AN: Just a little something I thought of while being bored without internet. Enjoy! :) I'm not that happy with this one, but I had fun writing it.

If you were falling, then I would catch you.

There was one thing that never changed about Shane and Reed; Shane would always catch him. Unless they weren't in the same room, but otherwise, Shane would somehow always be fast enough to catch the painter before he hit the floor.

It was senior year, and Parents' Night was just a few days away. This meant that Reed and Kurt's room was a no-man zone during the day. Everyone in Windsor House knew that Reed couldn't afford any distractions while he was busy painting. Everyone, except Shane; he assumed that he got a "Free Pass" because he was Reed's boyfriend.

That being said, the dancer merrily pranced into his boyfriend's padded room and flopped on the bed. "Hello, love!" he said cheerily.

Reed didn't stop painting. "I'm busy, Shane."

"But you've been painting all day," Shane countered.

"Shane just let me paint and we'll talk later," Reed said, eyes still glued to the canvas in front of him.

The younger Anderson sighed. "Fine. Just take a break, please? You've been like this for four days already. This isn't healthy."

"Shane," Reed warned, sounding annoyed.

"Reed?" Shane answered, not giving up.

The small painter huffed in frustration, turned around, and was about to lightly smack Shane with his paintbrush.

Until he tripped over the rug.

Quickly, Shane dived down from the bed and grabbed Reed by the waist before he fell to the floor. Reed forgot that he was supposed to be angry with the dancer, and erupted into a fit of giggles.

"I told you, you need to take a break," Shane smiled.

"Shut up," Reed said as he playfully punched Shane's chest.

"Shane?" Reed called out into their apartment as he closed the door behind him. "Shane? Anyone home?" he called out again when there wasn't any response. The lights and everything were on, but where was Shane? Then, he heard it. He heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom through the open bedroom door.

He entered their room, and then knocked on the bathroom door. "Shane?"

"In the shower!" the dancer answered back over the sound of water hitting tile.

Reed laughed, leaning against the door. "I figured that much out myself, believe it or not."

He could practically hear the smile in Shane's voice. "Just give me a minute, I'll be out soon."

A couple minutes later, the sound of the running water stopped and Reed could hear Shane pulling his towel off the rack. Finally, Shane stepped out of the bathroom wearing an old dance t-shirt and sweat pants. However, he was unaware that Reed had been leaning against the door causing the painter to stumble over with a squeak. Fortunately, Shane caught him without missing a beat.

"Hey there," Shane grinned as he helped Reed regain his balance. "You alright?"

Reed's cheeks were still pink. No matter how long he and Shane had been dating, just a simple touch would cause little sparks to go through the boy's body. He just nodded, "Mhm."

As the couple aged, Reed had gotten ill and had been admitted in a hospital.

At some point, they both knew that their days together were numbered. Neither of them wanted to talk about it; mostly because Shane refused to "give up" on the whole situation. Over lunch one afternoon, Reed finally brought it up.

"I don't want to talk about this," Shane said, looking down.

"It's not a matter of wanting to talk about it, Shane," Reed answered.

"I don't want to act like we're giv– "

"We're not giving up," Reed cut his husband off. "Just listen, okay?"

Shane nodded.

Reed smiled faintly, taking Shane's hand in his and swirling patterns on his palm. "Remember that Winterfest way back when in Dalton?" he started. "And then that party the Twins had in New York with the countdown?" Shane nodded again. "I remember you held me to make sure I wasn't knocked over or grabbed by the crowd. You caught me just before you boarded the plane the next day. And you've caught me loads of times since then.

"And what I'm trying to say, I guess, is that you don't have to worry as much anymore. No matter what happens, we'll be just fine."

"How can we be just fine if you're–" Shane whispered, but again got cut off.

"We'll be fine. You'll be fine. Whatever. We'll. Be. Fine." He leaned over from the hospital bed to rest their foreheads together. While doing this, he knocked over the fork from his tray.

Shane had caught said fork.

And you take me the way I am.