Me 2:45 PM: Forgot to mention but… bring the kneepads to the Ghost Office tonight. You know, in case we want to take any breaks from working 😏

Companion Plant 🍃 2:47 PM: You absolutely must realize that I didn’t bring them with me to City Hall. Little demon.

Companion Plant 🍃 2:47 PM: Technically they’re called shin guards, btw.

Me 2:47 PM: You better have them or I’m not picking you up

Companion Plant 🍃 2:48 PM: So you’re going to make the glasses work all by yourself?

Me 2:48 PM: Maybe I will!!

Companion Plant 🍃 2:48 PM: I have a few extra things to help Gabby with tonight, so if you want to come in and hang out by her office, I’ll be there when I’m done.

Me 2:49 PM: kk 💕

Companion Plant 🍃 2:50 PM: Oh, so I can get a ride, after all?

Me 2:50 PM: Yes, despite your tragic lack of foresight. Good thing I like you so much

Companion Plant 🍃 2:50 PM: Truly, I’m a lucky one.

Me 2:51 PM: 😊

Me 2:51 PM: Stupid

Companion Plant 🍃 2:51 PM: Dumbass.

Companion Plant 🍃 2:51 PM: See you soon.❤️

~~~~

City Hall is busy today, but the waiting area outside of Gabby’s office is quiet. I open the door to find only one person in there, someone with a green streak in his ash-blonde curls. I pause in the doorway, a little unsure. I’ve texted Ripley once or twice since giving him Aiden’s phone number, trying to start a conversation with him. Gabby said that he’d like some guy friends, and I always love making a new friend, so I thought I’d make an effort. After a few rounds of one-word answers, I sort of gave up.

Ripley has his headphones in, and it's apparent that he hasn't noticed me. There’s a book open in front of him. He’s scribbling something on its pages with a sleek black pencil. Concerned about startling him, I close the door with a little extra force, so he can hear it through whatever he’s listening to.

Ripley glances up, looks back down at his book, and then does a double-take. He shuts the book at once and gets to his feet, pulling his headphones out.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Oh, you’re totally fine.”

“Didn’t hear you.”

“No, you’re all good, man! Seriously. I’m just here to wait for Aiden.”

“He and Gabby are wrapping up."

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” I tell him, nodding at the book.

“No, I-” He scoops up the book and holds it like I might snatch it away from him. “You can wait in here.”

“Cool.” I hesitate again, not sure if I should go take one of the waiting chairs against the wall, or what. Ripley is behind a little desk by Gabby’s door, and there’s a chair in front of it. It feels weird for me to go sit in one of those other seats.

I claim the chair in front of his desk, and Ripley fidgets for a moment, then sits back down. There’s a brief silence, populated only by the quiet drone of C-SPAN playing on the TV in the corner. Ripley stuffs his AirPods back into their case and closes it up. I half thought he might put them back in his ears and go back to whatever he was doing.

“So, how do you like working at City Hall?” I ask, just to say something. Ripley shrugs.

“It’s fine.”

“Settling in alright?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a pretty building, don’t you think?”

“Yep.”

Oh, god. This is pretty much how it went when I texted him, too. I scan back through my brain, trying to think if I’ve inadvertently insulted or annoyed Ripley at some point. I know, I know, Gabby said that he’s shy, but this is almost painful. Is he like this with Aiden? I’ll have to remember to ask.

Either way, this conversational ship is rapidly taking on water, and I can’t handle the awkwardness. I cast about hopelessly for something to say, and my eyes land on the book in his hands.

“Were you drawing something?” I ask. Ripley shrugs again. “Can I see it?”

“Um…” He looks down at the book as if he suddenly doesn’t remember what it is.

“Oh, nevermind,” I follow up at once. “You totally don’t have to-”

Ripley slides the book across the desk, not looking at me. I pause, surprised, then pick it up. It’s actually a sketchpad, as it turns out. There are thin sheets of fine paper separating each page from its neighbors. A quick flip-through reveals that about half of the pages are used up, so I thumb to the most recent one, the one I assume Ripley was just working on.

I stare down at the paper, a little stunned.

“You drew this?” I ask, glancing up at Ripley. He’s looking past me, but his eyes flick to my face, and he nods. I look back to the sketch. Made out in charcoal, it’s a side view of a tall, broad figure, leaning over a desk, a few strands of hair falling forward. I recognize this person easily, even before noticing the little detail of the white pair of gloves.

It’s Aiden.

“This - wow.” I look up at Ripley again. “This is so good, dude.”

And I’m not kidding. I don’t know too much about art, yet there’s something about it; it’s just lines and shading, all in black and white, but it almost breathes, as if the figure might turn and smile at me. I feel like I can see Aiden right before my eyes, busy at work, not noticing that someone was memorizing what he was doing to put down on paper later.

I want to stare at it forever, but I flip back a page. This drawing is a closer view: a face and shoulders. It's Gabby. The details in this one are far more elaborate than in Aiden’s sketch. Each individual eyelash treated with care, and a shadow falling across her neck. Ripley has filled the background in entirely with intricate flowers.

I flip back one more page and stop again. This one clearly isn’t finished. It’s another portrait of a face, this time in profile. The eyes and nose are there in shape, but not detailed yet. It doesn’t matter. The way everything is laid out, the shape of the nose, the curve of the cheekbones, the hair he’s only just started working on - it’s me.

Ripley has even started sketching out the collar of my flannel. My lips are filled in, curved up into a friendly, open smile.

“Oh,” is all I can manage. I flip further back in the book and find every previous page filled, some with what look like figure studies, others clearly portraits of real people.

Ripley must have hit some sort of ceiling on how much he’s willing to share with me, because when I look up again, he’s holding out a hand, waiting for me to put the sketchbook into it. I oblige at once, even though I want to go back to the most recent pages, look again at the sketch of Aiden, and the one of me.

“Damn, Ripley.” I lean back in my seat, looking at him with fresh eyes. “You’re really talented.”

His cheeks color, and he drops his gaze back to the desk.

“Thanks.”

“How long have you-?”

He shifts abruptly and gets to his feet.

“Think I’ll run and get something to eat,” he says stiffly.

“Oh, okay.”

He grabs the lanyard with the City Hall name badge, slips it around his neck, and disappears from the waiting area. The door shuts with a snap behind him, and then opens again immediately. He leans back into the room.

“Sorry - bye!” he says, and closes the door before I can answer.

He left the sketchbook on the desk, and I’m tempted to take another look through it, but I don’t think Ripley wants me to, so. I pull my phone out of my pocket, check and see if there’s anything new.

Raj 🔨 5:36 PM: Hey man, I really have to thank you. So glad that you hooked me up with Noah, he’s been a huge help. We got all the power on the first floor working yesterday - can’t fucking figure out why upstairs won’t turn on yet, but this is huge progress and only paying for the parts has really helped

Me 5:36 PM: Oh, wow! That’s great! So I guess if he’ll be done fixing everything up soon, he’ll be moving out, right? Did he find a new place to stay?

Raj 🔨 5:37 PM: I actually told him to stay at the house for a little longer! I’m replacing some of the paneling, which exposes the live wires running inside the wall, so it’s good to have him around. Don’t want to get shocked!! Also no lie bro it’s just kinda nice having someone else there while I’m working on the house, it was sort of boring doing it alone

The door to Gabby's office opens, and I get up from my chair. Aiden and Gabby step into the waiting area.

“Hey,” Aiden says brightly, his blue-eyed smile sending happy ripples through me, as it always does.

“Hey, you two. All City Hall business wrapped up? Can I steal Aiden?”

“Where did Ripley go?” Gabby asks, noticing his empty desk.

“Off to get some food, I think?”

Gabby frowns at her watch.

“Pretty late for a lunch break! If you see him, can you send him back? He’s basically done for the day, but I have a few things I want to go over with him.”

“Sure, of course.”

Gabby pinches my cheek, then turns to Aiden.

“Make sure everything gets filed,” she says. “Oh, and did you guys resolve that issue with your project?”

“We’re going to work on it right now,” I answer, and she nods.

“Well, just stay focused and on task, and I’m sure you two will figure it out.”

“Focused and on task,” I tell Aiden, after Gabby disappears back into her office. “We can do that, right?”

~~~~

It’s a good thing that the fire didn’t cause structural damage to the Ghost Office. I have Aiden all the way up against the wall, his back pressed to the scorched wood. He really must be getting better at this whole controlling his magic while we fool around thing, because I’ve had my hand down the front of his boxers for a few delightful minutes now. He’s held it together long enough for me to find a pace he likes - or at least, he seems to like it, based on his facial expression.

His bottom lip pinned. Eyebrows drawn up, eyes closed, cheeks darkened by a rising blush. It’s an expression that could read like pain, but I know what it really is, and I’m obsessed with it. As I watch, he breathes out a heavy exhale and releases his lip. Now his mouth is half-open, and smiling. My heart skips two or three beats. He tips his head back, leans it against the wall, and lets out a soft groan.

I’m becoming hyperaware of Aiden’s body, making worshipful study of what I can do to him without burning down someone’s house. I’ve found that he loses control more quickly when things are wild and fast, so I’m opting for a slow, thorough approach, trying to keep myself focused through the haze. Happy sounds meet my ears: the pattering of the rain on the roof, the soft click of his undone belt buckle, shifting with my movements. His heightened breathing.

We’ve never gotten quite this far before.

“You,” I purr into his neck, “Are doing so good right now.”

He whimpers and drops his forehead to rest on my shoulder. I push my free hand into his hair. “So good,” I whisper. “So, so-”

“No more talking,” he stammers, tripping over his own breath. “It makes it harder, when you say stuff like that.”

“Yes, I can feel that,” I answer, grinning.

“You - little - demon - you know exactly what I mean - Jamie,” he gasps, “Wait, wait wait wait-”

I ease up immediately, but it’s too late. The sound of breaking glass echoes through the Ghost Office. Where there were five jars on the workbench, there are now only three. A small shower of glittering debris tumbles from the bench and onto the ground.

“Goddamnit!” Aiden almost shouts, dropping his head back as if to argue with some unjust god. “Can’t we just once get to finish what we’re doing? This is driving me fucking crazy.”

“We can stop,” I offer. “If it’s too much, we don’t have to keep-”

“Nope. No.” Aiden drops his gaze to me, bends forward, and drifts his warm lips over mine. “That is not a solution I’m down for.”

“Fair enough,” I answer, smiling into his mouth, secretly relieved.

“In fact, I was going to say that I should wear my work clothes to the Ghost Office more often, now that I know this is the kind of reception I’ll get.”

Mmm, yes. His dress shirt is all crumpled up in places where I had handfuls of it, a few buttons undone at the throat. I actually think that the outfit as a whole looks better this way, but I’m biased.

I reluctantly withdraw my hand, and Aiden struggles to close up his pants.

“What am I supposed to do with myself now?” he mutters. “Somehow get back to work? After that?”

“Oh, right. Work. Yeah, that’s - that’s what we were supposed to be doing.” I turn and head over to the workbench, trying to pretend that I’m all calm and cool and casual and totally fine, totally pulled together, totally. “Looks like this time we broke... two.”

I stop, my attention caught on the jars. Something has just occurred to me.

“Hey, come take a look at this, dude.”

Aiden moves up behind me and peers over my shoulder, stuffing his shirt back into his pants.

“What?”

“Did you notice that the jars closest to us broke completely, the one in the middle only cracked, and the farthest ones are intact?”

“No, that’s not exactly what I was focused on,” he murmurs, nipping my ear. I want to turn around and respond in kind, but something about this situation with the jars is grabbing at me, right now.

“That’s… now that I think about it, that’s how it goes every time we make out, isn’t it? The ones closest to us break first.”

Aiden’s eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“I… guess? Yeah. You’re right.” He picks up the jar that cracked but didn’t explode. “Maybe the nearest ones absorb some of the energy, when they break? Prevent the ones farther away from breaking as quickly?”

An idea is forming in my brain, a half-there, infant of an idea, but the more I think about it…

“Oh my god, Aiden! Gabby was right. As always. The answer was right in front of us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think I have a plan. It’s going to take all night, though…”

“Well, our deadline is tomorrow.” Aiden shrugs. “I’ll try anything.”

“You’re going to say that it’s ridiculous.”

“Name one plan of ours that wasn’t totally ridiculous. We’ve made it this far.”

I fall silent, the plan coming together in my head, little pieces fitting into one whole. Aiden waits, blue eyes watching my face.

“Okay,” I say finally. “I think I know what to do. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Aiden asks, as I turn to grab my car keys.

“To stock up!”

“On what?”

~~~~

Earlier today, the various homeowners of Ketterbridge stepped outside with their recycling bins, placing them on the curb for an early-morning pickup. Ketterbridge Trash & Recycling uses simple green boxes, not bins. Raindrops gather on the exposed bottles and jars as people turn out their lights and head for bed.

They’ll go on sleeping, none the wiser to the tiny blue car parked on their street. They have no idea that their bins are being raided; they’ve probably already forgotten what’s in them. Tomorrow, they’ll wake up and assume that everything was hauled away as it normally is. They won’t know that their recycling was, in fact, collected by two ghost hunters, hours before the trash collectors even woke up for the day. Only Aiden and I know about that.

It’s a weird thing for us to do, but I figure we’re not harming anyone, and it’s for a good cause. We’re building something big.

Something that just might help us catch a ghost.