A/N: warning the song is really loud

There's a man in a three-piece suit at his door.

Cecil Tinsley had woken up to insistent knocking, a Ryan shaped emptiness in his bed.

He groaned, musing his dishevelled sandy hair and answered the door in only his cartoon boxers and one of Ryan's many t-shirts dumped on his bedroom floor.

He's been having an intense staring contest with the intimidating man for about five full minutes now.

"Uh how may I help you?"

The man continues to glower down at him despite Tinsley having an advantage in height. He grunts, looking Tinsley with blasé, trying his best to look over the detective's shoulder.

"Have you seen Goldsworth"

Tinsley feels like he's tripped over himself and prays that his unease doesn't show on his features. The strange man raises a suspicious eyebrow at him as he clears his throat.

"W-who?"

"Goldsworth? The Unsolved Killer? He was seen on this level last night"

Tinsley isn't an idiot despite all his previous admittedly stupid decisions.

He knows Ryan's a wanted man no matter how human he seems when they're together. The man's a criminal first, out in the world he's nothing but filth. He also knows by giving his heart to the criminal brought consequences, most that involved his safety, he was just in denial that they would come so soon.

The man at his door is dressed nothing like an officer, he carries an air of danger and cruelty, the same kind that surrounded Ryan the first night they met. Tinsley doesn't want to think of why he may be hunting for Ryan in the first place, he just knows he can't let the man find him.

The man is getting impatient and Tinsley does his best to feign innocence, conjuring up his memories of high school theatre club, as he pulls off his softest grin.

"I can't say I know where he is, hell I don't even know what he looks like, but it's terrifying to think he's so close"

The man gives him an unimpressed glare but leaves regardless with a huff, mumbling in his headset to someone about how no one in the building has seen their target.

Tinsley bids him an overly cheerful goodbye, slamming the door the moment the man's back is down the hallway.

He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and slides down his door, collecting his head and wonders to himself if this was all worth it.

∆

Tinsley knows he really shouldn't trust all of Ryan despite how tiring it is to be constantly suspicious of your partner.

He gives Ryan his space and tries to not be too clingy despite craving the other man's touch at the oddest moments.

He follows the rules, doesn't bring Ryan up in any conversation with his coworkers about romance, he doesn't tell his parents about Ryan either even when they pester him about his dating life. He doesn't call Ryan when he's at work despite how much he wants to hear the other man's voice. He doesn't ask too many questions despite how much he wants to tear Ryan apart and put him together, discover every single thing that makes him tick, know if he had a childhood or if he's always been this way. He wants to see how human the devil actually is

Cecil Tinsley is a detective at heart.

And Goldsworth is a criminal first.

There's so much his lonely soul craves that he knows he can't have, the feeling of their skin touching like oxygen to his lungs.

Tinsley is touch-starved and loving Ryan really takes a toll on him.

The fear of spending the rest of his life chasing something that was never supposed to be his in the first place, running after a man on the run.

The fear of being left because he's too demanding, too much work.

The insecurities harvest in him, the anxieties, the what ifs. Never leaving him alone when he's forced to spend empty nights listening to the cars outside instead of Ryan's steady heartbeat.

When they were apart, Tinsley had foolishly thought everything would be fine once he had Ryan back.

He was obviously wrong.

Sometimes he thinks of leaving, that perhaps never having met Ryan would be better than being loved by him.

How much heartache it would spare him.

But then the criminal does eventually come home and hold him close to his chest, kissing the detective's skin profusely like it sanctified the both of them, whispering desperate apologies in the nook of Tinsley's neck like a prayer.

And Cecil Tinsley would fall in love all over again.

∆

"What do you do now?"

Tinsley had asked, tone accusing, one night as they sprawled lazily on his couch, watching a reality show about house hunting.

Tinsley's heart lurched at the domestication of it all. The way Ryan's hair tousled against his chest, the way the homicidal man was ridiculously invested in the decisions of the upper-middle-class couple, the heat of Ryan against his side. That night was just them, the outside world seemingly inactive, like Tinsley's entire existence revolved around this man, and in a way, he knew it did.

But the domestication also stung, when the over looming thought of the real monster he really was brought upon Tinsley. Despite the softness of Ryan in the moment, Tinsley knew what harvested below the gentle surface, the lurking shadows in the still lake.

Sometimes it took a lot of work to separate his dear Ryan and the homicidal Ricky Goldsworth.

Sometimes it stabbed him to remember they were the same man.

And the metaphorical knife twisted in his gut when he's reminded he's enamoured with said man.

Ryan quirked a questioning eyebrow up at the taller man, tearing his attention from the couple renovating their tiny home to the nervous man staring down at him.

"It's illegal"

Tinsley audibly swallowed, anxiety burning his nerves. He wasn't surprised, per se, more nervous about the truth.

"I'm not a cop anymore, you know right? I don't care if it's illegal, I just want to make sure"

He didn't have to voice what he was unsure about, it was obvious and heavy between them.

"Since when did being a cop ever stop your dick, anyway?"

Tinsley splutters incoherently as Ryan twisted his torso until he was climbing into the taller man's lap and they were facing face to face.

Ryan cradled Tinsley's cheeks with his callused hands like he was a frightened creature, the taller man instinctively leaning into his warm touch with a sigh.

His thumb stroked Tinsley's cheekbones, fluttered Tinsley's eyelashes and brushed Tinsley's chapped lips fondly, memorising every curve and dip of the other man's face.

Tinsley obediently took the finger between his lips, his tongue and teeth graving against the rough pad of Ryan's thumb, a reminder that the other man was actually here and not a product of a fever dream fueled by longing and misery. There was a warm, living body pressed to his. Ryan was really here.

Ryan wet the dry flesh of Tinsley's lip with his damp thumb, sighing tiredly, softly lining Tinsley's jaw.

He pressed a chaste kiss on Tinsley's lips, before pulling away swiftly.

"Trust me, Cecil, never again"

He doesn't have to clarify himself either, they both know what he's implying.

This was so similar to the last conversation they had before they separated, shaking Tinsley into a mess of regret.

Tinsley was afraid of breathing, afraid of shattering the intimacy between them, made of fragile glass and thin as his veins.

Tinsley's eyes burned as he stared directly into the sun, the soft intensity of Ryan's russet eyes both incapable of hurting another living being and tearing Tinsley into shreds at the same time. His eyes were pleading, conveying layers of all his remorse and the words that suffocated in his throat.

Ryan was asking of him the bare minimum and yet it was something so difficult to do.

Tinsley knew he was being distracted from the answer and he allowed it, leaning in to capture Ryan's lips in a searing kiss.

But the question still haunts his conscious.