it makes him want to get violent, too. 

By the time the movie finishes, Shane has his head on Ryan’s shoulder, his hand on Ryan’s knee, and has stolen the rest of his uneaten popcorn. Ryan has never been more in love with him than he is in this moment, and the crushing reality is that, now that he has to get Shane a Secret Santa gift, he’s gotta think of something that maybe hopefully won’t proclaim his embarrassing crush on the poor dude to everyone they know and love. 

He gets a moment’s rest when the movie ends and he trails after Steven, Ned, and Quinta into the kitchen to put their dishes in the sink. Shane stays on the couch to debate about the multi-verse for the millionth time, so Ryan finally gets a chance to breathe and not worry about declaring his undying love for him on accident. 

“So, what do you think?” Steven asks him out of nowhere. 

Ryan squints up at him. “About The Avengers? My favorite line is still ‘Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?’” 

Steven snorts. “No, dummy. About Secret Santa.” 

Ryan doesn’t have to be looking into a mirror to know that as soon as Steven asks the question, his face makes several complicated changes. Steven’s innocent, pleased expression turns amused at once, and Ryan lands his own expression on a scowl. 

“Oh, this is most interesting.” 

“Shut up, Steven. It’ll be fine.” 

Steven makes a clicking noise, but doesn’t say anything else. Quinta glances over at the both of them, and her own face changes when she sees Ryan’s. 

“Is it me?” 

Ryan purses his mouth and says nothing, but even Steven’s quick: “No telling!” isn’t enough to keep her from seeing the truth for what it is. Her expression changes again to match Steven’s. 

“Oh, boy. This is going to be the best Friendsmas yet.” 

“I hate all of you.” Ryan declares, with feeling, and then marches right out of the kitchen. 

He almost marches right into Shane, who curls a warm, lovely arm around Ryan’s shoulders to keep them both from going down. “Woah, little guy. What’s got your angry face up and running?” 

“Steven,” is his initial response, but at Shane’s duh, dude look, he adds: “He still thinks Nat and Bruce are good together.” 

Shane gasps, and then yells over his head: “Steven Lim, the blaspheme!” 

Steven obviously knows what Ryan is trying to pull, but instead of calling him out on it, he does manage to exercise his role as one of Ryan’s closest friends and lies his ass off for him. “Clint is married! How many fucking times are we going to go over this! They are just bffs!” 

They get into it while Ryan is still trapped in Shane’s hold, and Ryan is a glutton for punishment, so he lets himself rest his head against Shane’s shoulder and soak in their close proximity even though he just got two and a half hours’ worth of it. While Shane and Steven scream at each other, and Sara butts in with: “She’s a lesbian, you morons.” Ryan both thinks: What I’d like for Christmas is unlimited access to cuddling with Shane like I am right this goddamn second and: What I’d like for Christmas is Jen to be my Secret Santa pick and a one-way ticket to Timbuktu.  

In the middle of the debate (which now consists of most of the group) Steven manages to catch Ryan’s eye again, and while Shane is talking to Eugene and Curly, sends him a dumb little eyebrow wiggle meant to insinuate one thing and one thing only. He does so with the confidence of someone who has been dating his current boyfriend since high school and is probably going to get married to that same person shortly, who knows nothing of pining and pain and suffering. He does so with the confidence of someone who will honest to fuck never have a chance of ruining anything, because Andrew is going to love Steven madly until the day he dies, and even for an eternity after that. 

Ryan leans heavily towards Timbuktu. 

~.~.~ 

See, the problem with getting Shane as his Secret Santa recipient isn’t that Ryan has no idea what the hell to get him. Ryan and Shane are best friends, have been best friends for years, and Ryan knows him like the back of his hand. He knows Shane better than he knows anyone in his life, with the exception of his little brother. 

The problem is that he knows Shane so well that he wants to buy Shane everything and he wants to buy Shane nothing. He wants to pick the perfect gift for Shane, because he knows and loves him dearly, but he also never finds anything that he thinks will be suitable as a gift from him to Shane. Everything is something he would already automatically buy Shane without a second thought, just because at the time he thought Shane would like it or should be the owner of it. It’s so hard to think of something that’s significant enough to be counted as a curated, thoughtful, Secret Santa-esque gift that he thinks encompasses how much he adores Shane and also how much he thinks Shane deserves for being such a top-shelf human being. 

“That’s gay,” Curly tells him helpfully. They’re out and about at the mall, both of them looking for Secret Santa gifts and things for their families (and, of course, themselves), and Ryan is trying to appropriately explain his dilemma. 

Ryan’s looking down at a sick pair of shoes when Curly says this, and reflexively makes a faux-surprise face that beams back at him in the store window. “Shit, dude, are you serious? Gay? Me?”

“Si,” Curly replies sympathetically, resting a hand on Ryan’s arm. “It’s okay, sugar--we’re here for you.” 

“Obviously not, since you refuse to help me think of something to buy Shane.” 

Curly still does not look away from the large collection of argyle sweaters that he’s currently pawing through. “You said it yourself, Ryan. Only you know him well enough to buy him something worthy of his angelic personality.” 

“That’s definitely not how I phrased it.” 

“You might as well have.” Curly dismisses. “You might as well have gotten up next to that mannequin and told everyone in the store: ‘I’m deeply and cosmically in love with my best friend and am so gay for him that I can’t think of anything suitable to get him for Christmas! Nothing would come close to the pedestal I have so adoringly placed him on! Think Helen of Troy, but instead, Shane of Illinois.’” 

Ryan takes a long moment to press a hand to his eyes. “I don’t think that even counts as a pun. That just went straight to criminal.” 

Curly laughs and says nothing in response, moving onto a large, bursting rack of colorful trousers. Ryan trails after him, both trying not to think about Shane wearing the pair of bright purple pants Curly is handling and about Shane modelling like an ancient Greek statue, miles of naked, pale skin on display. 

After a lengthy silence of Ryan having a meltdown and Curly clearly enjoying it, he tries again. “I just need to think of something to give him that encompasses all my feelings, you know? I want him to know that I care, and that I know him well enough to get him the best gift of his life, but I also think I’m at the point in my life where I’d like my gift to convey some slight homoerotic undertones that Shane will be able to overlook if he’s not down to receive them.” 

Curly makes a noise like he’s trying to squash down another round of laughter. “Oh, is that all?” 

Ryan sighs deeply. “Yeah, that’s all. Seems easy, right?” 

His friend says nothing for a long beat, content with letting Ryan sweat it out while he looks between a pair of mustard pants and a pair of emerald. But then, out of nowhere, Curly gasps and turns to face Ryan. 

“I just thought of the perfect gift!” Curly declares, face entirely O-shaped. “It will be subtle and sweet and convey just enough homoerotic undertones to please everyone involved!” 

Ryan reaches out and grabs Curly by both shoulders. “Curly, you are my saving grace. Please lay your genius idea on me.”

Curly reaches up and grabs Ryan’s shoulders as well, grinning widely, and tells him without a single shred of shame: “You should buy him an engagement ring!” 

“I’m gonna go beat my head against the display window for the rest of our trip in here.” 

“Good,” Curly calls after Ryan’s retreating back. “Maybe you’ll actually pull your head out of your ass and think of something good then.” 

Ryan flips him off without turning around again. Curly doesn’t have a single goddamn clue what it’s like to be so stressed about buying his Secret Santa something perfect. He got Steven--no room for conveying any hidden feelings there, and no stress about what to pick, period, since Steven will devote his life to anyone who buys him anything relating to food. 

“Maybe there’s hope still.” Ryan tells himself. 

He takes another look around the store; it’s a place that Shane would shop at and buy lots of things from, but nothing speaks to Ryan or feels satisfactory in the Buy Your Best Friend/Love Of Your Life An Appropriately Emotional Christmas Present department. He’s staring long and hard at a button-up shirt that has polar bears wearing sunglasses on it when he catches movement from out of the corner of his eye. The movement leads him to a jewelry kiosk salesman trying his absolute darndest to get this woman to buy one of his necklaces, and his gaze lands and sticks on the display full of diamond rings. He traitorous brain plays back Curly’s words, and then supplies a very brilliant image of Shane wearing a diamond ring that Ryan gave to him, because he’s going to marry Ryan and become Ryan’s husband. 

He sighs deeply again. “Never mind. Hope is a sham.” 

~.~.~

A few days after the mall fiasco, Ryan comes home to Shane singing loudly to Cage The Elephant and playing a chaotic game of Skyrim, and decides to push his luck a little. 

“Hey dude,” he calls over “Take It Or Leave It” before flopping face-first onto their couch. He’ll never understand how Shane can stand to be folded up so intricately on their loveseat, but he does it all the time when he plays video games, knees almost to his armpits and the rest of his body hidden in a cloak of blankets. “I see you had a productive afternoon.” 

“You know it!” Shane yells back, and then sings the rest of the chorus before finally turning it down. “Nothing but hard work and dedication under this roof today, Mr. Bergara.” 

Immediately after he says this, a character runs their sword through Shane’s character’s ribs, and Shane curses, frantically pressing buttons on his controller. Despite his best laid plans, his character dies, and Shane groans loudly before turning to look at Ryan while the level resets. 

“I see you also had a productive afternoon.” 

Ryan spent approximately 1:14 of the 1:15 minutes his last class of the day is brainstorming what to get Shane for Secret Santa and coming up empty-handed once again, but he’s not about to admit the majority of that out loud. Instead, he goes with: “Professor Michaels continues to sweep me off my feet with lilting prose about just how exciting rock formations in Iceland can get. You should have been there.” 

“Talk dirty to me.” 

“The oldest rock formation that you can see in Iceland today that’s above sea level is 16 million years old.” 

“Oh, Ryan, yes!” 

He laughs deeply, the mind-numbing boringness of Geology sliding off his back. The relief of being in Shane’s calming presence soothes him enough to continue with: “I also have no idea what to get my Secret Santa for Friendsmas.” 

Shane winces empathetically. “Right there with you, buddy.” 

Innocently (hah), Ryan asks him, “Who’d you get saddled with?” 

Even though he could find Shane in a crowded, pitch-black room while blindfolded and with death rock blaring in his ears, he cannot, for the life of him, crack Shane’s current poker face. He’s smiling mischievously, but there’s not enough edge to his cheeky grin or the crinkle of his eyes to tip Ryan off to just who his Secret Santa recipient is. 

“A gentleman never tells, Ry.” 

“Shaaaaaaaane,” Ryan whines, unashamedly petulant. “That’s not fair.” 

Shane laughs, turning back to his game. “Life’s not fair. And besides, it would ruin the suspense. I’m telling no one about my Secret Santa gift.” 

Ryan huffs, but doesn’t press him for more details. “Fine. Maybe I was going to tell you who my Secret Santa is, but I guess I won’t anymore.” 

“Good,” Shane says, hitting some character on screen with an axe. “Then I won’t feel guilty about accidentally ruining the surprise for them.” 

Ryan watches his character run around town and hit random people with his axe, trying to think of how to approach the topic of what Shane wants for Christmas without approaching the topic of what Shane wants for Christmas. He’s hoping that Shane will be too busy trying to beat this level for the millionth time and rocking out to Melophobia for the millionth time that he won’t think too hard about why Ryan is asking him about Secret Santa. 

“I tried to think of something to get them all fucking day,” Ryan starts again, carefully gauging Shane’s reaction. “And I just can’t. I don’t want to half-ass it, you know?” 

“Definitely,” Shane replies, a little distracted. Bingo. “Everyone in our group deserves nothing but the best. Especially Curly.” 

“Especially Curly.” Ryan echoes, and then says in his own head: especially you. “Man, it’s so hard. I have no idea where to start.” 

“Same. I’ve been putting more time and energy into thinking of a gift for my Secret Santa than I think I’ve ever put into one before.” 

Ryan feels a stupid and completely irrational flare of jealousy at this admission. He knows that Shane really does adore all of their friends, just the same as him, and he honestly does not have any sort of claim over Shane, but he can’t fucking help it.The thought of one of the others getting so much of Shane’s thoughtfulness and dedication makes him go hot with envy. He’s glad that Shane is extremely absorbed in Skyrim or else he’d definitely be calling Ryan out on his grouchiness. 

He takes a moment to get control of himself, and then asks, as off-handedly as possible: “I mean, what would you want someone to get you?” 

Shane doesn’t answer right away, and Ryan fears the worst immediately: that he just gave himself away, that Shane’s big college brain is working overtime to put all the pieces together, that Shane has actually known this entire time. But then Shane swears loudly again and says, “Aha, I finally got you, you fucking piece of shit!” and Ryan relaxes for the most part when it becomes clear that his silence was due to concentration and not suspicion. 

Eventually, Shane replies with, “I would be happy with literally anything, man. Socks, a jar of pickles, even a moldy VCR copy of Weird Science someone found at the rock bottom of a Goodwill would do it for me.” 

Well, there goes that brilliant plan. 

“You are a king amongst men,” Ryan says to him, instead of: “You are the least helpful idiot best friend I could ask for.” because he feels like it wouldn’t go over too well. 

“Hey, what can I say.” Shane barely dodges another painful death on screen, and sends Ryan a triumphant grin for his troubles. “Want not, waste not.” 

“I wish I knew what my Secret Santa wanted so I didn’t have to waste another minute trying to helplessly hope and pray.” 

Shane laughs, and even though he is the basis of Ryan’s suffering, the metaphorical thorn in his side, Ryan can’t help but laugh, too. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, dude. You always pick the greatest gifts out. I’m sure this time will be no different.” Shane looks away from the game long enough to send Ryan another winning smile. “You always get me the greatest things, at least.” 

Any hope Ryan had left of getting an idea from Shane and not panicking about said idea is slammed inside of a jail cell at these words. Now Ryan’s never going to know if Shane will genuinely like whatever Ryan chooses for him, or if he’ll remember this conversation two weeks from now and play off any disappointment he feels to save face in front of his best friend. 

With an aggrieved moan, Ryan pushes himself back to his feet and shuffles towards their tiny kitchen. “I’m buying a fuckton of Chinese food to drown my sorrows in. Want anything?” 

“I’ll take a Seasonal Depression round of General Tso if it’s not too much trouble.” 

“You got it.” 

~.~.~  

“Why did we convince ourselves that taking Art History would be a good idea?” 

Ryan honestly feels like his eyeballs are going to liquify and slide out of his head at this point. He’s been studying for his impending Art History final with Jen for the better part of an afternoon, and both of them are experiencing just how taxing and mind-numbing it is to study Baroque period paintings. 

Jen answers his very rhetorical question with a long, pained groan. “Because our dumbasses thought it would be easier than taking a drawing class to fulfill our Arts credit. If I never have to look at a horrifyingly real painting of crucified Jesus Christ again, it’ll be too soon.” 

“Afuckingmen,” Ryan says, despite the fact that it feels wrong to do so after spending multiple hours looking at horrifyingly real paintings of crucified Jesus Christ. 

They lie together in silence for a good long while, trying to simultaneously retain all of the information they just went over and block it from invading every corner of their brains. Jen is curled up in the corner of her bed, kneading her knuckles against her temples; Ryan finds that his calling towards comfort is to tip sideways until his head is placed firmly in her lap. Jen allows it, and even goes as far as to pat the top of his wrecked hair as he gets comfortable. 

“I would just like to know the answers to everything right now.” Ryan says flatly. “Who painted Death of the Virgin.” 

“Caravaggio.” 

“And The Entombment of Christ.” 

“Caravaggio again.” 

Ryan reaches up and uses his fingers to pinch Jen’s lips together. “Shhh. Do not speak his name.” Jen pinches one of his nipples in retaliation, and Ryan flails away, laughing. “Okay, okay, sorry.”

“Damn right you are.” Jen hisses, trying not to laugh too. She gives in almost immediately, though, and wraps both arms around Ryan in a big bear hug. “Caravaggio is going to make me cry, Ryan.” 

“Me too,” Ryan whines, hugging her back. “I don’t know who Caravaggio even is or what he looked like or what he did except paint many, many horrifying real pictures of crucified Jesus Christ and his buddies.” 

Jen makes a wailing noise. “Aren’t we supposed to know some big facts about Remembrall too?” 

“Do you mean Rembrant?” 

Jen wails again. “Stop. Every name is like a knife through my heart.” 

Ryan makes an equally loud noise of displeasure and burrows into Jen’s arms, trying to fight the oncoming headache he feels blooming behind his eyes. He’s so sick of looking at Baroque period paintings and Jesus Christ and the dismal front cover of their Art History textbook. Like, what kind of sick individual makes people learn about Art History out of an actual textbook? And for the Baroque period? 

“I want to know how to pass this fucking test.” Ryan whispers, pained. “I want to know what our test is going to look like.” And, because Ryan is a glutton for punishment, and because he’s still panicking about it, he finishes with: “And most of all, I would love to know what the fuck to get Shane for Secret Santa.” 

“You are obsessed with Secret Santa, Ryan.” Jen tells him, audibly exasperated beyond belief. “One painful event at a time. We’re complaining about Art History right now. We can complain about Secret Santa when I can feel my hippocampus again.” 

“Okay.” Ryan agrees, and pushes Secret Santa away to keep crying over Art History. 

They sit together for another long, depressed while, until Jen heaves a sigh and tells him: 

“Ryan, it’s not that hard. You know Shane more than anyone else in the group. You go shopping together frequently. Just go ‘shopping’ with him this weekend and see what catches his eye and then buy it. Boom, done.” 

Ryan pulls his face out of Jen’s stomach to look up at her. She looks exhausted, but amused, and Ryan almost wants to kiss her on the mouth. 

“You are the love of my life,” he declares. 

Jen laughs again and pushes a hand through his messy hair. “Not quite, but sure, buddy. I love you, too.” 

He can’t believe that the possible solution to his problem could be so fucking simple. Spend an entire day with Shane? And hype up him getting excited over things they find while shopping together? Ryan doesn’t know how he made it through half of his life with such an obvious lack of critical thinking skills. 

“I love you more than words can say.” Ryan whispers, clinging to her even tighter. “You just solved every problem I’ve ever had.” 

Jen snorts. “What about your problem of not knowing who Caravaggio is?” 

“...Details, details.”

Another sigh. “We should probably go over him again, Ryan. Like, now, before we lose all motivation.” 

“Already there.” Ryan sighs back, but rolls away from her so that they can go back to their textbook. “My soul is weeping. Maybe Caravaggio should have made a painting to represent what looking at his paintings would do to the youth, and, more specifically, to me.” 

“He did,” Jen tells him, completely serious. “It’s called Death of the Virgin.” 

“Hey, asshole--” 

They do not get a lot more studying done, but Ryan finds himself feeling relaxed for the first time in many, many days. He’s definitely got this Secret Santa thing in the bag. 

Art History, though? Not so much. 

~.~.~  

Possibly, as a counteractive measure against all of Ryan’s suffering over getting Shane a Secret Santa gift, his scheme to get Shane to go out with him for the day goes exceptionally smoothly. It takes him little to no convincing to get Shane to go to breakfast with him, and from there, to their little strip of stores downtown. 

It starts with this: Ryan bursting into Shane’s room early on Saturday morning, already dressed to go out on the town. He finds Shane awake, hair an absolute fucking disaster, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and the man himself squinting at his phone. 

“Hey, want to go to breakfast?” 

“I just bought some cereal yesterday.” 

“I didn’t hear a no.” 

“No you didn’t. Let me get dressed.” 

It continues with this: Ryan and Shane cramming themselves into a two-person booth in the corner of their favorite breakfast place, with a million strangers crammed into the same space around them, and Shane’s attention on Ryan and Ryan alone. They both order their own food, and somehow, just like every other time, end up splitting everything and brushing their hands up against each other when they reach for a bite from the other person’s plate. 

And it shifts into this: Ryan trailing along the downtown strip with Shane at his side, their shoulders pushing together when the foot traffic gets a little too intense, and Shane’s excitement easily mingling with Ryan’s as they slip into each of their favorite stores. 

They stop at their favorite local brewery, and let the shop owner talk them into trying his new coffee, and then a sample of his new beer, even though it’s still early in the morning. From there, they head next door to Maycie’s shop, a bath and body products store called Luscious. She greets them both with a huge hug and shows them her new, yet-to-be-revealed Star Wars collection. Ryan leaves the store with a Finn scented bath bomb, and Shane leaves with Poe’s, to exactly no one’s surprise. After that, they duck into a sweets shop owned by a super cute old lady, and then the huge year-round Halloween costume store called Shrieko’s where their friend Tania works, for one reason or another. 

Eventually, after they’ve visited all of their regular haunts, Shane takes them into their favorite shop on the strip: a new and used bookstore called Between the Lines. 

(“It’s funny,” Shane had said to him the first time they visited. “Because it’s clearly a reference to Between the Lions, which was already a play on words. I think I’m in love.” 

“Good God, big guy.” A pause. “You know what, me too.”) 

“Finally, the one we’ve been waiting for!” Shane declares, and then pushes the door open like a kid rocketing into a toy store. 

A wave of scents hits them, and Ryan releases a soft noise at the familiar notes of book pages and espresso from the café at the back of the store. Between the two of them, they’ve easily spent enough time in this store to accumulate to a week straight of nothing but perusing the shelves and buying incredible cups of coffee. Ryan now has more books to read than he knows what to do with, but he always finds himself back in Between the Lines no matter how many unread books he acquires. 

“I’m gonna head for the new releases,” he tells Shane, at the same time that Shane tells him, “I’m gonna head for the new used arrivals.” 

They grin wildly at each other, and then Shane bounces back towards his preferred section of the store. Ryan gives it a few seconds, to make sure that Shane thinks he’s going where he said he was going to go, and then he follows after. Luckily, Shane has zero clue that Ryan has followed after him, and starts to pick through the new used arrivals with reckless abandon, oohing and ahhing over titles that catch his interest. 

Spying on Shane gets Ryan a little closer to figuring out what he should get him for Secret Santa. On one hand, it helps to paint a clearer picture of what types of books Shane likes to read the most, and books that he’d probably like to read that he hasn’t picked out yet. On the other, all of the used books here are pretty fuckin’ cheap and Shane has no qualms against picking out a huge stack of them every time they come, so Ryan has little to pick up after him. 

By the time Shane is done in the used section, he has about ten books bundled into his arms, and Ryan has two that Shane picked up and then put back down. His best friend never notices that he’s trailing along behind him, but Ryan feels like he can’t count it as a success. 

They ‘meet up’ again when Ryan pretends to make his grand entrance into the general new fiction area, and he puts on his best surprised but not surprised grin. 

“Wow, I see you’re really exercising self control today.” 

“I know,” Shane replies proudly. “I only picked out ten new books instead of twenty.” 

“Wooo!” Ryan cheers, like he doesn’t want to lay on the floor and cry or shake Shane by the arms and plead for him to tell Ryan what he wants for Secret Santa. “Progress is being made!” 

They check out the new books together, chatting about recommendations they’ve both been given and what books have become really popular lately, and Ryan almost feels short of breath, trying to keep his obvious hawk-eyeing on the downlow while also remaining super invested in their conversation. Shane picks up and puts down a large handful of books, and Ryan debates whether or not picking the books up after him and storing them in one corner of the store would be too obvious or result in their final blacklisting. 

He doesn’t get the basis of the idea until they head towards the movies section together. There’s a whole wall of books right next to it, full to the brim with different tomes on how specific movies are made, like Lord of the Rings and Inception , the history of filmmaking, even novelized versions of films, like the new Star Trek reboots. Amongst all the books about the Harry Potter movies and biographies about Steven Speilberg and Alfred Hitchcock, Ryan comes across a small but gorgeous collection of A24 screenplay books. 

Between the Lines is a very generous and incredible shop, and they often hold giveaways for their frequent buyers. A year ago, they’d held a giveaway for the A24 screenplay book version of Ex Machina, and Ryan had been the customer lucky enough to win it. It’s currently sitting on the very forefront of his middle bookshelf, one of his most proud and prized possessions. 

He knows he should be paying attention to Shane and his interests, but he can’t help and stop to admire the A24 books. 

“Dude, I fucking love these books,” Ryan says reverently. He pulls out a copy of Eighth Grade, handling it like it’s an entire book made of glass. “I’d sell all my organs for a complete collection.” 

Shane makes an appreciative noise, and then reaches for one on the shelf above Ryan’s head. “Hey, lookie here. I think this one is more your speed.” 

Ryan looks up from Eighth Grade to see Shane handling one of the newest A24 releases: a beautiful, baby blue copy of Moonlight with young Chiron standing in front of the ocean on the cover. He feels his eyes go as round as the goddamn actual moon and he barely spares a glance at Eighth Grade when he shoves it back onto the shelf and takes Moonlight out of Shane’s hands. 

“Holy shit.” Ryan breathes. “Ho-ly shit. I can’t believe I didn’t know that they released this. Holy shit, Shane.” 

Shane laughs openly at his amazement. “That’s what I thought.” 

Ryan finally tears his gaze away from the book and looks up, up, up at Shane. “I’m actually going to cry, I think.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“This is the greatest book known to man, about the greatest film known to man. I think my soul left my body and is hanging out on another plane of existence right now.” 

Shane nods, and then hits Ryan with the final blow: “You know that the book is going to have pictures from the film inside, right? There are pictures of actual Mahershala Ali on the inside of that.” 

Ryan’s eye twitches. “Leave me to die, Shane Madej.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” 

Ryan does actually stay behind to look through (cry over) and marvel over how gorgeous the Moonlight book is while Shane rifles through the used movies, and when he reaches the danger point of actually wanting to shit $60 for it, he puts it back and moves on. Shane cheekily holds up a copy of Moonlight when he finds one, and Ryan, with as solemnity as he can muster, tells him: “Someday, I’m going to own that beautiful book, and you won’t be allowed to touch it as retribution for taunting me about it.” 

Once they pick over the movies, and then the vinyl on the other side of the movies, Shane asks if he wants to head out. 

“My arms are actually going to fall off. I cannot afford to pick up another fucking book, Ryan.” 

Ryan’s heart sinks at the statement, because he still has no goddamn clue what to buy Shane for Secret Santa, but he swallows the disappointment and nods. 

“Yeah, I’m ready to go. Keep all your limbs attached, Slendy.” 

They snake their way back to the front, Ryan pointedly not looking over at the A24 books and Shane pointedly laughing at him for it. The pass the movies, the movie books, the space and general science books, the used books, and almost make it all the way up to the registers when Shane gasps loudly and stops without warning. 

Ryan turns to see what the fuss is about, and looks right into the golden, glimmering light of his saving grace. 

For the pain and pleasure of everyone who enters the store, the fantasy/sci-fi books are kept right next to the register, a decision that has cost Ryan an extra $20 more than once. Ryan is already aware that Shane is a fantasy/sci-fi fanatic, just like himself, but isn’t sure which book exactly has made him react so powerfully. 

When he cranes his head around Shane’s long, gangly body, and sees what book’s got him all hot and bothered, he honestly gets it. Ryan is a fan of the Kingkiller Chronicles just like every other high fantasy geek, but Shane absolutely fucking adores the series above almost all other high fantasy books. Just like Ryan won Ex Machina a while ago, Shane was once the lucky winner of a giveaway for this gorgeous, jaw-dropping, very, very expensive collector’s edition of The Name of the Wind. And just like Ryan displays his copy of Ex Machina like it’s the best book he owns (because it is), Shane displays his collector’s edition of The Name of the Wind like it’s the fucking Holy Grail. 

Next to a few copies of the collector’s edition of The Name of the Wind is a similarly gorgeous, jaw-dropping, very, very expensive collector’s edition of The Wise Man’s Fear. Ryan doesn’t have to have seen his face when Shane showed him the Moonlight screenplay book to guess that it’s a lot how Shane looks right now, looking down at this copy of The Wise Man’s Fear. 

“I--” Shane has to stop and start a few times to get the words out. He has all of his purchases bundled up in one noodly arm so that the other one is free to reach out and gently caress The Wise Man’s Fear. “I had no idea they came out with Wise Man’s Fear. It’s fucking beautiful.” 

Ryan realizes two things at once: 1) this is what he’s going to get Shane for Secret Santa, and 2) he’s no stranger to trading and bargaining for books or films or anything of the sort in Between the Lines, so he is going to trade his copy of Ex Machina to get Shane a copy of The Wise Man’s Fear. 

They’re practically the same price, and he knows that Bernie, the shop owner, usually only gives about half a book’s worth in store credit when they’re traded in, but for Ryan, he’ll let him trade one for the other. His heart hurts a little, thinking about getting rid of his prized copy of Ex Machina, but he reasons that it didn’t cost him anything, and he can always trade in a bunch of books he doesn’t like or want to read anymore and get another copy once Christmas is over. But this is a time-sensitive gift--Friendsmas is less than a week away, and Ryan will only have time on Wednesday before movie night to drive back over here and swap the books out. He can worry about getting Ex Machina back after that. 

Shane’s long, sad breath breaks him out of his trance, and Ryan glances up at him. He can tell that Shane wants to put all his other books back to get this one, wants it so badly that his grip is white-knuckled around the spine of Wise Man’s Fear, but he can also tell that Shane is currently not in the place to fork over $55 for one book. All of the books in his arms together are only worth about $20, and while Shane is a dreamer, he’s moreso a realist. 

“C’mon,” Ryan says gently, pulling him away. “You know you’re just going to torture yourself all day if we don’t leave now.” 

“How did you do it?” Shane asks, letting Ryan steer him back towards the registers. “How did you leave Moonlight behind?” 

“With great strength,” Ryan admits solemnly. “You’ve got a great haul of books. It’ll still be there for you later.” 

Shane sighs, but gets in line and doesn’t look back towards the fantasy books. “You’re right, you’re right. But I don’t have to be happy about it.” 

Oh, but you bet your sweet ass that I do. 

Shane checks out first, and Bernie makes a point to comment on Shane’s suddenly long face. 

“You look like someone just told you that J. K. Rowling is a terrible person even though she created the greatest fictional universe our world has ever known. Oh, wait.” 

Shane laughs good-naturedly at Bernie’s joke, the rainclouds in his expression disappearing at once. “Sorry, Bernie. Your shop’s incredible, as always. I just really want that new copy of The Wise Man’s Fear, but alas, I’m still a poor college kid with presents to buy for everyone else.” 

Bernie nods understandingly while ringing up all of Shane’s books. “Well, it is Christmastime, pal. I’m sure that you’ll get some cash from Grannie to come back and get it.” 

He glances over at Ryan while Shane is digging through his backpack to find his wallet, and Ryan winks at Bernie, grinning cheesily. Bernie grins back, but looks innocent enough when Shane finally finds it and turns back to him. 

“Or maybe one of your loving, brilliant friends will buy it for you.” 

“Yeah, right, they’re just as broke as me.” Shane snorts, handing over his debit card. “If any of my friends bought me that book, I’d marry them on the spot.” 

Ryan nearly swallows his tongue when Shane says this, and by the way Bernie has to visibly hold back delighted laughter, he’s not being very subtle about it. Shane doesn’t seem to notice, is too busy chattering on about the books he is buying and how excited he is to read them, and Ryan is honest to fucking fuck ready for Friendsmas to be over so he can stop having breakdowns in public spaces. 

When Shane is done checking out, he tells Ryan: “I’ll go get us some coffee, meet me back there when you’re done.” and then slips away again. He stops in front of the copy of The Wise Man’s Fear for a another long, agonized second, but forces himself to keep moving, fingers trailing over the glossy cover. 

“Bernie--” 

“I already know, kid.” Bernie says, chortling happily. “I’ll save you a copy.” 

“Thanks, Bernie, you’re the best.” 

Bernie rings him up and while Ryan is signing his receipt, shakes his head. “You’ve got it bad, Ryan.” 

Ryan finishes signing and looks up at Bernie, letting the exhaustion and ever-persisting, deep, endless love he has for Shane Madej rise onto the surface of his face. “Don’t I know it, man.” 

“You’re buying him a $55 book. That’s real love right there, kiddo.” 

“I’d buy him this whole damn store if I could.” 

Bernie shakes his head again, but his grin is fond and a little awed. “You’re sweet. He’s lucky to have you.” 

“Funny.” Ryan says quietly, looking back towards where Shane is waiting for their coffee orders and flipping through one of his new books. He looks distressingly beautiful in his big, patterned sweater and dark chinos, with a soft smile on his face and the sunlight streaming in turning his skin and hair soft shades of gold. “I was going to say the opposite.” 

“Well, trust me when I say this,” Bernie tells him, handing Ryan his bag. “If you get him that book, that kid is actually going to marry you on the spot. I swear on my life.” 

“Don’t get my hopes up, Bernie.” 

“Kind of hard not to when you’re getting mine up, kid.” He gives Ryan one more wicked grin and a small nudge with his elbow, and then lets him go. “Alright, I’m done teasing. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Bergara.”

“You definitely will.” Ryan promises, and then heads over to Shane, trying to force down his big, dumb grin. 

Shane looks up when Ryan sidles up to the counter, cute smile still in place. Ryan wonders if it would be preemptive to propose to Shane at this very moment instead of waiting until Friendsmas, where it’s alleged that Shane will propose to him. 

Instead of doing anything of the sort, Ryan flicks the cover of the book Shane is already starting to read: Stiff by Mary Roach, a supposed recount of some woman’s time studying human cadavers and their various purposes. 

“Good find?”

“The best,” Shane agrees. “I think I can live without that copy of Wise Man’s Fear for now. This one’s pretty damn good already.” 

Ryan bites the inside of his cheek to keep from ruining the surprise. Out loud he says: “It looks cool. I want to read it when you’re done.” and on the inside, he thinks: I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he unwraps my Secret Santa gift. Maybe I’ll finally earn myself a goddamn kiss.

“Sure thing, Ry,” Shane says, and then clinks their paper cups together. “Nothing says bonding like gushing over a book about human cadavers together.” 

“Exactly,” Ryan laughs back, and when Shane gives him one of those big, crooked grins, complete with crinkled eyes and all of his teeth proudly on display, Ryan swoons like a fair maiden. “What more could you want?” 

~.~.~  

As planned, while Shane is still in class and completely unaware of his whereabouts, Ryan drives back to Between the Lines. He puts Ex Machina in a tote bag to keep it safe--and to keep from having to look at it and remember that he’s about to lose one of his most prized possessions. It sends a painful twinge through his chest every time he thinks about it, but he knows that the look of surprised joy Shane will send him upon unwrapping his Secret Santa gift is more than enough to soothe the pain. 

Bernie looks up when Ryan enters the store, usual greeting on the top of his tongue, but his polite face melts into one of amusement when he sees who it is. 

“Ah, you’re here for the book, aren’t ya?” 

“You know it, Bernie.” Ryan agrees. 

He walks right up the register, and when Bernie brings out his saved copy of The Wise Man’s Fear, Ryan pulls out his beloved copy of Ex Machina and sets it down next to Shane’s book. 

Bernie does a comical double-take when he sees the book. “Is that--” 

“Yeah,” Ryan says, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice. “But it’s okay. It’s for the greater good.” 

Bernie gives him a wide-eyed look, obviously not buying it. 

“C’mon, Bern--I really appreciate and treasure Ex Machina and the fact that I won it from you, but now it has a higher purpose than being the star of my shelf. I need it to proclaim my undying love.” 

“This movie has Oscar Isaac in it,” Bernie says slowly, like it will be enough to convince Ryan to keep the book (it nearly is). 

“I’m more in love with Shane than Oscar Isaac.” 

“I can’t say the same,” Bernie admits, but then carefully picks up Ex Machina and examines it. Ryan keeps his eyes firmly on The Wise Man’s Fear and doesn’t let the filmmaker in him tear up at the sight of his prized book being pawned off. “Are you looking for an even trade?” 

“If that’s on the table, then I would be most grateful.” 

Bernie gives him yet another appraising look, bushy eyebrows furrowed and mouth pursed. But after a long, long moment, he just nods and punches something into his register. A receipt prints out shortly afterwards, and Bernie rips it off and sticks it into the cover of The Wise Man’s Fear for Ryan. 

“You’re all set, son.” Bernie tells him, handing over the book. “Go get your boy.” 

“Thanks, Bernie. I’m gonna try.” 

Ryan takes the book and cradles it to his chest protectively; Bernie’s already stuck Ex Machina underneath the counter, and he’s infinitely grateful that the book is finally out of sight so it can be out of mind. 

Bernie gives him a final look: this one is unmistakably humored. “Trust me, Ryan--you got nothing to worry about.” 

At that, Ryan beams. “Keep her safe for me, okay, Bernie?” 

“You betcha, kid.” 

Ryan gives him another grin and a small wave on his way out of the store. Now that the deal is done, Ryan is more excited than sad about the loss of his favorite book and the prospect of how Shane will react upon unwrapping The Wise Man’s Fear. He can’t wait to see both books displayed side-by-side on Shane’s bookshelf, and he can’t wait to see the look on Shane’s face when he sees that he is now the proud owner of a matching set. 

“Thank you, Ex Machina,” Ryan whispers once he’s back in the car. He takes Shane’s book out of his tote bag and turns it this way and that, marvelling at the gorgeous cover art and deckled edges. Maybe it hurt just a little, and maybe Ryan wants to run right into Between the Lines and take his book back, but the primary thought on his mind is that Shane deserves to get a great gift for Secret Santa, and this definitely fits that description. “And thank you Patrick Rothfuss.” 

~.~.~

“You are ridiculous.” 

Ryan ignores these words of encouragement from the one and only Steven Lim and continues to painstakingly wrap Shane’s gift. “I want to get it right.” 

“Ryan.” Steven doesn’t say anything else until Ryan finally gives in and looks up at him. When he has Ryan’s full attention, he reaches out, puts his hands on his shoulders, and says, very slowly and with complete certainty: “It’s going to be just fine.” 

Ryan rolls his eyes. “I don’t want it to be ‘just fine’ Steven. I want it to be perfect. Shane is gonna shit bricks when he sees what I got him, and I want it to be the single most pleasurable unwrapping experience that he’s ever had.” 

“Wow--there’s a lot to unpack in that sentence, but I’m going to stick with the SFW stuff, and you can keep the rest to yourself.” 

“Steven.” 

“Right, right. Anyways, what I was saying was that Shane is already head over heels in love with you, and this is honestly just going to seal the deal. You don’t need to add all the bells and whistles, dude. He’s going to love it.” 

“It’s not just about adding the bells and whistles,” he confesses. “It’s… Shane’s my best friend. He means the whole world to me, you know? And I know you guys all joke about him being in love with me too, but regardless of whether or not that’s true, this is my way of showing him that I love him. Even if he only ever sees it as platonic love, I’m going to go the extra mile to give him a ridiculously, perfectly wrapped gift because it’s what he deserves.” 

Steven’s face does a funny little wiggle before melting and turning soft. He grins down at Ryan, and then cooes. “Aww, buddy. That’s really sweet. You’re really sweet.” 

“Shut up,” Ryan grouches, but he grins, too. “Anyway, I get the disgusting lovebug from you and Andrew, so you only have yourself to blame.” 

“That’s the greatest news I’ve ever received!” Steven proclaims. “But seriously, please stop folding and refolding that poor wrapping paper. And adding bows. Two is already too many.” 

Ryan wants to fight him, wants to say the magic words that will make Steven understand just how dire this situation is, but all at once that fight leaves his body. He sighs deeply and slumps into Steven’s hold. 

“I just want it to be perfect.” Ryan confesses quietly. “I want him to know how much time and effort I put into his gift, and not just because I picked him in Secret Santa and he’d be getting it in front of all of our friends.” 

“Ryan,” Steven says, just as quietly. “You’re an idiot if you can’t see that Shane already loves you so, so much, romantically or not. He adores you. And he’s going to adore your gift no matter how you wrap, present, or show it off. I promise you, from the bottom of my heart.” 

“That’s why it should be perfect. Because he’s perfect and he deserves as much.” 

Now it’s Steven’s turn to roll his eyes, but his smile stays put as he does so. “He doesn’t want perfect, Ryan. He wants you.” 

That shuts Ryan up. He stares at Steven (arguably the person he trusts the most and is closest to, after Shane) and searches his face for any sign of dishonesty. All he sees is amusement and sincerity, and he finally feels himself relax for the first time in days, thinking about giving Shane such an intimate gift. 

“Okay,” Ryan says, and then takes another deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. I need to calm down. He’s going to like it.” 

“Like it? He’s going to love it, dude!” 

Ryan smiles. “Think so?” 

“Bro, I know so.” Steven gives his arms another loving squeeze. “Now hurry up and finish wrapping that shit. I want to get to the dining hall before those cretin freshman take all of the mozzarella sticks again.” 

“You’re insatiable. Fine, I’ll finish wrapping it. Just give me a second.” He turns to do so, and then stops. “Hey, Steven?” 

Steven tilts his head. “What’s up, buddy?” 

Ryan pauses, and then he grins. “Thanks for talking me through it.” 

Steven grins back. “I know how you get, Ryan. I’ll always be here to talk you through it, okay? But don’t ask me to talk you through it like Shane does, because I’m a taken man and I’d hate to have to let you down easy.” 

“I stand corrected. You’re not insatiable, you’re unbelievable.” 

“I’m all the above. Now, can we please get this show on the road? More mozzies, less chatties.” 

Ryan snorts and gives him a sarcastic: “Aye aye, captain.” in response, but his smile grows, and his nerves remain calmed. When he finishes wrapping Shane’s gift, he still doesn’t think it looks perfect enough to give it to him, but he thinks it looks cute, and thoughtful, and Steven’s words ring clear in his mind: he doesn’t want perfect, he just wants you. 

~.~.~ 

Ryan and Shane are nearly the last ones to arrive at Friendsmas. 

Andrew is the one who answers the door when they knock. He’s wearing an endearingly hideous red sweater with Rudolph on it, with an endearingly enormous grin to match. 

“Hellllooooo, Mr. and Mrs. Mosby.” 

Shane raises his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?” 

“You know? Ted Mosby from How I Met Your Mother? And his wife? Because you two are weirdos but it works for you?” 

Ryan clicks his tongue. “We’re okay with turning around and enjoying my abuela’s taquitos at our own apartment if that’s the kind of slander we’re going to endure here.” 

Andrew makes a long-suffering noise. “Fine, fine. Come on in, Finn and Poe.” 

“That’s more like it!” Shane says approvingly, and steps into Andrew and Steven’s apartment. 

While they’re shrugging out of their coats and boots, Ryan surveys the Ilnyckyj-Lim household to see who all is here. He spots the Curly, Jen, Ned, and Zach in the living room, and Adam, Annie, Eugene, and Keith clustered around the dining room table with Steven, all holding a small plate of food and laughing openly. Andrew prompts Ryan and Shane for their Secret Santa gifts, and they hand over the bag containing both of them, Ryan’s eye catching on Andrew and Steven’s cute little Christmas tree where it’s propped up in the corner of the living room, a handful of gifts already underneath it. 

“Are Sara and Quinta here yet?” he asks Andrew, cataloguing them as the only ones not in sight. 

“Nope, they’re going to be fashionably late as always.” 

“It’s because Quinta and Sara know that they’re the party starters!” Eugene shouts from the table. 

“Ex cuse me?” Zach says, hand over his chest. 

“I said what I said, Kornfeld.” 

Ryan curses to himself, struggling epically to get his jacket off without dropping the tray of taquitos. Shane watches him flail for all of about two seconds before he can’t take it anymore, and he steps up to Ryan. 

“Hey, buddy.” 

“Hey yourself.” Ryan says, balancing the tray on the very tips of his fingers. 

Shane laughs, reaching out his own hands. “Let me hold that for you, Ry. If you drop the taquitos we’ll actually be spending the night alone in our apartment with only each other and disappointment as our company.” 

Ryan does not say his thoughts on this out loud: I, for one, would not be upset if that happened, and disappointment would not be the contending emotion up to bat. Instead, he hands the tray over with a heartfelt, “Thanks, big guy. You’re the best.” 

The smile Shane gives him in response is soft and warm and it makes Ryan want all the things he can’t have, so he focuses on wrestling out of his jacket instead of tipping forwards to plant a kiss on Shane’s smiling mouth. When all of their outside gear is off, Ryan takes his tray back and they shuffle over to the dining room table together. All of the food the others brought is spread out across it; Curly’s mouth-watering homemade seven layer dip, full of cheese and beans and veggies next to a small mountain of churros; Annie’s heavenly crock pot of tteokbokki, mozzarella cheese glistening over mounds of rice cakes, fish cakes, kimchi and green onions; they’re eagerly awaiting Sara’s fruit board and Quinta’s corresponding veggie board, but there’s still a handful of other dishes for everyone to snack on, like another crock pot of meatballs, a tray of deviled eggs, a bowl overflowing with pretzels, a tray similar to Ryan’s full of homemade egg rolls, and a massive plate of jalapeño poppers with various dips on the side. Ryan wiggles his taquitos in between the meatballs and the poppers, and puts his guacamole (store bought, not homemade, because he’s still a lazy college student in the midst of finals) next to Curly’s dip. 

Shane, in turn, pulls out various alcohol choices that their group regularly consumes, and puts those on top of the breakfast bar with the other drinks, and their contribution is complete. 

“Those taquitos look amazing, Ryan!” 

Ryan turns to thank Steven, who has basically plastered himself to Ryan’s side and thrown both arms around him. He sees that Steven is both already a little tipsy, and also wearing a sweater to match Andrew’s; instead of it being bright red with Rudolph on the front, it’s bright, baby blue with the Abominable Snowman on the front. 

“Thanks, Steven.” He lightly pokes a 3D tuft of hair coming off of the top of the Abominable Snowman’s head. “I’m digging the sweater.” 

Steven giggles, touching the piece of hair, as well. “Thanks, dude. Andrew picked them out for us.” 

“Not a single part of me is shocked.” 

Steven leans in a little closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “When you and Shane get your shit together, you should come to Friendsmas next year with matching sweaters. You can get Yukon Cornelius and Hermey.”

Ryan chokes a little and shoves Steven’s head away from his. “Steven, not so loud, you idiot!” 

“Calm down--remember our conversation a few days ago?” 

“Yeah, and that conversation did not include Shane while he was in the same fucking room!” 

“Shhh,” Steven soothes, giving Ryan a suffocatingly tight hug. “You need to chill out. Have a meatball.” 

Without waiting for an affirmative, Steven spears a meatball onto a fork and hands it to Ryan. Ryan thinks about telling Steven to shove it up his ass, but instead, he accepts it and takes a moody bite. 

Steven leans in again and whispers: “Come talk to me about the matching sweaters after Secret Santa.” and then spins away like he was never there in the first place. Ryan watches him go to Andrew where he’s talking to the others over the back of the couch and the way Steven plasters himself to Andrew’s back. The easy way that Andrew shifts to give Steven more room to comfortably stand beside him makes something in Ryan’s chest rattle loudly, and it’s this more than anything that opens the yawning pit of want inside of him. He takes another moody bite of his meatball.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Ryan looks up to see Shane next to him, face concerned. Curse Steven Lim and his ability to infuriate, endear, and wound Ryan all at the same time. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Steven’s just being Steven.” 

Shane gives him a slightly different look, one that loudly says Cut the bullshit and tell me what’s really going on here, but before Ryan is forced have a heart-to-heart with his best friend at their Friendsmas party, a loud knock sounds at the door. Steven dances away from Andrew to answer it, and his face lights up at whoever’s on the other side. 

“The queens are here!” 

“You bet your sweet ass we are,” Quinta says, wrestling her giant board in through the doorway. Sara stumbles after Quinta, doing her own balancing act with her board. “Last but not least is what I always like to say.” 

Quinta and Sara come over to the table to get their boards set up, and Ryan uses this as his great excuse to avoid continuing his and Shane’s conversation. He helps them rearrange the table to fit their boards onto it, and when it’s all said and done, they have two large swaths of brilliant color amongst the dips and snack foods and street foods. He steals a carrot stick for his troubles, and Quinta sighs. 

“My masterpiece is already falling apart.” 

“But’s for a good cause!” Ryan sing-songs, and Quinta just smiles and wraps an arm around his waist. Across from them, Shane is chewing on a strawberry and Sara’s arm is around his waist. “Ah, the dynamic duos. Back together at last.” 

“The veggies and the fruits?” Shane asks, laughing. 

“The muscles and the sweeties.” Quinta clarifies, and Ryan laughs, too. 

Sara pops a strawberry into her mouth, obviously not having any qualms about her fruit board getting wrecked right away. “Accurate.” 

They stand around and chat for a while, and slowly but surely, the others come to gather around the table to chat, too. Eventually, all fourteen of them are gathered around the dining room table, eating and laughing and yelling over each other, and Ryan has never felt more in love with his friends than in this moment, crammed in between Quinta and Jen, who also has one of her arms around Ryan’s waist. 

After a considerable amount of snacks and wine has been consumed by all, a loud beep goes off, and Steven cheers. 

“Food’s done, everyone! Time for Friendsmas dinner!” 

It’s even more chaotic after that; the main course, a beautifully cooked and seasoned brisket, is brought out and plated, along with Adam’s giant salad, and all of the sides that the foursome decided to make, including Zach’s famous mashed potatoes, Keith’s perfected ooey, gooey macaroni and cheese, Ned’s homemade biscuits, and Eugene’s incredible cauliflower-based stuffing. They pile all of it onto the table with the snacks, and Ryan has to take a long, long moment to look down at the entire spread with pride. 

“We done did good, gang.” he tells them, beaming. “We are true adults.” 

“I had a Red Bull and gummy worms for breakfast today.” 

Curly puts his hand over Ned’s mouth. “Don’t ruin the magic, sugar.” 

They form a line and everyone gets their share of dinner, piling plates high will all of their homemade foods and proud creations. Steven and Andrew go a little red from all of the praise sent their way for the brisket, and Ned waxes poetic about his Grannie and how she taught him to make his amazing biscuits. They all cram together in Steven and Andrew’s living room, and Ryan spends the meal sitting knee-to-knee with Shane and Annie on the floor, laughing and knocking into each other and stealing bites of mac n’ cheese off of their plates. 

The real star of the show, after the dinner food has been mowed through, turns out to be Jen’s contribution to the meal. She heads into the kitchen and when she comes back out, she’s carrying a long tray with four pies crammed on it. They’re gorgeous, obviously made with care and precision, and Ryan feels his mouth water despite all of the food he’s already scarfed down since arriving at Friendsmas. 

“The star of the show,” Jen proclaims, setting the pie tray down on the table next to all of the other food. “I’m extremely bad at baking, but Rie isn’t, and she had an opening in her schedule and a need for $40, so it all worked out.” 

“Rie made those?” Andrew asks, sounding touched. “We’re all going to die.” 

“Of happiness.” Steven adds, also looked touched. 

Ryan and Annie help Jen get the plates and ice cream out, and then they make another buffet-style line to get dessert. The pies range between apple, cherry, pumpkin, and Ryan’s personal favorite, boysenberry, and paired with plain vanilla ice cream, it’s like biting into a slice of actually heaven. They don’t even wait to sit down again before digging into the pie, and the dining room becomes a cacophony of moans and groans and affectionate swears, all in the name of Rie and her spectacular baking skills. 

At some point, when they all go back for seconds to try a different flavor of pie, Shane takes a bite of Rie’s apple pie and then suddenly seizes Ryan by the shoulder. Ryan stops mid-chew to stare up at him, eyes wide. 

“Ryan, this is the single greatest thing I have ever eaten,” Shane tells him with absolute sincerity. “I don’t know if I will survive this encounter. So, before I die, I just want you to know--” 

Shane pauses for effect. Their faces are inches apart, so close that Ryan can see the faint ring of gold in Shane’s amber eyes, and he thinks he might not survive this encounter, either, if Shane doesn’t get away from him. He thinks about how fast his heart is suddenly beating, and then thinks about how if he tilted his head just so that they’d be kissing, and then Shane finishes with: 

“--that I won’t see you in the afterlife because God is dead and ghosts aren’t real.” 

That shocks Ryan more than if Shane had actually kissed him, and he makes a pained noise, elbowing Shane in the sternum. 

“Shut up, Shane.”

Shane laughs, eyes crinkled and face still so, so close to Ryan’s, and Ryan can’t help but give into himself a little, pressing in just as close. If he tilted his head, he could kiss Shane, so he tilts his head until their foreheads are neatly pressed together and not their mouths. Shane laughs again, quietly, and butts his forehead against Ryan’s before leaning away and taking another bite of pie. It gives Ryan hope, and it gives Ryan despair, and he doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if his Secret Santa gift isn’t enough to show Shane just how much he absolutely loves him. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait that long to find out. Soon after the pies are devoured, and the dining room and kitchen are cleaned up, Steven announces that it’s time to unwrap gifts. 

“Okay, guys, let’s all gather ‘round and begin the Secret Santa festivities!” 

“This is going to end in disaster,” Adam predicts, but does as he’s told, collapsing onto the living room floor next to Curly. 

Since Ryan had to sit on the floor for dinner, he’s granted the opportunity to sit on the couch this round, along with Shane, Annie, and Zach. Ryan and Shane get herded down towards the end of the couch and have to cram themselves next to Keith, who just slings his arm around Shane and pulls him close. 

Steven, who is going to be playing Santa since the whole idea was his, surveys them all once they’re seated and ready to tackle Secret Santa. He rubs his hands together, and then asks: “Alrighty, who wants to go first?” 

No one says anything for a few beats, and then Andrew jumps to it. “I’ll go, baby!” 

Steven sends him an appreciative look. “Okay, so the rule is this--you have to correctly guess who pulled your name before you get to open your gift.”

He fishes Andrew’s gift out from underneath their cute little tree. It’s hulking and box-shaped, and when Steven sets it down in his lap, Andrew grunts. 

“Holy shit,” he swears, tilting the box this way and that. “This is massive. I’m gonna have to guess that it came from my lovely boyfriend since only someone who loves me as much as he does could get me something so heavy.” 

“Gross.” Eugene scowls. 

“And wrong,” Steve adds, wincing apologetically. “Not from me, babe.” 

“Hmmm…” Andrew hums, taking a look around the room. Annie smiles suggestively at him where Steven can’t see, and Andrew relaxes, smiling back. “Annie, then? I know your love for me is more than you can bear.” 

“You’re right about that!” Annie agrees, laughing. “But you’re wrong about me being your Secret Santa. I just wanted to see if you’d fall for it.” 

Andrew pouts at her. “That’s rude. Obviously you don’t love me that much.” 

“Try again!” 

Andrew looks around the room again. He squints at everyone individually, trying to gauge whether or not they’re the ones who got him a Secret Santa gift. Ryan has been friends with everyone to know that they’re all incredible at holding a poker face (except for Curly and Zach), and the longer Andrew goes without guessing, Ryan knows that he’s recalling this fact, as well. 

“Maybe,” Andrew says, after a few trips around the room. “I’m thinking on the wrong end. I guessed that the weight of the gift equalled the weight in love, but maybe it’s the weight in hatred. So my next guess is… Adam Bianchi, my number one arch nemesis!” 

Adam fights a smile at this proclamation. “I can’t believe you got it so quickly. I’m actually impressed.” 

Andrew cheers loudly and tears into his present with the voracity of a wild animal. “I knew you secretly loved me, deep, deep down inside you angry little man.” 

“Unfortunately, you’re correct.” 

Andrew’s about to make another smartass comment about Adam’s secret (but actually not-so-secret) adoration for him, but then he tears the final chunk of wrapping paper off of his gift and abruptly stops. Underneath all the paper and Adam’s sass lies a box containing one of the most beautifully designed crock pots that Ryan has ever seen. Andrew picks up the box with the most delicate touch that he knows how to use, gaping at the design on the cover. The crock pot is a deep, true navy with intricate white floral designs curled up around each other over it, and looks big enough to feed all of them and then some. 

“This is incredible,” Andrew breathes, all teasing forgotten. He looks down at where Adam is sprawled out on the carpet, trying to look nonchalant but instead looking mostly pleased and a little embarrassed. “Where did you find this?” 

“The darkest corners of the internet.” Adam confesses, finally giving into his urge to smile. “I looked long and hard to find the right one, so you’d better cherish that goddamn thing.” 

Andrew hugs the crock pot to his chest like it’s an infant. “I’m going to love and use this thing until the day I die. Thank you, Adam. I mean it. It’s gorgeous.” 

Adam ducks his head. “It’s nothing. You deserve it, man.” 

Steven looks a little choked up, but pushes through it to keep the ball rolling. He fishes out a large square package with a smaller, cuter package taped to the top. “Looks like you’re next then, Adam.” 

Adam takes the change of pace in stride, and looks anywhere but at Andrew and the stars in his eyes. “I am spectacularly bad at this game, but I guess I’ll go with… Annie?” 

“Wrong again, dude.” 

Adam looks at them all, pleading with his big doe eyes for someone to give him a hint. They all remain stoic and unassuming. 

“Quinta?” 

“Nope.”

He glances all the way up at Steven. “Hostess with the mostest?” 

“Incorrect.” 

Adam guess four more people before throwing out, in a moment of complete exasperation. “Christ, I don’t know then--Keith?” 

Keith makes a loud siren noise to signal that Adam has finally guessed correctly. “Hell yeah I was your Secret Santa! You are a hard man to shop for, Mr. Bianchi, but I fuckin’ did it!” 

Adam shakes his head fondly and opens the smaller gift first. It turns out to be an extremely useful eyeglasses cleaning kit, one that Adam can take on the go with him. 

“Since you are a very pragmatic and shitty eye-sighted fella such as myself,” Keith says as explanation. “And I remember you being very distressed at dinner a few nights ago because you just got those glasses and haven’t had time to go back and buy one of their kits.” 

“Thanks, Keith,” Adam says, clearly touched. “I really appreciate it.” 

He turns to the larger gift and opens it to reveal a couple of vinyl records: “Let’s Rock” by The Black Keys and Love Is All You Love by Bank Of Skulls. 

“Since you are a very musically tasteful and funky fella such as myself,” Keith finishes, waving a large hand out in front of himself. 

Adam laughs at that, touching the records carefully. “Thanks, Keith. You’re the best.” 

It goes down the line like so: Keith guesses randomly until he correctly announces that Jen is his Secret Santa, and unwraps her gift of five pounds of Sour Patch Kids and a giftcard to his and Becky’s favorite sushi place; Jen guesses quickly that Sara is her Secret Santa and unwraps her gift of the sweater Ryan stealthily tipped Sara off to, and when Jen flings herself at Sara to hug her, Sara mouths a grateful God bless you to Ryan; Sara guesses after a few tries that Steven is her Secret Santa, and she unwraps one of the awesome argyle sweaters and several pairs of thick winter socks he got her from the store at the mall (which Curly tipped him off to); Steven handles his own gift a few moments before guessing Ryan, Shane, and Eugene, and then finally correctly guessing Curly, who gifted him with a beautiful set of ceramic plates and cookware that match Andrew’s crock pot; Curly, despite not having a good poker face, is great at reading them, so he guesses in only two attempts that Quinta is his, and he nearly cries over her gift of many bottles of holographic nail polish, a blue button-up shirt with the moon and sun on either side of the chest, and a beautiful gold necklace of the moon and sun intertwined; Quinta is even better than Curly at reading poker faces, so she picks Eugene without a second thought and hugs him tightly when she unwraps a huge self care/spa day basket, complete with a bottle of her favorite win, a few Lush products, and a pair of those slipper socks with walruses on them; Eugene guesses Ryan and Annie before guessing, of all people, that Ned is his Secret Santa. 

“Ned actually knows me really well,” Eugene divulges to the group, smiling cutely at Ned. “Opposites attract and all that jazz.” 

Ned cheers loudly. “You guess correct, buddy!” 

Eugene unwraps a large alcohol gift set, one that contains a concerningly large bottle of Jagermeister, a concerningly large bottle of Ancient Age bourbon, and a few fancy schmancy glasses to drink it all out of. He cradles the gift set to his chest and wraps his arms around it, sniffling dramatically. 

“It’s so beautiful. Thank you, Ned. You’re the best.” 

Ned grins at him. “Never forget that you’re the Bailey’s to my lime juice.” 

From there, Ned correctly guesses that Annie is his Secret Santa, and she gifts him with the new illustrated edition of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and a Gryffindor scarf and gloves matching set; and when Annie correctly guesses that Zach is her Secret Santa, Ryan realizes that he might, somehow and someway, have gotten played by the universe. Annie goes nuts over a Blu-Ray special edition of the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon series, complete with an encyclopedia of each monster and a cute Scooby keychain, all packaged in a haunted, dilapidated mansion. Zach, for one reason or another, doesn’t even attempt to guess that Ryan or Shane is his Secret Santa, and goes immediately for Andrew, who cheers and hollers for Zach. When Steven hands Zach his present, Ryan finally understands what all this means, what exactly is fucking going on, and he hardly registers Zach’s present of a cute Star Wars themed sweater and a new BB8 lanyard for his car keys, since his current lanyard is a breath away from disintegrating. 

And then Steven is stepping up to Ryan and Shane, one gift under each arm. Ryan stares up at him in shock, and doesn’t take his present right away when Steven hands it over to him, too busy trying to work out what kind of cosmic fucking joke is being played on him right now. 

“Well, this is a great ending, I must say,” Steven announces, laughing deeply. “Shane, how about you go first?” 

At the sound of his name, Ryan finally looks over at Shane, who is already looking back. Shane looks about the same as he feels, a wild combination of confused, amazed, and a little constipated. But Shane goes with it, bouncing back quickly just like he always does. 

“I’m gonna guess that Ryan is my Secret Santa,” Shane says, finally smiling. “Because there was never a chance of it being anyone else, was there?” 

Steven’s face goes a little funny at this comment, and Ryan feels suspicion well up hot and fast in his belly, but before he can voice it out loud, Shane is peeling back the first strip of wrapping paper, and Ryan’s brain is blank of anything else. His hold on his own gift tightens as he watches Shane peel back the wrapping paper on his Secret Santa gift, hit with the realization that this is it, this is the moment that Shane is going to unveil his beautiful new book to the room and himself and Ryan, this is the moment Ryan has been agonizing over for weeks. 

This is the moment that Shane is going to probably (hopefully) understand how deeply Ryan’s love and devotion for him runs. 

Shane gets down to the box holding his book, and he makes the obligatory: “Wow, you got me a box! Thanks, Ryan!” joke that Ryan only barely remembers to giggle at. And then Shane is carefully peeling back the tape holding the box shut, and then Shane is opening it up, and pulling back the thin layer of tissue paper Ryan put over it, and-- 

Shane inhales sharply, and then does not make another sound. He stares down at the gorgeous, jaw-dropping, very, very expensive collector’s edition of The Wise Man’s Fear in complete and utter stillness, not even fucking breathing or blinking. Ryan stares at his face with the same intensity, breath caught in his throat and hold around Shane’s gift to him white-knuckled. He was expecting surprise, or shock, but he wasn’t expecting… nothing. Ryan is very aware of the thudding of his heart, but he can’t make himself look away or say something to Shane. 

After a very painful, prolonged silence, Shane opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. He reaches out to touch the cover of the book, hand shaking a little, and barely grazes the title with a finger before he jerks his hand away again. 

He does not look up at Ryan. 

“Thank you,” Shane says eventually, voice rusted out and hollow. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Ryan.” 

Ryan’s heart feel like splintered glass, pointed and jagged and brittle in his chest. This was the last reaction he was expecting, and the emotionless response makes him feel like he’s going to be sick, or burst into tears. 

Unable to stand the tension anymore, Steven clears his throat and gestures at Ryan’s gift from Shane. 

“You should open yours, Ryan.” Steven suggests softly. 

Ryan stares at Shane for another long, agonized breath, hoping for any reaction, any at all, and then he jerks his gaze away from his best friend. Ryan’s hands are trembling, and he’s glad that Steven is standing in front of his enough to hide it from everyone but Shane and Keith. He tears through the wrapping paper over his gift mechanically, head still miles away and stuck on Shane’s vacant face. 

He gets down to a similarly bare cardboard box and forces himself to try and act normal. 

“I’m gonna guess that my Secret Santa is Shane,” Ryan says, adding as much humor to his voice as he can stand. “And that he got me a box.” 

Shane doesn’t look up at him, and Ryan, unable to stand the non-reaction, forcefully pulls the tape away from him the box and opens the flaps. There’s a thin layer of tissue paper over the object in his box, and it’s so identical to his gift that he should know what the gift is before he even pulls it away, but his thoughts are a continuous loop of Holy fuck I fucked up what the fuck did I do oh my fucking God he hates me now what did I do-- 

And then he pulls the tissue paper off of his gift and, like a broken record, like a painful sensation of deja vu, inhales sharply and then completely freezes. 

Underneath all of the wrapping paper and cardboard and sparkly tissue paper sits the A24 screenplay book version of Moonlight, the one that Ryan picked up inside of Between the Lines and nearly cried over. He can hardly fucking believe it, can hardly fucking believe that he’s looking at a copy of the book outside of the store, and the sight of it in his lap is so jarring that it steals all of the remaining breath out of his punctured lungs. He’s vaguely aware of the others staring at him and Shane like they’re a pair of space aliens, and of the hard, rigid line of Shane’s body next to him, but Ryan literally does not know what to do. It’s gorgeous, stunning, something he’s longed for for months, but it’s not something he deserves, not after trading its brother for Shane’s gift. 

Ryan’s brain is nothing but white noise, and then it all fucking clicks. Shane’s reaction to The Wise Man’s Fear, his emotionless response, his tenseness--it all falls into place between one second and the next, and Ryan’s gut flips once he puts it all together. 

He finally looks up at Shane, who is already staring back. In complete contrast to his previous face, the one he wears now is so full of emotion and amazement that it hits Ryan like a punch in the sternum, and it forces a breath out of him. 

“Shane--” Ryan starts, and then stops. He glances down at Moonlight again, allowing his palm to rest on its smooth, cool cover. “This is… Shane.” 

He catches movement from the corner of his eye, and he looks away from Shane’s broken open face to Annie, who now has a hand pressed over her mouth. Ryan thinks that she might be crying, for some damn reason, but then he realizes that she’s trying not to laugh at them, and it pushes him into motion. 

He wraps a shaking hand around Shane’s wrist. “Come with me. I’m not doing this here.” 

Shane moves mechanically when Ryan pulls him up from the couch and leads him out onto Andrew and Steven’s balcony, ignoring the eyes that follow them. He shuts the door behind them with a firm bang, and then it’s just the two of them, noisy L.A. traffic in the distance and the wind skittering dead leaves around the on the sidewalk below. Shane is so close to him, doesn’t move away once they’re alone, and it hurts to look at his soft, open face when Ryan is close enough to kiss it. 

Ryan takes a deep breath and moves his hand from Shane’s wrist down to where his fingers are clenched into a fist. Shane’s hand uncurls like a flower in the sun and holds onto to Ryan’s tightly. 

He doesn’t know if he can even get the words out, speak them in existence, but then Shane lets out a breath like he’s been holding since they got to Andrew and Steven’s, and then it’s the easiest thing in the world for Ryan to squeeze his hand and tell him: 

“I traded Ex Machina for that book.” 

Shane makes a noise that could either be a laugh or a scream. “Oh my fucking Christ.” 

Ryan makes the same noise and moves his free hand until it’s curled in the collar of Shane’s sweater. “You did it too, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Shane admits, breath clouding up between them. “I fucking did it too, Ryan.” 

Hearing the admission unravels the rest of the icy ball of fear in Ryan’s chest, until it’s hot and glowing and threatening to overflow. Shane’s other hand settles on the small of his back, fingers curling into his sweater, the one that he bought Ryan once so that they could have yet another matching piece of clothing, and Ryan thinks he might cry because he loves this man so, so much. 

“We are a pair of giant idiots, Shane Madej.”

Shane definitely laughs this time, pulling Ryan closer to him. “We are indeed, Ryan Bergara. I traded my prized copy of The Name of the Wind for your book, only to find out that you traded your prized copy of Ex Machina for mine. We’re absolute fools.” 

“The most foolish,” Ryan agrees. There’s an uncontrollable grin spread across his face, so wide and joyous that it hurts a little. “Only we could pull something so comically tragic during the celebration of our Lord and Savior.” 

“I know,” Shane says, and his answering grin is so wide and gorgeous that Ryan can’t keep his eyes off of it. “I should be more upset at the loss of my book, but I can’t help but feel anything but delight. You’ve turned me into a buffoon.” 

“You did it to me first,” Ryan argues, and then goes in for the kill. “For the record, I’d do it over and over again. I’d trade all my copies of Ex Machina and Moonlight without a second thought to see you smile like that. No question about it.” 

Shane makes another funny noise, and then he takes his hands out of Ryan’s and off of his back and uses them to cup both of Ryan’s wind-cold cheeks. 

“Me too, Ry, without a second goddamn thought.”

This time, Ryan tilts his head so that their mouths brush against each other and Shane tilts his so that they’re pressed together perfectly, so that they’re kissing each other sweetly and with intention. The hand Ryan has on Shane’s collar tightens, uses the hold on Shane to haul him closer, and the other hand wraps firmly around his torso to keep him there. Shane makes another funny, pleased noise and kisses Ryan again, deep and hot and full of more emotion than Ryan even knows what to do with.

He’s aware that all of their friends can clearly see what they’re doing, and so can anyone walking by, but Ryan can’t find it within himself to care. Their friends’ prying eyes and strangers’ passing judgement and the anxiety from picking the wrong gift melts out of Ryan, and all he can bring himself to care about is the way Shane tastes and the way his thumbs are lightly moving over Ryan’s cheeks, like he can hardly believe what they’re doing, either, like he’s afraid Ryan’s going to disappear if he doesn’t keep touching him. 

Eventually, after many kisses and many funny noises, sighs, and mumbles between the slide of their lips, they pull away from each other. Shane rests their foreheads together and Ryan can’t resist sneaking one last kiss against the corner of his grinning mouth. 

“I love you,” Ryan says, because he can’t hold it in anymore. “I can’t believe you traded Name of the Wind for me. I fucking love you, you idiot.” 

Shane laughs deeply, curling his arms around Ryan’s shoulders. “I love you too, little guy. I can’t believe you traded Ex Machina for me. Who fucking does that?”

“Me,” Ryan says fervently, kissing him again. “Me, me, me. You deserve the world.” 

“Oh, we are not doing this here. We can argue about who deserves what when we get home later, Bergara. Unless you’d like to scar our friends more than we already have.” 

Ryan glances over his shoulder at where their friends are all still inside. For one reason or another, they’re all gathered around the dining room table, eating the scraps of food left over and very clearly trying not to look out onto the balcony. Ryan loves them so deeply that it almost brings tears to his eyes. 

“I think we earned this,” Ryan tells him, turning away from the sliding glass door. “Months of watching Steven and Andrew make out in front of us? And Eugene pine helplessly for Zach? And, and, everyone making fun of us for being ‘oblivious enough to be the true cause of the folly of man’ according to Sara? We earned this, dude.” 

Shane concedes almost immediately. “Yeah, we did fucking earn this, huh? But we should get back to the party and pretend like we don’t want to run home and make out like teenagers, don’t you think?” 

Ryan really could not possibly care about keeping up appearances right now, but it is the polite thing to do, so he grudgingly agrees. 

“I guess,” he replies, sighing deeply. He sneaks one more kiss, and Shane sneaks it back, hand sliding into the back of Ryan’s hair. When they pull away, Ryan tells him: “Hour, tops. And then you’re mine.” 

“I’m already yours, moron.” Shane huffs out a laugh, but nods. “One hour, and then we’re gone.” 

“Good. It’s decided.” 

They slip back into the living room, the wall of noise wrapping around them just as much as the sudden warmth. Andrew turns to them when they slide the door shut again, and he yells: 

“Congratulations! It only took you guys your entire teenage years and then some to get it together!” 

Shane laughs again, keeping one arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Thanks, man.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Ryan says, and then fastens his eyes on Steven pointedly. “It was all because of Secret Santa.” 

Andrew blabbers on about how he and Steven are magical and great at getting people together, but Steven takes the words for what they are. He spreads his hands out like What? Did you really expect anything different from me? and all Ryan can do is shake his head and laugh. 

“I’m happy for y’all,” Quinta announces, padding out to the living room with a plate of remaining food. “But we were waiting on you to come back inside so we could start The Polar Express, and now that you’re here, the need to wait is over. Let’s get this show on the road!”

Everyone piles into the living room again; Ryan is about to wedge himself between the edge of the couch and Shane again when he sees Steven head into the kitchen, and decides to go after him. 

“I’ll be right back,” Ryan says to Shane, pushing a hand through his hair. “Want anything?” 

“Just for you to come back sooner,” Shane gushes, and Keith makes a great retching noise beside him. 

“This is already too much.” 

Ryan reaches over Shane to flick Keith on the forehead. “Shut the fuck up. Remember how I helped you to ask Becky out on a date? It’s your turn to repay the favor, Johnny Appleseed.” 

“Fine. You get tonight off, but starting tomorrow, all harassment is fair game.” 

“Deal,” Ryan acknowledges, and then heads for the kitchen. 

When he sneaks into the kitchen, Steven’s back is to him, preparing a drink and heating up some of the food that’s gone cold. Ryan slides up next to him, hip against the counter and arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hi, Steven.”

Steven jumps a little, and then he looks down at Ryan, smile cheesy and guilty in equal measures. “Heyyyy, Ryan.” 

Ryan gives him A Look in response. “You rigged Secret Santa, didn’t you?” 

Steven, for his part, doesn’t even try to deny it. “Only a little. Just for you two.” 

“Why?” 

“‘Why?’ Why do you think, Ryan?” Steven says, exasperated. “You two have been dancing around each other for literal years. I was hoping that my plan would be meddling enough to get one or both of you to do something about it without completely interfering, and lo and behold, it worked like a charm.” 

“And what are you expecting me to say in return? Thanks?” 

Steven’s self-assured look wilts a little at that, and turns a little nervous. “I hope you’re not mad at me, dude. I was hoping you’d say thanks.” 

“Oh, well, in that case--” Ryan drops his arms away from his chest and wraps them around Steven, squeezing him tightly. Steven makes a small ‘oof’ noise at the sudden embrace, but then he hugs Ryan back just as tightly. “Thanks, Steven. I owe you one.” 

“I know, I’m the greatest.” Steven boasts, but then he presses a big, loud kiss to Ryan’s head. “I’m so happy for you, buddy. I’m glad it all worked out.” 

Ryan’s heart melts at the sentiment, and he hugs Steven extra tight. 

“Thanks, dude. I love you lots.” 

“Love you too, loser.” 

After Steven’s food is done and Ryan has acquired his own snacks, they creep back into the living room. Steven drops down onto the floor, curling up next to Andrew, and Ryan crams himself back into his little corner, right up against Shane. Shane pulls him close and drops a kiss onto his forehead, and Ryan feels so full and content that he could burst from it. 

Instead of yelling in the middle of the living room, or doing something like asking for Shane’s hand in marriage right there in front of their friends, Ryan just cuddles into Shane’s side and takes it all in. All of the urgency from before, the urgency to see Shane’s reaction to his gift and the urgency to get an emotion out of him and the urgency to get as close to him as possible, completely melts away. His heart beats strong and steady, and his breaths come out the same, and Ryan would be content to stay in this moment forever. With his best friends piled all over the living room and the love of his life pressed up against his side. With nowhere to be and nothing to do besides sit in the moment and enjoy it. He’s sure the urgency will return once they leave Andrew and Steven’s, but for right now, all Ryan cares about is being surrounded by the person and the people he loves the most. 

While the previews are still going, Ryan tilts his head back so that his lips brush up against Shane’s jaw, and he whispers: 

“Thank you for my gift. It’s beautiful.” 

Shane looks down at him, eyes liquid and breathtakingly fond. “You too, Ry. I love it.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Keith leans around Shane to glare playfully at them. “I will annihilate you both if you interrupt The Polar Express with your nonsense.” 

Ryan laughs, boneless against Shane. “Fine. We’ll stop.” 

“I bet you will.” Keith says, clearly believing the opposite. “Leave room for Jesus.” 

“And hot chocolate!” Annie declares, and then everyone bursts into loud song, singing “Hot Chocolate” from The Polar Express in perfect unison. 

As they sing their way through the previews, and then settle down to start the actual movie, Ryan grins and sings loudly and laughs with his whole body, and for the first time in his life, he feels overwhelmingly grateful for Steven Lim’s meddling.