Work Text:
Not quite remembering where or when he fell asleep is not an irregular occurrence in the life of Ryan Bergara; an expert insomniac, who often lulls himself to sleep by worrying about various projects. No, Ryan has spent many a morning wondering how exactly he managed to get into bed, when the last thing he remembers is being bone tired eating a sandwich at the kitchen table, or generally grunting in Roland’s direction.
What is an irregularity is opening his eyes only to see an unfamiliar ceiling; feeling an unfairly soft mattress under his back, and, after stretching out, thunking one Mr. Shane Madej on the arm.
Ryan screams.
This, obviously, wakes Shane. Ryan’s pretty sure he’s never seen 6’4” of gangly limbs move so quickly as Shane reaches out for Ryan. Ryan jumps as soon as Shane’s hand makes contact with his arm, and he skitters to the corner of the room with the speed and grace of a drunk gazelle.
“What the fuck?” Ryan asks.
“Ry,” Shane says. He gets up carefully, and Ryan notes Shane’s not wearing pants, just boxer shorts. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m not fucking okay!” Ryan answers.
There are definitely worse situations than waking up next to a dude you know (you could wake up next to a dude you don’t know), but Ryan feels justified in freaking out over pantless Shane. “Why the fuck are you in my bed?”
“It’s our bed, babe,” Shane answers.
“Babe?!” Ryan asks, incredulous. “Did you just call me babe?!”
“Okay, I can tell something’s wrong,” Shane says, which is the understatement of the fucking century. He moves slowly, carefully, as if dealing with a skittish animal. “I’m gonna take the kids to daycare and then we’ll get you help, okay? It’s gonna be okay, Ry.” Shane puts on a pair of pants as Ryan turns away and then he’s gone, closing the door behind him.
Ryan waits until he hears footsteps go down the stairs and a slam of the front door. It’s then he decides to get the fuck out of there. He’s not sure what kind of fucked up prank Shane is pulling, but there’s no way he’s staying for the inevitable ‘gotcha!’ moment.
Ryan walks out of the bedroom, passes by the bathroom, and catches a glimpse of something in the mirror. He stops, his blood running icy cold. He turns slowly, like maybe if he doesn’t move fast it’ll change but, nope, there she is, long hair and soft curves and fucking boobs . He puts his hand up to the mirror, and the woman copies him. He’s in a woman’s body.
Everything goes dark, then, and Ryan falls to the ground.
-
Ryan wakes up in a cold sweat.
He scrambles for familiar surroundings - the lumpy mattress he’s owned since college under his back, knocks his glasses off the nightstand, and grabs for his own phone. He squints at it and it unlocks, reading 7:00AM in his own room, in his own apartment. Thank fucking god.
A weird dream, then. Admittedly, it’s the first time that Ryan’s ever dreamed of a pantless Shane, but he’s had stranger dreams. He once, after a particularly deep Reddit deep dive, dreamed that Roland was secretly a reptile person. Now that would suck.
Ryan uses all his strength to stumble through getting dressed and looking somewhat presentable. He feels like he’s been out all night, despite getting to bed at a reasonable-ish time.
Maybe it had something to do with the dream about Shane. He’ll feel better after he gets to the office with a nice, warm cup of coffee.
At least that’s what he tells himself.
Ryan’s a zombie throughout his entire ride to work. He barely manages to grunt out a hello before he’s at the coffee machine. He puts his mug down, presses in the appropriate K-Cup, and is actually managing to feel a little better when-
“Rough night?”
Shane’s voice startles Ryan out of his trance. He’s got his hand on Ryan’s lower back, which has never bothered Ryan before (they’ve got a touchy-feely relationship), but now it burns like a brand into his skin.
Weird.
“Huh?” he asks with all the eloquence of a sleep-deprived former frat bro.
Shane chuckles. “I asked if you had a rough night,” he reiterates. “If you were any more of a zombie right now, we could finally make Dawn of the Dead 2 .”
“You don’t mess with perfection, Shane,” which is Ryan’s stance on all sequels except Frozen 2 , which is unequivocally better than Frozen .
The Keurig finally produces his coffee and Ryan takes a long sip, moaning in appreciation at the caffeine.
Shane raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch today? There’s this new Texmex place that Steven put me onto.”
A new Texmex place sounds right up Ryan’s alley, but he’s not sure he can look at Shane over some tacos without thinking about the pantless thing. He just needs to buckle down and focus on his work. The burning on his lower back where Shane’s hand was will stop eventually. “Nah, got work to do,” Ryan says curtly.
If Shane’s disappointed, he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Steven’s calling him over. Ryan’s secretly grateful that he can finish his coffee in peace.
He gets to his desk, puts on his bulky headphones, and gets to work. By the time he’s drained his coffee, he’s surprised to notice he doesn’t feel any less tired.
Time moves quickly as it usually does when Ryan’s researching locations; he jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He pulls off his headphones and looks up - not that he needs to. The burning warmth in his shoulder tells him exactly what he needs to know about the hand’s owner.
“Hey,” Shane says. He’s got his jacket on, and he smiles gently. Ryan wonders how tired he must look. “You sure about the Texmex?”
Ryan looks at the time. 12:30pm. Jesus, he’s really out of it today.
“Yeah,” Ryan answers. He puts his headphones down and stretches out his arms, ignoring Shane’s wince when his shoulder pops. “I think I’m gonna take a nap instead.”
“Alright,” Shane answers dejectedly.
Just as Shane’s about to walk away, Ryan grabs his wrist. “If you were to bring me back a taco, I wouldn’t be mad about it.”
Shane smiles, and jeez, since when is his smile so dazzlingly bright? “You and I both know just one won’t be enough,” Shane says, like he’s a fucking Lay’s commercial, and then he’s gone.
Ryan stands, all of his limbs heavy like he’s been weight lifting. He barely manages to drag himself into the Breather Office, close the door, and curl up on the couch before he’s out of it, into a deep sleep.
-
“Ry? Ry. Please wake up, Ry.”
Ryan swats at the hand that’s holding ice on his forehead as he blinks open his eyes. It’s Shane, of course, but the pantless variety (now with slacks), and he’s once again in the unfamiliar bathroom. “Oh fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back with a thump against the linoleum.
“Oh don’t do that,” Shane implores, his hand coming up to the back of Ryan’s head. Ryan swats him away again, and Shane moves a bit so he’s kneeling fully in front of Ryan. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He holds up four fingers, two on each hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Four, you dumbass,” Ryan replies. He pulls himself to standing and looks in the bathroom mirror, where he’s still greeted by the sight of the woman. He puts his hands under his own boobs (surprisingly weighty) and then drops his hands as he turns to Slacks Shane. “I’m a man.”
“Oh,” Shane replies.
For a second, Ryan thinks maybe Slacks Shane is less infuriating than his Shane, until Shane reaches for his hands and says, “Baby, how long have you felt this way?”
Ryan rolls his eyes so hard he’s shocked they don’t fall out of his head. “Not like that, idiot. This-” he gestures to the woman in the mirror, “-is not me.”
Shane frowns. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Ryan gives him the only ‘reasonable’ explanation he’s been able to come up with so far: “I’m from an alternate universe.”
Shane’s frown intensifies. He reaches a hand out and puts it on Ryan’s forehead. “Just how hard did you hit your head?”
Ryan slaps the hand away. “I’m fucking serious. Ask me something.”
“Okay.” Shane looks up at the ceiling in thought for a second. “What’s your bra size?”
“Medium to hefty. How the fuck would I know?”
“What’s your opinion on Frozen 2 ?”
“The only superior sequel.”
“What was your go-to order at Taco Bell in college?”
“Cheesy Gordita Crunch with a Baja Blast. Baja Blasts are fucking nasty but hey man, Live Más.”
“How well do you know the songs from Encanto ?”
Ryan shrugs. “As well as anyone else, I guess.”
Shane’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “You really aren’t Ryanne.”
Despite everything, Ryan’s curious. “Is she like a big Encanto fan or something?”
“On the contrary,” Shane replies. “She’s a mom. She’s seen Encanto so many times she wants to personally eighty-six Bruno.” He rests his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, and there’s something so frantic about his expression that Ryan doesn’t shrug him off this time. “I can’t believe this.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “Good to know that you’re infuriatingly skeptical in every universe.”
“I exist in your universe?” Shane asks. When Ryan nods, he adds, “What am I like?”
“We’re not,” Ryan motions vaguely between them. “Like this; whatever you guys are. We’re just friends in our universe.”
“Oh,” Shane answers, his face falling a little, but he’s stupidly unreadable even in this universe.
“We own our own media company called Watcher with this dude named Steven Lim, not sure if he exists in your universe.”
Shane’s face lights up again. “Good ol’ Stevie Lim? He works with us. Great guy, the kids love him. He came to our wedding and he’s the kids’ godfather. You know, all that good shit.”
Ryan can help but feel his heart melt at the idea of Steven being godfather to their kids. “Yeah, he’s a good guy in my universe too. Little obsessed with gold for my taste but,” Shane smiles. “Anyway. We’re also ghost hunters.”
“Let me stop you right there,” Shane says, a hand up. “In your universe I, Shane Madej, am a ghost hunter?” When Ryan nods, he asks, “Am I a fucking lunatic?”
Ryan smiles. “Your status as a lunatic has nothing to do with your career choices.”
Shane rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. “Shut the fuck up.”
“So yeah,” Ryan finishes eloquently. “That’s about it for me.” He pauses, and then adds, “My name is Ryan, by the way.”
Shane lets out a soft chuckle. “Ryan and Ryanne. The universe sure isn’t creative.”
“It tends to recycle people, evidently,” Ryan answers. Afterall, out of all people for the universe to recycle as a husband, Shane isn’t the worst choice. He could see how, in an alternate universe, they would make a good couple.
“I guess you wanna know about me, huh?” Shane asks.
“Dying to,” Ryan intones.
Shane rolls his eyes fondly. “Glad to know you’re a brat in every universe.”
He stands and holds out a hand. Ryan takes it to pull himself to standing, ignoring the heat that flares up even in this universe. Shane doesn’t let go as he leads them into the hallway.
Shane stops them in front of a giant framed picture on the wall. It’s Shane, in a tuxedo, his stupid hair combed back, a goofy smile on his face. In his arms is a woman, Ryanne, in a tight white wedding dress that hugs her curves and her legs. Her hair is pulled up in a bun, curls falling over her face, and she’s smiling up at Shane like he hung the moon and the stars. It’s his own body, kind of, so he doesn’t feel guilty sneaking a glance at her rack. It’s nice. He’s a hot woman, and he would totally bang himself.
“That was our wedding,” Shane says. When Ryan turns to look at him, Shane’s looking at the photo with sparkles in his eyes. “We got married 6 years ago, after knowing each other since college. It was one of the happiest days of my life.”
Ryan’s Shane rarely shares emotion so freely, so Ryan’s kind of lost for words. “Nice tits,” he blurts out.
Shane gives him a goofy smile. “Right?” he agrees. He motions to two pictures on a stand under the wedding photo. “Our daughters, twins,” Shane says. “That’s Sofia and that’s Isabella. They’re 3.”
Sofia and Isabella are identical, and two of the cutest little girls Ryan’s ever seen in his life. They’ve got tanned skin, long curly hair, warm, kind eyes, and the exact same goofy smile as Shane. One of them is wearing a dress, the other, a flannel shirt over an X-Files t-shirt.
Ryan can’t help the pull in his chest he feels looking at them - little versions of himself, his dream. “Sick shirt,” he says instead of any of that.
“Their mom is into all that ghost shit,” Shane replies. “Should have known she’d be a whack job in every universe.”
“A whack job with great tits and a horrible taste in men,” Ryan jokes.
His eyes flick back up to the wedding picture, Ryanne and Shane curled up into each other, lovestruck expressions on their faces. “So what do you guys do, if you don’t ghost hunt?”
“We have actual grown-up jobs,” Shane teases. Ryan rolls his eyes. “I’m a high school history teacher and Ryanne’s the principal.”
Ryan’s eyes light up. “Wait, I get paid to boss you around all day?” Banging rack, cute kids, and he gets money for telling Shane what to do? Ryanne’s life is stacking up to be pretty sick.
Shane rolls his eyes. “You’re incorrigible,” Shane says with an eye roll. He looks at his watch and swears under his breath. “I gotta go pick the girls up from daycare.” He turns to walk away and then he stops himself. “You’ll be okay if I leave you alone?”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “I’m an interdimensional traveler, not a teenage boy throwing a house party. I’ll be fine.”
“An interdimensional traveler,” Shane whispers, like he can’t quite believe it still. He goes in to hug Ryan and then pulls back at the last second, awkwardly manipulating long arms until he holds out his hand. Ryan, bemused, shakes Shane’s hand, and then watches as Shane turns and leaves.
Ryan wants to spend more time exploring, but the fatigue from earlier comes back. He finds the bedroom again and collapses down on the unfairly comfortable mattress. The last thing he sees as he’s pulled over is a picture of Shane and Ryanne on the bedside table.
-
Okay, so something is obviously fucking wrong.
Ryan wakes up on the couch in the Watcher office. He’s no stranger to recurring dreams, especially hyper-realistic dreams. However, nothing this vivid or with such continuity has ever happened in his dreams before. He sure as fuck never dreamed about himself and Shane being married, parents , working together in a highschool, and having weirdly intense emotions regarding Encanto .
Ryan looks around to see the office is mostly empty for lunch; apparently it’s only been a few minutes since he fell asleep on the couch. He goes back to his computer and opens a tab on Google.
Hesitating for a moment, Ryan opens a private tab. He’s definitely on some kind of watchlist for all the shit he’s Googled, but he doesn’t want Steven to open his browser history for some reason and witness a mental breakdown in progress.
The search bar blinks at him in mockery.
travel through dreams
Go Places When You’re Asleep With Lucid Dreaming
Jan 13, 2015 - Fancy flying, or hanging out with celebrities? With simple techniques you can learn to control your dreams.
Lucid Dream Story; Traveling Through Sleep
Mar 29, 2022 - I'm a Travel Writer Who Stopped Traveling. So I Turned to Lucid Dreaming. Visiting places during REM sleep has done more than soothe my…
recurring dreams real
The Science of Recurring Dreams is More Fascinating Than…
Aug 20, 2021 - Recurring dreams often occur during times of stress, or over long periods of time, sometimes several years or even a lifetime.
Recurring Dreams: What Do They Mean? - Healthline
May 20, 2020 — Recurring dreams are dreams that repeat more than once. They often have themes such as confrontations, being chased, or falling. You can have…
interdimensional travel dreams
Reality Hopping Through Dreams
Jun 19, 2018 - Have recurring dreams about alternate realities? Feel tired during the day? Perhaps your dreams aren’t really dreams.
Bingo.
Ryan clicks through to the website, which looks like it hasn’t been updated since the early 90s. The bright green text against the dark purple background makes his eyes hurt; the fonts differ between paragraphs, with sketchy looking ads on the side banners. It looks, in short, like it’s run by a fucking lunatic, which is how you know you’re onto something good.
Reality Hopping Through Dreams
Have recurring dreams about alternate realities? Feel tired during the day? Perhaps your dreams aren’t really dreams.
Sometimes the universe hands us a challenge we aren’t ready to accept, but that we must accept nonetheless. It helps us to grow, to learn more about ourselves. If you’re experiencing an interdimensional challenge and need help, call Mystic Maya.
There’s a number underneath.
On one hand, it’s probably a bad idea to contact a complete stranger with a cryptic message and a website from 1991 to discuss his dreams.
On the other hand, Ryan’s never been the most cautious dude. Which is how he winds up at Mystic Maya’s doorstep at dusk, one hand coming up to knock at the rotting wood of her door.
Mystic Maya is exactly like Ryan expected. She answers the door and Ryan’s instantly pulled into a whirlwind of color and fabric, incense burning somewhere in the background as a five-foot something woman with black hair to her knees whisks him into her home.
She pulls out a chair and plops him into it before he gets the chance to speak; taking the seat across from him. A black cat passes by Ryan’s feet. It’s almost an out-of-body experience.
“Ryan Bergara,” Mystic Maya says. “The universe has told me about you.”
Ryan’s not too sure what to say about that. “Nice to meet you,” he answers. “So, uh, I guess I should get right into it, huh?”
Mystic Maya waves her hands dismissively. “No need,” she says. “The universe has already told me everything I need to know.” She takes both his hands, and lightly scratches his palms with blood red acrylics. “They’re trying to teach you a lesson.”
Ryan waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Who are they?”
Maya points cryptically up to the ceiling.
“Okay?” Ryan replies. “Well, what is the lesson?”
Mystic Maya pulls away to lean back in her chair. One of the cats climbs onto her lap and nuzzles at her arm. “I’m not at liberty to say,” she answers. “But if you do not learn the lesson in a timely manner, the consequences will be grave.”
Ryan gulps. “Grave?” he asks. When she just nods, he asks, “How grave is grave, exactly?”
“You will be stuck in the alternate reality,” a long pause from Maya, “forever.”
The silence looms heavy over them. Ryan feels a little like he’s going to vomit. He tries to think of something to break the thick silence between them, but luckily, Mystic Maya does it for him.
“I’ve said too much.” She stands abruptly, and the cat jumps up to stand on her shoulders. “You don’t have much time to waste.”
Ryan has so many more questions, but the incense is starting to make him dizzy and, to his dismay, the fatigue is settling into his bones again. In a haze, he thanks Mystic Maya for her time, and then stumbles to his car in her long driveway. He barely gets inside and drops his head against the wheel before he’s out.
-
“Hey Ry.”
Ryan wakes up in the bed, tucked in with care. It’s dark outside now, and he squints his eyes at the light that comes from the hallway, illuminating Slacks Shane, now in a pair of sweatpants. Ryan wonders just how many pants this version of Shane owns. “Ryan?” Sweatpants Shane asks.
“Unfortunately,” Ryan answers. He pushes himself up to half-sitting, half-laying on his elbows. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight pm,” Shane replies. “I thought you just might sleep forever.” He leans against the door frame, his ridiculously big head lolling against it. “You want something to eat?”
This body hasn’t eaten all day, and Ryan can tell. He attempts to quiet a grumble that rises from his stomach (Shane smiles) and then answers, “Yes, please.”
“What do you want?” Shane inquires. “Interdimensional traveler’s choice.”
Ryan doesn’t even have to think it out. “Taco Bell,” he answers immediately because, if there’s one thing that gets Ryan theorizing on how to fix a problem, it’s a Cheesy Gordita Crunch.
Shane laughs, but when Ryan doesn’t crack a smile, he furrows his brow. “You’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ryan asks. “I do all my best thinking over Taco Bell.”
Shane gives Ryan a look he can’t quite decipher. He must find something in Ryan’s gaze that convinces him, because he holds his hands up. “Alright. A Baja Blast and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch.”
“Can’t have just one,” Ryan quotes his Shane from earlier.
Shane practically beams at him. “Right,” he answers. “I’ll be right back.”
When Shane returns with the bag and tries to lead Ryan to the dining room table, Ryan falters. He’s just barely accepted Sweatpants Shane and this unfairly comfortable bed - he’s not sure he’s ready for their dining room table, where Shane and Ryanne have probably eaten thousands of times together, with their kids, spooning organic hipster baby food into their mouths.
No, Ryan drops his ass right on the carpet of the bedroom floor and reaches for the bag. “On the floor?” Shane asks in a surprised tone. “Really? You’re not afraid of making a mess?”
Ryan smiles up at him. “Live Más.”
Shane laughs as he joins Ryan on the floor. He hands out the food; two Cheesy Gordita Crunches for Ryan. They eat in relative silence, both of them making faces in turn to the gross, yet comforting flavor of the Baja Blast. Shane hasn’t stopped smiling at Ryan this entire time, and it’s honestly starting to freak him out.
“What’s with the goo goo eyes, man?” Ryan asks as he takes another sip of his drink.
Shane blushes, like he’s embarrassed to have been caught out. “It’s nothing,” he says.
Ryan doesn’t reply - a surefire way to get his Shane to elaborate. Luckily, it works for this Shane as well. “It’s just,” he shrugs, smiling at the floor. “Ryanne and I haven’t done something like this since college.” He shakes his head, and when he meets Ryan’s eyes, there’s something unreadable about his expression. “It’s nice.”
“Alright,” Ryan says once he finishes the last of his second Cheesy Gordita Crunch. He claps off the crumbs on his hands onto the carpet. Shane makes a face but doesn’t say anything. “So when I was in my reality just now, I visited a mystic.”
Shane scoffs. “You visited a mystic?” he asks, incredulous.
“Hey man, I’m wearing your wife like a skinsuit. You got any hot theories?” Shane doesn’t have an answer for that, so Ryan feels justified in continuing. “Anyway, she was vague as hell-”
“Because she was scamming you for money,” Shane interrupts.
Ryan rolls his eyes. “However,” he continues, a firm finger at Shane urging him not to interrupt. Shane just shrugs, sips at his drink. “She said that the universe, or whatever, is trying to teach me a lesson. And if I don’t learn it in time, I’ll-”
Ryan falters. “You’ll what?” Shane asks.
Ryan’s already freaked out about the idea of being stuck in a woman’s body, mother of two, Shane Madej’s wife and a high school principal forever. He’s seen the way Shane looks at Ryanne in photos - like she hung the moon and the sun. He can’t take that away from this Shane, not until it’s final. “She didn’t really say.”
“Huh.” Shane leans back against the bed as he pensively sips at his drink. “So what lesson do you think the universe is trying to teach you?”
Ryan shrugs. “I don’t know, man. But when I go back, I’m throwing all the shit at the wall hoping something will stick.”
Shane rolls his eyes. “You’re crass,” he accuses.
Ryan smiles, bemused. “What, and Ryanne isn’t?”
“Not unless it’s directed at Bruno,” Shane replies.
Ryan’s really gotta do a deep dive into this movie to figure out his counterpart’s vendetta against a cartoon character.
“Hey,” Shane says. He smiles over the edge of his drink. “Maybe you’re in love with me. Ghost hunting me, that is.”
Now it’s Ryan’s turn to roll his eyes as he gently shoves Shane’s shoulder. “Nah, I’m afraid only one Ryan has horrendously bad taste.”
Shane laughs. Ryan yawns, which prompts Shane to put a back hand between Ryan’s shoulder blades. Ryan doesn’t push him off this time, even though the heat is nearly overwhelming. “You should get some rest. All this,” Shane gestures vaguely with one hand, like even now he can’t bring himself to admit readily to the supernatural. “must be exhausting.”
Ryan would argue, but the now familiar fatigue is settling into his bones again, especially with Shane rubbing small circles into his upper back. He leans his head against Shane’s shoulder, and is out like a light in seconds.
-
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
Ryan wakes up to little feet bouncing on the bed. The unfairly comfortable mattress, the residual heat from the other side of the mattress, and (he cracks open his eyes) the curly brown hair attached to a tiny female Shane Madej tips him off to the fact that he didn’t travel back to his reality last night.
He doesn’t have time to freak out about it, though, because once she realizes her mom is awake- weird thought- the little girl bounces off the bed, curls her little hand around Ryan’s wrist as best as she can manage, and makes her best effort to pull him from the bed. “Mooom!” she screams. “Breakfast!”
Shane, in a different pair of slacks, appears in the doorway, another little girl on his hip. “Want some breakfast before work, babe?”
At that, Ryan scrambles out of bed. He makes his way to Shane’s child-free side and hisses, “Work?”
Shane glances between the girls and mutters, “We’ll talk about it in the car.”
Which is how Ryan winds up in the front seat of a Toyota Sienna with twin girls talking his ear off. “And then Miss Susie let us play with Legos for, like, a million hours! But Sofia wants to play dolls.”
An offended gasp from Sofia. “That’s ‘cause dolls are funner than Legos.”
“Uh uh!”
“Uh huh!”
“Legos and dolls can both be fun,” Shane offers.
“I guess,” Isabella huffs.
They continue chattering and idly bickering the entire ride to daycare. They leave the car and in tandem say, “Love you Mom! Love you Dad!” before running out to a daycare worker who can’t be older than twenty-five. She waves to them and Shane waves back, muttering, “Miss Susie,” to Ryan.
“Anyway,” Shane says as he pulls onto the freeway. “You have to go back to work. I can’t keep telling people you don’t feel well because you hit your head. I’m a 6’4” white man. A missing wife isn’t a good look for me.”
Ryan groans. “Can’t you just tell people I died?”
Shane snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure Ryanne’ll appreciate that when you guys switch back.”
‘If we switch back,’ Ryan thinks, but he doesn’t say anything.
Shane pulls into the parking lot of a high school. Students are filing in already, despite the fact that they’re obscenely early. Ryan’s impressed by their commitment.
Ryan’s not even two steps into the building when he’s tackle-hugged by a blur of dark curly hair. “Ry!” cries the familiar voice attached to his chest. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”
“Sara?” Ryan asks.
Sara pulls back and it’s definitely her; the mischievous twinkle in her eyes defies interdimensional laws, apparently. “Of course,” she answers with a bemused smile. She shoots Shane a playful look, “Did you wipe her memory or something?”
Shane waves her off in a way that looks totally suspicious. If Ryan’s around for much longer, he’ll have to train Shane on remaining incognito. “Just residual effects from the concussion. Be kind to her today.”
He takes Ryan’s bag, presses a (warm) hand to his lower back, and says, “Let me walk you to your office, honey.”
As soon as they arrive at the office with the door shut behind them, Ryan flops onto an office chair. His pants are too tight, his shirt scratchy, and the underwire of his bra is digging into his skin. Being a professional woman, he has decided in the ten or so minutes he’s been roleplaying as one, sucks.
“Okay so,” Shane gingerly places Ryan’s bag on the floor next to the desk. “I’ll leave you to do your job.” Despite this, he makes no effort to leave, which is fine by Ryan.
Ryan leans forward and whispers, “How do I do my job?”
“I don’t know!” Shane exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “Just do principal things.”
The bell rings (something Ryan is apparently not responsible for) and Shane swears. “Shit, I gotta go. You’ll do great.” He leans forward as if to kiss Ryan, but pulls back at the last second. He gives Ryan one final look, and then says, “Bye” before darting out.
As it turns out, being principal requires talking to students who get in trouble, responding to emails, and answering the phone occasionally, all of which Ryan does a passable job at. He really hopes he manages to find a way out of this reality-hopping soon, though, otherwise Ryanne might be out of work.
Shane has to stay after for some kind of school thing, so Ryan orders an Uber.
As he’s waiting in the entryway to the school, peeking out the window for his Uber, Sara comes up behind him and rests her hand on his arm.
“Hey,” she greets, her curly hair a wild mess on top of her head from where she’s pulled it into a bun. “What’s up with you?”
Ryan feels his blood run cold. If he can’t even pretend to be Ryanne for a day, how’s he gonna do it for two, or three, or- he shudders to think about the possibility of forever. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been acting weird,” Sara says. “Weird and fidgety and just, like. Not yourself, I guess. Just wanted to check on you.”
Ryan shrugs. He picks at his nails (they had been perfectly painted when he first switched - he’s almost sure there won’t be a single chip left by the end of the day) so he doesn’t have to meet her eye. In his universe, Sara is supernaturally perceptive. He hopes this universe’s Sara isn’t the same way, but the odds don’t seem good. “Just a weird day, I guess. Aftermath of the concussion, maybe. I’ll live.”
“It’s not just today, though,” Sara says. That makes Ryan’s head snap up. So Ryanne’s been acting weird for a while. “It’s the past couple of weeks. You and Shane just haven’t been yourselves.”
Ryan’s phone buzzes in his hands. His Uber is here; saved by the bell. “I gotta go,” he tells Sara instead of answering. He holds up his phone. “Uber’s here.”
Sara sighs. It’s evident from this conversation that she’s used to being blown off by Ryanne, so at least Ryan’s convincing in that respect. “Fine,” she says. “Just know that I’m here to talk to if you need me.”
Ryan nods his gratitude, then rushes to the Uber so quickly that the driver gives him the side eye before driving off. By the time he gets home (and tips his Uber driver because even in an interdimensional hellscape he’s not a monster), he’s suddenly bone tired. He barely unlocks the door and gets on the couch before he passes out.
-
Ryan’s never been more happy to wake up in his car.
He’s in the parking lot outside Mystic Maya’s, with the light shining through his windows into his eyes alerting him to the fact that he’s been asleep for a while. He checks his phone (it’s 7am), but can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed that he fell asleep in his car.
Ryan’s back in his reality, and he’s determined to do everything he can to convince whatever omnipotent bastard that’s fucking with him that he’s learned his lesson.
Ryan has notoriously never gotten to work earlier than 9:15am. Today, he’s at the office at 7:55am with coffees and donuts in hand for the entire staff when Katie comes to open the door. She looks him up and down as she approaches, keys in hand. “Alright,” she says. “Who are you and what have you done with Ryan Bergara?”
“I’m turning over a new leaf, Katie,” Ryan replies proudly. He holds the door open when she unlocks it, and hands her a coffee as she steps through.
She still eyes him with suspicion even as she takes a sip of her coffee. “If you and Shane have gotten into some new drugs, you have to let me know before there’s a drug raid. I’m not mentally or emotionally prepared for that yet.”
“No drugs,” Ryan answers. “Just me.” He tilts his head up a little so the universe can hear, “The new Ryan Bergara.”
As every staff member comes in, Ryan hands them a coffee and leads them to the breakroom, where he’s set up boxes of donuts. He spends the entire morning working, and is so involved that he jumps when he feels someone’s hand on his arm.
“Hey man,” it’s Shane. “Steven and I are going out to lunch. Wanna come?”
“Sure!” Ryan answers. He gets out of his chair, taking care to make sure his headphones are in a safe position and his work is saved. “Always happy to spend some time with my good friends Shane and Steven!”
“Your good-” Shane mutters under his breath. He places the back of his hand against Ryan’s forehead and, to Ryan’s chagrin, it still burns hot against his skin. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Never better,” Ryan answers. He walks over to Steven, who’s frowning at emails on his phone.
“So what are we thinking for lunch?” Shane asks. “Chipotle?”
“I think we should let Steven choose,” Ryan answers. “He does so much for our company, and I think it would be nice to acknowledge how much I appreciate him.”
That gets Steven’s attention. He looks up slowly from his phone and frowns at Ryan. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks. He looks around, and then leans in a bit. “Is it drugs? Katie warned me I may need a drug contingency plan.”
Ryan smiles through gritted teeth. “No drugs,” he answers. “Just the new Ryan Bergara.”
They end up going to some fancy place for lunch, where Steven raves in great detail about the food. Normally, Ryan would take the opportunity to lovingly razz him, but instead he compliments Steven’s knowledge and engages him in conversation that only vaguely makes sense to him; all the while ignoring Shane’s dumbfounded stare.
When they get back to the office, Steven walks off to do some work, a pep in his step. Ryan’s about to follow to get even more work done when Shane stops him.
“Hey man,” he says. Ryan really looks at Shane for the first time today, and recognizes the concerned look in his eyes that he saw from Slacks Shane the other day. He shakes his head, trying to put all thoughts of the alternate universe Shane out of his head forever. “You okay? For real?”
“I’m fine,” Ryan answers. It’s evident Shane isn’t convinced, so Ryan sighs and leans in a little bit. “It’s- I can’t explain it to you, okay? Everything’s fine. Or at least everything will be fine. You just have to trust me on this one. Can you do that?”
Shane exhales a long breath. “I guess I can do that. I’m just worried for you, man.”
“I know,” Ryan replies softly. He turns back to his desk, where precious work time is ticking away. “I just have work to do.”
He works diligently past 5pm, and then politely turns down Steven’s offer to come out for drinks, opting instead to cook dinner for Danny and Roland. In the years he’s known them, he’s never cooked dinner, but luckily his frat boys-turned-adults roommates aren’t too observant. He cleans up when they’re done eating, and tackles the giant pile of dishes in the sink.
By the time he’s done and in bed, a satisfaction settles into his bones where the fatigue usually lies. He’s sure he’s done it - he’s proven himself to the universe. He’s broken this stupid loop thing. When he awakes, he assures himself as he closes his eyes and lets sleep overtake him, he’ll be right in this bed, right where he belongs.
-
Ryan wakes up on a couch.
“No,” he mutters under his breath as he frantically looks around at the home he’s become unfortunately very accustomed to - the photos on the walls, the embroidered pillows, his and Shane’s smiling, suburbia faces. “No, no, no!” he nearly yells. “It was supposed to work this time!”
In Ryan’s (admittedly limited) experience with three year olds, they have no concept of appropriate timing, and the same reigns true for Isabella, who jumps on the couch as soon as she deems Ryan awake-ish. “Mommy, mommy, you’re awake!” she chants.
Sofia, the slightly more conservative energy-wise of the two, appears at Ryan’s side and tugs at his arm. “Mommy, we wanna play,” she whines.
Ryan groans. He can’t freak out in front of Ryanne’s daughters, doesn’t want them to think there’s something wrong with their mom, but anxiety courses through his veins fast, even in this body. “Where’s dad? Can’t you go play with him?”
Isabella rolls her eyes. “Daddy’s got a meeting,” she complains. “And we gotta play now!”
“Alright.” Ryan rolls off the couch, and looks down at the girls. “What do you want to play?”
Sofia and Isabella take one wrist each and drag Ryan outside, where playing apparently consists of him chasing them around while they squeal with delight. He misses the familiarity of exercise in his own body, but Ryanne’s no schlep either, and he often catches up with the tiny balls of energy, scooping them from the floor as they laugh and squeal and play at squirming out of his arms so they can do it all over again.
He stops them when he sees the sun lowering in the sky. “Girls,” he calls, impressed by the way they still have enough energy to zip up next to his legs. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Ice cream!” Isabella answers immediately. Sofia claps her hands together in approval.
This is definitely a moment in which Ryan should be a responsible parent, remind his kids that it’s important to eat vegetables, but he’s only been a parent for about a week, and he’s stuck in an interdimensional vortex, so he hardly thinks he can be faulted when he replies, “Sure” to the joint cheers of the twins.
Shane and Ryanne have an impressive ice cream collection and after making expert-level ice cream sundaes (Ryan may be having a crisis, but half-assing a sundae for a three-year old seems unfairly cruel), the girls crash. The three of them end up in Shane and Ryanne’s bed, one of them on either side of his chest, fast asleep.
Now that they’re asleep, Ryan has the opportunity to take them in up close. He’s amazed by how they’re a perfect combination between him and Shane. They’ve got Ryan’s dark curly hair, Shane’s kind, sunken eyes. Even their personalities remind him of them, but better. They’re kind, funny, and strong. For all their play-fighting, he can tell that they love each other.
“You’ve done good,” Ryan says outloud to Ryanne, hoping that wherever she is, she can hear him.
Sofia stirs at the sound. “Mommy?” she asks softly.
Ryan hushes her. “Go back to sleep, mija.” Sofia obliges, her tired eyes fluttering shut once more, and this time, Ryan’s body obeys as well, and he falls asleep to their tandem breathing.
-
Ryan wakes up to the unforgiving sound of his alarm blaring in his ear.
He groggily reaches over to turn it off, and then holds his phone close to his face to be able to read it without his glasses on. To his mortificiation, he has about thirty missed calls and texts from Steven, asking where he is. Shit , the Tourist Trapped sponsorship meeting.
Ryan scrambles out of bed and throws clothes on, barely taking the time to run a comb through his hair before he’s out the door and into his car, barreling down the freeway like he has a death wish.
He’s not even sure he manages to park in an actual space when he gets to the building. He takes the stairs two at a time until he gets up to their office, and then throws the door open, startling everyone who’s gathered for the meeting he’s two minutes late for, despite best efforts.
Ryan’s aware he must look insane by the concerned looks he gets from everyone in the room. Steven, standing in front of a PowerPoint, is the one to break the hush that’s fallen over the room. “Hey Ryan,” he greets. “You doing okay?”
Ryan is decidedly not doing okay. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers. He mutters “Sorry I’m late,” and then slumps down into a seat, trying to shy away from the concerned looks of the room’s occupants.
Ryan stumbles his way through the meeting, exhausted even though he’s just woken up. He’s not even sure how it goes at the end, but he is sure that he’s headed for the comfy couch in the Breather office for the biggest nap of his life.
He’s just about to walk over to his nap when Shane grabs him by the elbow and drags him into the hallway. They’ve pressed together close like this, and Ryan feels his heart pick up in his chest looking up at Shane. He’s spent a lot of time looking at the other Shane recently, but not so much his Shane, and he feels stupid to admit that he’s surprised by how similar they look. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m fi-”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Shane cuts him off. “Tell me, for real.” He looks to either side, and then leans in closer, if possible. “Do you need help? Are you in trouble?”
Ryan can’t help the laughter that escapes him. “What the fuck?” he asks, and though it’s not that funny, he’s so tired that he’s wiping tears from his eyes. “Am I in trouble, like you’re the fucking Witness Protection Program. Yeah, you cracked it, Shane, I’m fucking a drug lord and it went poorly.”
Shane doesn’t crack a smile. It’s a little bit eerie; Ryan can’t remember the last time he laughed where Shane wasn’t laughing along. “I’m serious,” Shane says.
Ryan manages to tamper it down a bit. “I know,” he answers. “I just haven’t been sleeping right, and it’s… It’s hard to explain, man.”
Shane looks like he’s going to speak again, but before he can, Ryan adds, “I’m alright. I promise that I would tell you if things were too bad.”
Which, all things considered, is a lie, but telling Shane this would make Shane throw him in a mental hospital, for sure, but it would also make it real .
Shane sighs. “Fine.” A hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “But you promise me you’d tell me if something is wrong, right?”
“I promise,” Ryan answers as he holds up a pinky.
That gets Shane to smile. “You’re stupid,” he says, even as he hooks his pinky around Ryan’s and squeezes gently.
Shane goes off to work then, leaving Ryan alone to curl up on the couch, the door shut behind him. “Just a few minutes,” he whispers to no one in particular. “Then I’ll work my shit out.”
-
Ryan wakes up to weight on his chest.
Waking up in suburbia doesn’t freak him out nearly as bad now, and he’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. He’s apparently been awoken by the outline of Shane (now in pajama bottoms) standing in the doorway. He gives Ryan a gentle smile, speaking quietly so as not to wake the girls. “Hey,” he greets.
“Hey,” Ryan answers. He instinctively reaches down to fix Sofia’s hair, but pulls back at the last minute. “Do we have to get up for work today?”
Pajama Shane shakes his head. “It’s Saturday,” he informs Ryan. Ryan breathes a mental sigh of relief. Pretending to be Ryanne in public is exhausting.
As if a demon sent from hell to torture Ryan, Shane adds, “but I do have plans for you, so get up.”
Shane awakens the girls, dresses, and feeds them while Ryan stares at himself in the mirror, contemplating his outfit. Business casual was one thing, but he has no clue what casual casual is. Ryanne owns no basketball shorts, which comprises 90% of Ryan’s usual wardrobe.
“Hey,” says Shane (now in a pair of cargo shorts) after a suitable fashion crisis. He barely sneaks a glance at the mess of clothes strewn throughout the room, Ryan’s attempt to find a pair of basketball shorts. “I dropped the girls off with Sara so it’s just us all day.”
“Can you tell me where we’re going?” Ryan asks, trying hard to keep the whine out of his voice. “I have no idea what to wear.”
Shane snorts. “Jesus, Ryanne’s rubbing off on you and she isn’t even here.” He picks through the pile and holds up a simple dress, blue with white polka dots. “I like this one.” He tosses it over to Ryan and then leaves with a call of “Get dressed and let’s go!”
Ryan thumbs the soft fabric. He has no idea how to carry himself in the dress, but the way Shane looked at it, the thought of making Shane happy.
“God, you really are rubbing off on me, huh?” Ryan says to the air even as he pulls off his t-shirt.
Shane keeps their location a secret for as long as possible. Unfortunately, Ryan’s traveled down these roads so many times that he guesses where they’re going with many minutes remaining in their journey. “Are you taking me to Disneyland?”
Shane doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he does smile. “Jesus, you’ve been built with Disney inside your bones too, huh?” he asks. “You got a pre-built gameplan like Ryanne?”
Of course he does. “We’ll start at the back of the park, because everyone starts at the front so that’s where the lines will be longest. Then we’ll make our way from back to front. We can eat at one and then make our way back down, and then we’ll be back towards the front for the fireworks over the castle.” Shane just smiles wider, so Ryan asks, “What?”
“Nothing,” Shane answers.
Ryan’s plan is flawless, of course, and they have what Ryan would consider the perfect Disney day. He snags them the ideal firework viewing spot right by the water, and they huddle close together on a bench. Shane, probably out of some kind of habit, wraps an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, but this time Ryan doesn’t push him away. He lets the weight of the arm rest comfortably against his skin as the fireworks begin.
The sky lights up all around them, visions of red and purple and white, as the music swells. Ryan’s seen the Disneyland fireworks hundreds of times by now, and he’s still always moved. But this time, he’s not watching the fireworks.
No, this time he’s watching Shane.
The way the light illuminates Shane’s face - the contours of his skin, his sunken eyes, his goofy smile. Ryan’s mesmerized by the way the light dances across Shane’s cheekbones. As if possessed, Ryan’s hand reaches out and rests on Shane’s cheek. Shane turns to look at him, and as the light dances across his eyes, Ryan leans in and kisses him.
For a second, Shane just sits there, motionless, and Ryan thinks he’s ruined everything. Then, Shane’s kissing him back, one hand coming up to rest on Ryan’s jawline, the other on his hip. Ryan’s never kissed a man, but something about kissing Shane is electric. Though, Ryan’s coming to realize, perhaps it’s not so much a newfound sexuality thing as it is a Shane thing.
When Shane finally pulls back, his cheeks are red and his lips are swollen, his eyes blown wide. He laughs softly, and he’s the most beautiful person Ryan’s ever seen. His heart constricts in his chest.
“You wanna go home?” Shane asks, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
They barely make it home before Ryan pushes Shane against the wall, pulling him down by the collar of his stupid button down to kiss him again. Their height difference is even more pronounced like this, and when Shane curls his stupidly big hands around the dip of his hips, Ryan feels something like a jolt of electricity.
Shane picks Ryan up with the aforementioned hands under his thighs, and they somehow manage to make it to the bedroom with only minimal injury. Shane gently tosses Ryan back on the bed, and then hovers over him, kissing him again. Ryan unbuttons a few of the buttons on Shane’s shirt before he gives up and just rips the rest.
Shane pulls back and laughs. “Hey,” he complains.
“Shut up and take it off,” Ryan answers, trying to pull off Shane’s shirt and kiss him at the same time. Shane laughs again, putting some distance between them as he sits up to shrug off his shirt.
“Calm down,” Shane says. The stupidly big hands trace up Ryan’s bare legs, hike up his dress to his thighs. “We have all the time in the world.”
Ryan feels like molten lava. He’s shaking so hard he feels like he might just shake apart, and it isn’t helped when Shane pulls Ryan’s dress all the way off and tosses it aside. He unhooks the bra as well and takes one of Ryan’s nipples into his mouth, sucking in a way that turns Ryan’s brain off completely.
“Oh please,” Ryan mutters nonsensically, running his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Please.”
He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but Shane seems to get the hint. He dips his fingers into Ryan’s underwear and rubs at what must be his clit. A heat spreads throughout Ryan’s gut, and he can feel himself getting wetter. It’s an intensely weird sensation, but he can only think about Shane. “Please.”
Shane pulls back and shushes Ryan gently, places a gentle kiss above his chest. “Calm down, baby,” he says, even as he dips his fingers lower to rub at Ryan’s labia. “Let me take care of you.” He presses his finger gently against Ryan’s hole, and Ryan can feel himself subconsciously trying to pull it in. “This okay?”
“Yes,” Ryan mutters, and then Shane’s pushing his finger in. Ryan’s had things inside him (just because he thought he was straight doesn’t mean he didn’t partake in a good pegging now and then), but this feels immediately different. It’s so much more intense, and Ryan doesn’t know if it’s a female body thing or a Shane thing but he needs more right now.
“More,” he begs Shane. “More, please, more.” Shane shushes him again, and this time Ryan rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Shane, this body’s had two children, I’m pretty sure it isn’t a virgin.”
Shane laughs under his breath. “Well if you’re gonna be bossy about it,” he teases.
Shane pushes in another finger and works on stretching Ryan out with no remorse as Ryan gasps and grinds against his fingers. Shane adds a third, fucking him hard, fast, and deep. Ryan’s eyes drop to the sizable bulge in Shane’s pants, and feels himself throb as he clenches around Shane’s fingers. He has no idea what it’ll feel like, but he knows he needs Shane inside him to clench this burning desire. “Fuck me.”
Shane slows down enough for Ryan to think, but keeps his fingers inside, for which Ryan is grateful. He’s fairly certain he would die without Shane inside him. “Are you sure?” Shane asks. “Because I’m perfectly happy with making you come like this.”
As if to illustrate his point, Shane crocks his fingers inside Ryan, causing Ryan to gasp. He’s almost tempted to say yes, but he’s a man on a mission. “I’m sure,” he answers. He takes Shane’s cheeks between his hands and adds, “I want everything with you.”
Shane blushes and ducks his eyes with a fond smile. “Dork,” he says softly. He pulls his fingers out, and laughs at Ryan’s whimper. “Calm down. I have to get my pants off if you want me to fuck you.”
Ryan watches with wide eyes as Shane takes off his stupid cargo shorts, leaving him in gray boxer shorts. His cock tents them, and there’s a wet spot at the head where he’s soaked through.
Ryan feels his mouth water and takes the initiative to pull Shane’s underwear off by himself, finally unveiling Shane’s cock. Ryan doesn’t have a lot of experience with cocks besides his own, but he knows enough to know that Shane’s fucking hung.
“Damn dude,” he breathes. “Where the fuck do you hide that?”
Shane snorts. He takes in Ryan’s expression, and then retorts, “Doesn’t look like you’re complaining.”
Ryan reaches out to stroke Shane’s cock, and answers, “Definitely not.”
Shane pulls out a condom from the bedside table and rolls it down his cock. He pulls off Ryan’s panties and tosses them to the ground, and then spreads Ryan’s legs for him. Ryan feels exposed, body and soul, but he’s never trusted a person more than he trusts Shane right now.
He wants to tell Shane that, to say something instead of staring at Shane like a lovesick idiot, but then Shane presses the tip of his cock against Ryan’s hole and all the words leave Ryan’s body with a woosh. “You sure about this?” Shane asks. When Ryan just nods, Shane adds, “Gonna need you to say it, Ry.”
Ryan feels like rolling his eyes, but instead he answers a quick, “yes”, and then takes a deep breath as Shane pushes into him.
It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He feels full, complete, like Shane’s belonged inside of him his whole life and he’s just figuring it out now. It burns a little when he clenches down, but then Shane reaches down and rubs his clit. Ryan relaxes, opens up, and soon Shane’s buried deep inside him.
“Okay?” Shane asks. Ryan nods, and Shane starts to thrust into him. It isn’t the crazy fast, hard, ball-slapping sex Ryan was begging for earlier, but somehow it’s so much better.
Ryan feels like Shane’s taking him apart with every thrust, like he’s laid Ryan bare and is gonna put him together piece by piece. All Ryan can do is grab onto Shane’s arms and hold on for the ride as he gets filled over and over and over again.
“Shane,” Ryan says as something builds up inside of him. “Shane, I feel like I’m gonna pee.”
Shane laughs softly. “You’re not gonna pee, dumbass, you’re gonna come.” He rubs Ryan’s clit with just the right pressure, leans down to kiss at the skin behind his ear as he fucks him. “Come for me, baby.”
As if on command, Ryan comes. Coming as a woman is infinitely different than coming as a man. It’s less immediate, but he feels it everywhere, like he’s built up and spilling out like a wave. It feels like an orgasm that lasts forever, and he hardly registers when Shane’s face scrunches up and he comes too.
Shane pulls out when he’s done, ties off the condom and tosses it in the trashcan next to the bed. He collapses next to Ryan, and holds up his hand for a high five. “That was pretty awesome.”
Ryan laughs softly. “You’re a dork,” he whispers even as he connects their hands for a weak high five. Shane grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers, rests their combined hands next to Ryan on the bed. Ryan looks at their hands but says nothing.
“We should probably talk about it,” Shane says.
They should definitely talk about it. But Ryan’s suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion, and he can barely keep his eyes open. “Sleep now, talk later,” he mutters, and his eyes flutter shut before he can hear Shane’s reply.
-
Ryan wakes up on the couch with pride blooming in his chest.
He’s done it, he’s sure of it, he’s passed the universe’s stupid test and confronted his feelings for Shane. Now he can get on with his normal life and no one has to know. One day, this’ll be just a blip in his past; the time he took an interdimensional bisexual journey.
When Ryan steps out of the office, Shane fixes him with an indecipherable look. “You seem happier,” he remarks.
Ryan shrugs. “Incredible what a nap will do for you,” he declares.
He sits down at his desk and puts his headphones on, ignores the pull in his chest when he looks at Shane. It’s a normal feeling after sleeping with someone, he tells himself. Even after sleeping with their alternate dimension doppelganger.
Shane definitely never has to know. Ryan will get over his feelings for him, now that he knows about it. “See universe?” Ryan says to the sky on his drive home that night, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel. “My life doesn’t have to change. Fuck you.”
Still, Ryan’s almost expecting Shane to be there when he gets home. Either neither of his roommates are home or they’re blackout drunk, so Ryan orders Taco Bell by himself and eats two Cheesy Gordita Crunches on the floor of his kitchen, face twisting up at the sour taste of the Baja Blast.
“It’s stupid,” Ryan mutters to the empty bag. He’s just gotten used to Shane being there, that’s all. He’ll get over it.
Ryan turns into bed early, and tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the familiar fatigue settling into his bones. He takes one of his pillows and cuddles up to it, presses his face into the soft fabric. It smells like Downy, nothing like the familiar scent of Shane. Ryan squeezes his eyes tight to try to force the tears back into his eyes.
“I don’t miss him,” Ryan says to the darkness of the empty room.
He’s never been a great liar.
-
Ryan wakes up tucked into someone’s chest.
It’s really nice. He presses closer and takes a deep breath, catching a familiar smell. Too familiar. It’s the other Shane.
Ryan bolts up like electricity, accidentally hitting Shane on the way up, startling him. “Ry?” Shane mutters as Ryan’s heart hammers in his chest, his eyes welling up with tears.
“No!” Ryan screams a little too loudly. “No, no! It was supposed to work this time! Fuck!”
“Ryan,” Shane says softly. He sits up, pulls Ryan into a hug. It’s like breaking a dam as the tears pour from Ryan’s eyes and he sobs into Shane’s shoulder, probably staining his stupidly soft sleep shirt in the process. If Shane minds, he doesn’t say anything, just rubs Ryan’s back and whispers reassurances into his too-long hair.
“It was supposed to work this time,” Ryan says again, softer.
The tears subside slowly, and Shane pulls back to look Ryan in the face. He wipes a tear with the pad of his thumb, and gives Ryan a sad smile. “I take it you didn’t expect to come back here, huh?” he asks. Ryan shakes his head vehemently. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan answers truthfully. He reaches down to pick at a hangnail, but of course, Ryanne’s nails are perfect, not a hangnail in sight. “I thought I, you know.”
“Confronted your feelings for me?” Shane asks gently. Even in an alternate universe they can read each other’s minds, apparently.
“That,” Ryan confirms.
Shane brings one stupidly big hand to Ryan’s back and rubs gentle circles. “Did you tell other me?” he asks.
Ryan shakes his head again. “I thought everything would just go back to normal.” How stupid he had been. Obviously the universe didn’t just care about his big bisexual awakening. Maybe he’ll be trapped here forever, forced to be Shane’s wife and a mother and a fucking high school principal. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s going to destroy a life.
“Well, I’m not an expert on interdimensional travel,” Shane starts. Ryan huffs out a laugh through his nose. “But maybe you should tell me. Him. If that’s how you feel.”
Ryan turns his hand over and notices a scar on the heel of Ryanne’s hand, the same one he has from a childhood injury. He traces his thumb over it. “Guess Ryanne and I aren’t as different as I thought we were.” He curls up into Shane’s chest again. “Same dumb feelings about the same dumb guy.”
Shane chuckles. “Sucks for you.”
Ryan’s eyes flutter closed as Shane’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close, pulling him back into the undeniable lure of deep sleep.
-
Ryan wakes up in his own bed. He flips over his phone, and it flashes bright at him. 7:15am, it reads. Saturday.
Ryan sits up, rolls his head to crack his neck, crimped like he’s spent all night pressed against someone. “You wanna play, universe?” he asks his ceiling. “Let’s fucking play.”
He doesn’t bother getting dressed, just throws on a pair of sneakers and grabs his keys. He ignores Danny’s sleep-riddled call of “Ry?” as he slams the door and nearly jogs to his car.
He drives in a near daze until he reaches Shane’s apartment building. He takes the first spot he can find and then jogs up the stairs until he’s standing in front of Shane’s door. He slams his fist against it and it’s only as Shane opens the door, looking disheveled and like he just woke up, that Ryan realizes he has no idea what he’s going to say. “Ry?” Shane asks. “What-”
“I’ve been traveling through dimensions,” Ryan blurts out.
Shane blinks at him. “Do you need help?”
“I’m serious,” Ryan answers, pushing through the door into Shane’s apartment. Shane slowly closes the door behind them, and just stares at Ryan, bewildered. “Well, two universes. And there’s one where I’m a woman named Ryanne and you’re a high school history teacher who owns just way too many pairs of pants and we’re married and have twin girls. And you took me on a date to Disneyland and we kissed and then we slept together and I kind of had a bisexual awakening but I realized-”
“Ry,” Shane interrupts, and it sounds exactly like it sounded coming out of the other Shane’s mouth. He crosses the room, puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, his big, stupid eyes filled with concern. “We’ll get you help, okay? It’ll all be o-”
Ryan can’t help himself, he surges up and connects their lips in a desperate kiss. There’s a horrible moment where Shane doesn’t kiss back and Ryan thinks he ruined everything. Then, Shane’s fingers curl around his hips, and he kisses back, and it’s wonderful.
They stumble back to the bedroom kissing. They disconnect only long enough to pull Shane’s shirt and Ryan takes the opportunity to map out this Shane’s body with his hands, yearning to do it with his mouth.
Shane pushes his and Ryan’s pajama pants and underwear down, and grabs both their cocks in one stupidly big hand, strokes them off together. It feels nothing like it felt in Ryanne’s body - it’s so much better. It’s better because it’s his own body, and his own Shane, and finally his own fucking experience.
“I love you,” Ryan whispers against Shane’s lips. Shane doesn’t reply, it’s too early, but that’s okay. It’s been bursting at Ryan’s chest, and he knows it’s true. He’s been in love with Shane since the first time he laid eyes on 6’4” of gangly skeptic.
Ryan comes embarrassingly quick, but it turns out Shane’s not far behind him. Shane makes noises so beautiful that Ryan has to kiss him to swallow them down, keeping a record of them deep in his bones.
Shane collapses next to Ryan, pulls Ryan into his chest. Ryan snuggles up into him and takes a deep breath. This Shane smells a little different than the other universe, but it’s perfect.
“So about all that interdimensional travel stuff-”
Ryan shakes his head. “Forget about all that,” he answers. “Must have been a dream.”
It must have been. The memory’s getting foggier and foggier the more he thinks about it, and now that his head is clear, the universe sending him on an interdimensional bisexual awakening trip to get him to fuck his coworker sounds insane. The universe doesn’t care if two idiots hook up.
Ryan’s eyes flutter closed as Shane kisses his head. Shane mutters “I love you too” into his hairline, and Ryan’s too tired to do anything but smile back. Shane kisses his head again, so Ryan feels like he gets the message. He just woke up, but he’s worn out from his orgasm, and besides, it feels really good to be in Shane’s arms.
“We should get cleaned up,” Shane says. He attempts to sit up, but Ryan holds him down, cuddles closer into him.
“Sleep now, clean later,” Ryan reasons. Shane laughs softly, runs his hands through Ryan’s hair as he settles back down into the mattress, and his laughter carries Ryan off into sleep.
-
Ryan wakes up in his Shane’s arms, exactly where he belongs.
-
When Shane wakes up, Ryan’s not in bed with him.
It’s a strange occurrence; in the entire time this has been happening, he’s never known Ryan to wake up first. There’s movement and light in the kitchen, so Shane decides to go investigate. He walks quietly into the room, where Ryan’s standing over the stove, cooking. Shane feels his heart pick up. He can’t imagine Ryan’s a “cooking a full meal for a midnight snack” person but Ryanne-
“Ryanne?” Shane asks.
Ryanne turns, her brow furrowed and, yup, it’s definitely her, Shane would recognize that look anywhere. He huffs a sigh of relief, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as long legs carry him across the room and he scoops Ryanne into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into the mess of curls atop her head.
Ryanne laughs. “I went to the kitchen, not a three year long trip to Spain,” she remarks.
Shane doesn’t let her sarcasm deter him. “I want everything with you, all over again,” he says, aware that he sounds nonsensical. “I want to eat Taco Bell on the bedroom floor again. I want to get season passes to Disneyland and I want to follow you from ride to ride like a lost duck. I want to make you laugh so hard you cry and then I want to wipe off your tears and do it all over again.”
Ryanne laughs a little again, not mean, but like she’s caught off guard. “Okay,” she says.
When Shane tears his head away from the crook of her neck to look her in the eyes, she’s smiling, a goofy expression Shane hasn’t seen in a while. “I want all that too.”
Shane can’t explain what happened to him. It was probably a dream, something weird that he ate, maybe he’s got a fever coming on. But he knows he never wants to lose Ryanne again, and for as long as she’ll have him, he’ll love her so hard it hurts.
END