Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2564855.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Walking_Dead_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Rick_Grimes/Shane_Walsh
  Character:
      Shane_Walsh, Rick_Grimes, Lori_Grimes
  Additional Tags:
      Pre-Series, High_School, Blow_Jobs, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-15 Words: 2421
****** Love Buzz ******
by gaialux
Summary
     They've been best friends for years. Shane finally figures something
     out.
Notes
     Sexual content occurs between two 16 year olds who are both
     relatively drunk. Title taken from the Nirvana song of the same name.
They've been friends since forever. Shane doesn't even remember exactly when it
starts. Definitely before school and maybe even before they could properly
string a sentence together. All Shane knows is that, by the time they start
high school, it's just a given that Rick is the one Shane turns to when
anything turns to shit.
He gets his first girlfriend at fourteen. Bridget. She shares their (Shane,
Rick, her) ninth grade Algebra class. It doesn't take much, just a few smiles
and the promise to take her out for movies and an ice-cream some time. Rick
calls him an idiot, says him and Bridget will go nowhere fast.
"Until she sucks my cock," Shane says, matter of fact.
For the flicker of a second, Rick's brows press together before he rolls his
eyes. "Yeah, Shane," he says. "Until she sucks your cock."
Shane just grins.
 
Inevitably — like most short-lived high school relationships built on a shared
class and Shane's impenetrable need to prove he can get into the pants of any
pair of boobs he winks at — the relationship crashes and burns after only a few
weeks. It still gets to him, though, more than he thought it would. Not that
it's helped along by Bridget getting together with Robert Sykes two days
after that.
"Don't worry about it, man," Rick says while they're hanging out at his place
after school. They'd been playing the latest Super Mario release, but the
controllers now sit forgotten in front of them along with the discarded
wrappers of fast food burgers and fries. "She's not worth it. Seriously."
Shane drags a hand through his hair and tries to tell the rational part of his
brain to listen to Rick. But there's still a space cut jagged from his chest
(though, years later, he'll realise it had very little to do with Bridget) that
even Rick can't fill at this particular point in time.
He just picks up his controller again. "You wanna be Mario or Luigi?"
 
At sixteen, Shane finally figures it out.
There's nothing magical about it (not that Shane expects anything of the sort;
he might be a fag, but that doesn't mean romantic comedies hold any additional
appeal), it just comes to him one day while he's studying and thinks I wonder
if Rick would actually know this. He's still a bit foggy over how that thought
transforms to I wonder what Rick would look like naked under me, only that it
does, and here they are.
Well, here they are three weeks later on the last day of the school year,
fucking around because they've both already decided higher education isn't in
their stars. At 3:10 they're up from their seats in English and, by 9, in the
yard of a classmate's house working on getting trashed off their faces.
"So much for your never drinking," Shane says as he hands Rick his fifth
(sixth? twentieth? Shane lost count a while ago) beer of the night.
"I never said that," Rick says. He's got this goofy grin plastered on his face
and eyes already staring off into the distance. He was definitely closer to
standard drink twenty than standard drink six.
"I know you did." 
Shane grins and drops down beside him on an identical plastic lawn-chair. He
almost misses the seat and knows he's far from sober himself. Only he's not far
gone enough to be any less aware of his revelations from the other week. Even
sneaking a glance at Rick brings back the same thoughts, more intense from the
alcohol if anything. Rick brings the beer bottle up to his mouth, swallows, and
Shane feels sweat beading across his forehead that's caused by more the mild
Georgia night.
"Hey, Rick—"
"Rick!" A voice cuts through the pounding music and causes Shane to jump with
how wound up he is. He glances over to see a girl, maybe a few years younger
than them, moving across the grass.
When Shane looks back over to Rick, he has a grin split across his face. "Hey
Lori." He glances at Shane. "This is Lori. You remember me telling you about
her, yeah?"
Shane swallows. Of course he does. Her and Rick had even been on a second date,
the first Rick had ever gotten. He looks at Lori. She's pretty, actually, but
with recent...revelations...Shane tries not to let himself dwell on that.
"Yeah," Shane says. "Yeah, Lori. Hi."
"I wondered if you'd be here. Eli, he's my brother." She smiles softly. "But I
guess you'd already know that."
Rick nods, takes another mouthful of the beer. It definitely makes him more
confident, talkative. "He was the one that introduced us."
"Yo, Lori."
She turns back around, brown hair flowing behind her. That smile on her face
never cracks. Neither does the one on Rick's face.
Lori throws a glance over her shoulder back at them. "I gotta go. Talk to you
later?"
The question is directed entirely to Rick, but Shane gives a tight wave anyway.
Rick gives an impossibly bigger smile and Shane feels like spitting. Instead he
downs half his beer and stares hard at the ground, watching as Lori's boots
disappear from view back across the yard.
"You like her?" Rick asks.
Shane's eyes stay stubbornly downcast. "I don't even know her."
"Come on, man." Rick punches him in a way that's likely meant to be playful,
but throbs enough for Shane to know it will leave some sort of bruise. He
doesn't care. The alcohol will get rid of the feeling soon enough.
"She's fine," Shane says. He suppresses a sigh. "Seems great, really."
Maybe he was wrong after all.
 
The beer runs out much earlier than Shane would have hoped. He considers going
out and buying more supplies, but on a Friday night nobody's gonna believe he's
even close to 21. Instead he settles on going inside grabbing two of the last
red cups (contents: unsure) left out on the dining room table. He hands one to
Rick and tries to learn about pacing his own. He fails. Dismally.
"Rick." This time he's going to do it. Apparently one additional drink is
enough to send him reeling back to the thought process. For his mind to be sure
that Rick has to know just how much Shane wants to get him naked outside of gym
class showers and changing rooms.
Except there's too many people around, too much listening. And the only thing
Shane's alcohol-addled brain can offer as a solution is to drag Rick into one
of the unoccupied rooms, shut the door, and attempt to re-gain his composure as
the outside world becomes muffled.
"What are you doing?"
Rick's voice is surprisingly clear and coherent. Shane turns to properly look
at him and he's just there. His hair a little more tousled than usual, cheeks
flushed, and that damn never-ending smile pulling up his whole face. But he's
Rick. He's always been Rick.
Shane's not sure whether the contraction in his chest comes from the sight or
from what he knows has to happen.
Rick's sitting on the sole bed in the room and Shane goes over closer until he
can reach out and touch a hand to Rick's knee. No reaction. When he drops to
his own knees and stares up at Rick, he sees a twitch of the smile for the
first time in hours. It doesn't pull down, not exactly, but combined with the
movements of Rick's eyebrows it's definitely confusion sitting there.
"Shane," he says, and the way Rick says his name now makes everything in Shane
feel heavy. "Shane, what are you doing?"
Rick's leg is warm against Shane's bare arm. He pleads with his eyes: Don't
make me say it, don't. Let me play it off if I have to. He tries to stand, to
run out that door and away, but Rick's hand grips around his wrist and holds
him tight.
"Shane," Rick repeats.
Shane breathes out hard before turning back to face Rick. He expects disgust,
anger, more of that confusion; instead he gets the soft, placid smile Rick was
sporting about six drinks ago. 
"You okay?" Rick asks. He's so quiet, but maybe it's just the still-thumping
music from the other room making it seem that way. 
For the first time maybe ever, Shane can't find words to say. He can just feel
the heat from Rick under his hands and on his wrist from where Rick continues
to keep a steady hold. God, is all he can think, over and over, God.
"You're drunk," Shane finally finds his tongue to say. He doesn't know where
this rational side comes from, only that he wouldn't forgive himself if Rick
woke up the next morning and only remembered this as some horrible, hazy
mistake.
"So are you," Rick says. His hand lowers to Shane's chin and holds his face up.
He can't even try to look away. "What'd you wanna tell me?"
A strangled laugh erupts from Shane's throat. "It isn't obvious?" He tests it
out, running his hand higher up Rick's thigh. Rick doesn't push him away. He
doesn't even move an inch. Shane's thumb rolls over the outline of Rick's cock.
He's all in now. "Can I?"
"Yeah." Rick nods. "Fuck. Yeah."
That's all the encouragement he needs, but first—
Rick's already ahead of him. He drags Shane's body back up and presses their
mouths together. It's everything Shane wanted it to be in one simple action,
not even ruined by whatever influence alcohol has had over Rick's body. He
kisses Rick deeper and feels Rick's hands slide under and up his shirt. Fingers
as hot as his mouth. Rick's hips come up and they're slotted closer together,
Shane feeling Rick's hard-on through two layers of denim.
"Easy, cowboy," Shane pulls away and murmurs.
Rick laughs and it ripples through him and across to Shane. "So am I Bridget?"
Shane had forgotten all about her in the moment and expected Rick to have done
the same. But his mouth is suddenly dry again as he shakes his head. "No. I,
uh, wanted to..."
That seems to be enough for Rick to get it. He doesn't stop Shane from moving
back down his body and rutting up his shirt to mouth at the soft skin
underneath. It's pretty similar to being with a girl at this point, but the
tenting in the front of Rick's pants tells Shane it's soon going to be anything
but.
Well, they always say it's good to try new things.
He pops the button on Rick's jeans and looks back up at him. Rick's hands lower
to move through Shane's hair, tugging lightly in unison with the snick of the
zipper as Shane pulls it down. Beyond the room the muffled music still pulses.
Under that, the thin sound of voices. Here in the room it's the sound of
rustling fabric and the jangle of a belt as Shane gets Rick's pants to around
his knees.
The tent in his boxers is impossible to ignore, though Shane's not sure why he
even thought it was possible. He'd felt his best friend's cock before, the
length and heat of it. He bites down on his lip as he pulls those down as well.
Rick's still looking at him. His eyes are soft.
"You ever done this before?" Rick asks.
"Shit," Shane says. His eyes skit between Rick's face and Rick's cock. "You
think if I had you wouldn'tve found out?"
"True," says Rick. His hands twist sharper in Shane's hair. Not enough to hurt,
but enough to get him focused again. "So you feel like trying it out?"
"Yeah," he says. All the nervousness and apprehension flees once he says that
simple word. He adds, voice stronger, "I really do."
Then it's just a matter of him leaning forward and sucking the tip of Rick's
cock into his mouth.
Rick curses and brings his hips up off the bed again, but this time Shane's
quick enough to throw his arm across and keep him steady. His eyes flicker up,
catch on Rick's, and he reads the whoops, sorry there before Rick's head falls
back down with a sigh.
It's not as difficult as he thought it might be, just a matter of reading
Rick's cues. Plus Shane thinks he might be sobering up a bit, enough that his
senses are clearer; the slightly-salty taste of Rick's cock and the smell
of him all around. Shane brings his hand to Rick's cock and attempts to use it
in synchronisation with his mouth over the length he can't reach.
"Fuck, Shane."
Hearing his name fall from Rick's lips makes heat pool low in Shane's stomach
and spurs him on further. He tries to take Rick deeper, backs off and focuses
his tongue on the head until Rick's reduced to "Shane. Shane." above him.
"Shane," he says again, and Shane's never going to get sick of that. "I'm
gonna—"
For about half a second, Shane considers pulling off. Then, instead, he draws
Rick back in further until the salty taste of come fills his mouth and Rick's
pushing him off. He trails a line of kisses back up Rick's body until they're
face to face again. Rick's got a blissed-out look spread across all his
features and Shane kisses his mouth, until Rick's got a hand down the front of
Shane's jeans and Shane has to break apart just to moan.
"Yeah," he says and grinds down onto Rick's hand. "Right there. Just..."
The orgasm hits Shane, that's the only way to describe it. Comes out of nowhere
and pulls him along for the ride. He's not aware of anything else until Rick's
carding a hand through his hair and pressing kisses to his face.
"Wow," is all he manages to get out. Except he's feeling a thousand things — he
just doesn't have the words to describe them all. His heart is pounding in his
chest and the way Rick looks at him makes Shane feel like it'll burst at any
second. This...this happened.
"Yeah," Rick says. Shane realises he was speaking out loud. "It did."
Then comes the cold was of water slamming over him. He hates to ask, but he has
to. "So, uh, what now?"
Rick's fingers are still playing with his curls. "You come home with me, sober
up, and maybe I suck your cock."
It sounds like as good an idea as any.
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