A/N: Oh, wow. I can't believe I'm actually posting this xD For those who haven't read the original News Worthy, don't worry, for you can still enjoy this fic without reading the other one. This is a story set in an alternate universe; Ramirez, Roach and Frost are workers for the local newspaper, The Hereford Times.

WARNING: This is a SLASH fic, meaning boy/boy romance. No likey, no readey.

This fic features multiple couples.

Oh, and this takes place during the original events of News Worthy, so there are similar scenes only with different characters. That's all for now. Enjoy~

"Ramirez! Get your ass over to that vending machine and get me some coffee!"

His anger rose at the authoritative voice and he felt the urge to scream back, but Ramirez suppressed his bubbling anger into a heavy, exasperated sigh. "Yes, sir," he mumbled submissively.

He looked at Roach, his friend whom he was talking to prior to the interruption. He patted Sanderson on the shoulder as they both rose from their seats. "I'll see you soon, bro."

Roach flashed him a smile, and they parted ways. Roach headed out the exit, whereas Ramirez went to the vending machine. He took a cup and pressed a button, watching as the coffee slowly filled the cup's volume, a creamy aroma filling his nostrils. He scrunched his nose at the smell and closed the cup with a lid before walking over to his superior's desk.

"Here you go, sir." Ramirez murmured, keeping his voice low.

Foley hummed in acknowledgement, eyes glued to the screen. He didn't even glance at Ramirez or murmur a 'thank you' as he was too engrossed in the article he was editing. Noticing his ignorance, Ramirez rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk.

On his way there, Frost entered the headquarters through the glass doors and immediately uttered a greeting upon seeing his friend. Ramirez mumbled the greeting back, the irritation from earlier not faded yet.

It did not pass Frost's notice that his friend was annoyed. He didn't want to ask, for he knew it was due to Foley's attitude toward Ramirez, so he remained silent about the subject as to not rile him further. Frost said automatically. "I got some photos for the café article. I'll be transferring them to you soon."

"Roger that," Ramirez nodded, straightening up in his chair and opening the program he used to edit the articles.

Frost frowned at the stiffness of the editor's voice. He wished he knew how to cheer Ramirez up, but his friend was a hard man to read.

A day passed. It was nightfall on another casual Wednesday. As dark blue conquered the sky above him, Ramirez walked down the fairly clear streets of Hereford on his usual way home. He followed the pavement, guided by the lamp posts and familiar illumination from cafes and outlets open after darkness fell.

He wasn't fully concentrated on where he was going, not that he needed to anyway, since he used the said path almost everyday. Because of that, his feet automatically walked as he flipped through a few photos in his hands.

It was a quarter past seven at that point. Though Ramirez was supposed to leave the headquarters almost two hours earlier, he couldn't help but stay to finish off a few articles before heading home. Now that MacMillan announced the second week of spring as the week's biggest issue, he had a whole new weight on his shoulders.

The pictures in his hands were shot by Roach and then transferred to him for the article. Ramirez decided to print them out and study them, so he could plan out which pictures to include and what to write about them. Being an editor wasn't easy, especially since he has a pain-in-the-ass superior delegating every little task onto his shoulders.

"Hmm…this one with the ladybug looks nice," Ramirez murmured to himself, smiling a bit. He stopped underneath a street light in front of a café with tables outdoors, and a few girls were seated around one of them. As he held the photo upwards for better lighting, he heard them whispering his name.

Ramirez was just one of the six men on 'The List', which was an unofficial record of the most charming men residing in Hereford, according to the women there. He honestly found nothing charming about himself, but hey, if the women thought he was good-looking, there was nothing he could do about it. The girls in Hereford are gossiping machines and are always up-to-date. In fact, sometimes issues spread faster than the newspaper can publish thanks to them.

"I like Ramirez," he heard one say. "He's quiet and polite. It's rather cute, isn't it, that he has quite a shy personality?"

He continued to examine the picture, though his mind was occupied with several unrelated thoughts. A lot of girls have approached him, but he never accepted their flirts or invitations for dates. There are many reasons, the main one being he was already taken by heart.

"Yo, Ramirez!"

He nearly jumped at the friendly, confident voice which greeted him. Turning in the direction of the voice, he found Jake Dunn walking towards him. He eyed his former co-worker, who was also his current crush, from head to toe. Dunn looked as though he was heading out somewhere; well-dressed, hair combed back, face clean-shaven and looking fresh. He even caught a whiff of his nice-smelling perfume.

Ramirez was surprised. He hadn't seen Dunn for quite a while.

"You look good," Ramirez voiced the first thought that popped up in his head. He instantly regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

"Don't I always?" Dunn chuckled. Ramirez wanted to smile and tell him it was true, but said nothing as Dunn took his turn to scan his appearance. "Well, you still look like the same old Ramirez."

Ramirez chuckled slightly. He never really cared about the clothes he wore or the supplies he used. As long as he looked okay in general, it was fine by him. A voice in his head constantly nagged that Dunn never noticed him due to his habit of being effortless concerning appearance.

With a small smile, he admitted, "Yeah…well, I don't really work on how I look."

Dunn arched an eyebrow and smirked. "I only said that you look like the same old Ramirez, not that you look bad. Actually, you look good without trying. You always have."

The compliment came as a pleasant surprise to Ramirez, who felt the blood rushing to his cheeks after the remark. Dunn must have noticed his blush, for he laughed slightly.

"Are you going somewhere?" Ramirez asked, his eyes returning to the pictures so it wouldn't look as though he actually cared.

"I'm going out to dinner with some people," Dunn replied.

The answer stung Ramirez. It hurt him to know his crush was off seeing other persons, but he knew he should have expected it, since he never confessed to Dunn about his feelings in the first place. He never had the guts to do so.

"You want to join me, Ramirez?" Dunn asked, "I don't think they'd mind having another person."

Ramirez was taken aback by the invitation, but was uncomfortable with the idea. The last thing he wanted was to tag along, spend his money, waste his time and ultimately end up watching Dunn flirt with somebody else.

"Thanks, but I'm busy," Ramirez flashed him a weak smile, holding up the pictures. "I'm helping Foley with a big issue. The, uh, second week of spring, you see."

"Oh? Can I see the photos?" Dunn asked, and Ramirez gave him the small stack in his hands. His hand made contact with Dunn's, the warmth from his skin sending a tingle down his spine.

"Roach took those," Ramirez murmured as Dunn went through them. He was obviously impressed, for he whistled and smiled at some pictures.

Ramirez felt a pang of jealousy for Roach, though he knew it was inappropriate to feel like that. Confidence was not the only trait that Ramirez felt he lacked—it was talent. Impressing Jake Dunn with his 'skills' was something he was never capable of doing.

Dunn handed the stack back after a few moments. Again, their skin brushed, and this time Ramirez realized how soft Dunn's hands were.

"Are you sure you don't want to follow?" Dunn frowned.

'I want to have dinner with you more than anything else in the world, but not when other love interests are around…' Ramirez thought, biting the insides of his cheeks. He knew he was just being a jealous bastard without any concrete evidence. For all he knew, Dunn could be having dinner with friends.

Despite that, he nodded and said softly. "Y-Yeah, I'm sure. Maybe some other time, dude. I'm really busy."

"A-Alright…" Dunn murmured, and Ramirez began to walk away. Dunn was a bit startled by the other's sudden initiation of departure, but he called out, "Call me when you're free, bro!"

Ramirez bit his lip, disappointed with himself for failing to have the courage when he needed it, once again. Frustrated with his lack of confidence, he didn't reply, and continued down the streets in silence.

Frost and Roach approached Ramirez's desk on Saturday evening. The two photographers have completed their assignments for the day and decided to go see what their editor friend was up to. Apparently, he was working on the big issue.

"How long is this second week of spring thing gonna be?" Roach asked, leaning against the side of Ramirez's table. Frost just stopped behind his chair and looked at the screen.

"Uh... it'll take up to six pages at the very least…" Ramirez murmured, almost automatically.

Frost glanced up at the clock and his face brightened. "It's already five o'clock, guys. Are you free for a few hours? I know a place for us to kill some time."

Roach nodded, and looked down at Ramirez. He was so intent on what he was doing, it didn't appear as though he heard Frost. Roach put a hand on his shoulder. "Ramirez, stop. It's time to leave this godforsaken office."

"Oh," Ramirez threw a quick glance to the time on his computer. Then, he continued tapping on the keyboard. "You guys go ahead; I'm staying back for an extra hour. Just a little bit more work on this article and I'll be done."

Roach and Frost exchanged doubtful glances. It worried them that Ramirez was doing unnecessary hours without getting paid or acknowledged.

"Oh, no—we aren't going to leave you here," Roach's lips parted into a small grin. "I hope you've saved your progress so far, mate."

Ramirez said subconsciously. "I save my work every five minutes."

"Perfect," Frost snickered, and then bent down and pulled on a plug.

Ramirez stopped and blinked, dumbfounded, when the screen turned black. He looked at his two best friends in confusion, and then finally got the idea of what happened. "Dude, I was working!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

Roach pulled him out of the chair and threw his arm around his shoulders, smiling. "Well, stop being a bloody workaholic and kill a few hours with us. Frost knows a fun place."

Ramirez groaned and rolled his eyes as his two friends forced him through the doors, down the stairs and onto the street. He walked between them as they continued down the road, the soft breeze and cloudy day signifying a beautiful evening.

"Where are we going?" Ramirez asked.

Roach shrugged and they both look at Frost. The blonde smiled. "We're going to the gun store."

"What the hell? Why?" Roach widened his eyes.

If Ramirez hadn't been next to him, he wouldn't have realized the blush creeping up to Frost's cheeks. "You know that they offer shooting classes, right?" he said, "They're complete with a shooting range and all that shooting equipment. I heard you have to pay for the classes, but…uh, you guys remember Sandman?"

"The older dude who obviously wants to jump your bones?" Ramirez arched a brow.

Roach laughed at his blunt remark, whereas Frost sputtered a few incoherent words in his embarrassment. However, Frost rolled his eyes and waved the remark aside.

"Anyway, he works as one of the shooting instructors there," Frost told them. "He offered us the shooting range for an hour, free of charge—uh, as a belated present for my birthday last week."

Ramirez was silent for a while, rather fond of the idea. The three always shared an interest in the military, and through different ways, have all fired a gun before. To be able to shoot bullets at a shooting range sounded exciting.

"That's the best birthday present a person like you can ever get," Ramirez flashed him a lopsided smirk. "Well, the best if you exclude buying a super-cool combat knife or an ACR to hang on the living room wall. Right, Roach?"

Both of them turned to look at Roach. His eyes were looking elsewhere and he seemed in deep thought, as though thinking of somebody.

Frost chuckled. "I don't know why, but he's been really disconnected for the past two days. I wonder what happened on Wednesday that got him like this—I mean, it was only after the park assignment that he always spaced out."

"Somebody must be on his mind," Ramirez smiled. "Let's not take him out of his reverie."

Suddenly, Roach sighed. "Ghost…"

Ramirez and Frost turned to look at each other, bewildered expressions on their faces, before sharing some laughter. At that moment, Roach's phone beeped and they stopped as he took the device from his pocket. He took a few moments, as though reading a message.

"What day is today?" Ramirez asked Frost.

"Saturday," he replied, "It's probably Yuri and Nikolai, eh, Roach?"

"Yeah, it is," Roach nodded. Then, he smiled apologetically. "I promised them some bowling tonight. I gotta go...so—uh, you guys go on."

"Alright, bro," Frost shrugged as Roach walked away. They waved goodbye, and he and Ramirez continued down the direction of the gun store.

"By the way, when did Dunn quit his job again?" Frost inquired.

Ramirez frowned. Dunn quitting his job as an editor for The Hereford Times was not his fondest memory. He remembered how Dunn stormed out the headquarters, fuming with anger as he lost patience with Foley and co-workers who couldn't stand his complaining. Ramirez was the only one who didn't mind—instead, he'd rather listen to Dunn as much as possible, only because he liked the sounds of his voice.

Ramirez recalled how he felt later that night, after Dunn quit, when he returned home—how broken and depressed he was when he thought his co-worker, friend and crush was lost.

"It's been two weeks," he answered coldly. Ramirez hadn't seen or heard from Dunn during that period. That was, until two days ago, on Wednesday night.

"Do you know which job he took up after he quit?" Frost asked next, though the tone in his voice suggested it wasn't actually a question.

"No," Ramirez replied tersely.

"You're in luck, then," Frost grinned. "Turns out he took up a job as a shooting instructor."

Ramirez looked at his best friend, eyes widened and tone in disbelief. "What?"

"Yep, you heard me," The blonde winked. "Dunn will be at the gun store. He and Sandman are shooting instructors, teaching classes in the store belonging to a guy called Price, I think."

Ramirez reconsidered turning around and going home. "Oh…dude, I—"

"Ramirez, don't think I haven't noticed how stolid and irritable you've gotten after Dunn left," Frost reprimanded. "If being around Dunn will make you happy, then I'm gonna make you two happen. Make it count, alright?"

Ramirez opened his mouth to say something in protest, but then Frost added, "Invite him to dinner, or to play some pool, or something."

"Call me when you're free, bro!" Dunn's voice from a couple of nights ago flashed back in his mind.

"Alright, we're here," Frost stopped and pushed a door open. They entered, only to find themselves standing in artillery heaven, with weapons of different kinds stacked up on the walls and in the cases.

"You two yanks look too young to have a permit to own guns, so what are you doing here?"

They redirected their attention to a man standing behind the counter. He had a boonie hat on his head and a stern, steely gaze in his eyes.

"Friends of Sandman," Frost said with a nervous smile. "You must be Price."

"Oh," Price's stern gaze softened into a neutral one, and then he gestured the entrance to a small passageway. "Follow the path and you should arrive at the shooting range. My two instructors are almost done with a class."

After uttering thanks, the two Americans headed in the said direction and found themselves walking down an alley. Before long, they came across another door; this led to the section for target practise. Sandman and Dunn were there, watching and mentoring about five civilians as they shot down the targets popping up one by one.

Frost and Ramirez waited for a few minutes before the class was dismissed. As the students filed out the door, they received different reactions from the two shooting instructors. Sandman greeted them with a warm smile, whereas Dunn arched a brow at them. Ramirez could feel the sweat break out on his neck as his former co-worker's eyes scrutinized him.

"Hey," Frost grinned. After nodding to Dunn as a sign of acknowledgement, he patted Ramirez's shoulder and turned to Sandman. "Sandman, this is my co-worker and best friend—"

"Ramirez," Dunn suddenly interrupted. His arms were folded and he looked at Sandman with a small smirk. "James Ramirez. He's a junior editor at The Hereford Times."

Ramirez gulped. He wasn't sure whether to feel excited or disturbed by the way his name rolled off Dunn's tongue. Or by the way his face had such a smug smirk.

"Your best friend?" Sandman repeated, pretending to be offended. "And here I was thinking I was your best friend."

"Oh, you're much more than that," Ramirez managed to say, before getting elbowed in the ribs by Frost.

"So, I see that we all know each other," Sandman's friendly smile turned into an amused one as he looked from Ramirez to Dunn. However, instead of lingering on the 'coincidence', he rubbed his hands together and said, "Alright, you two can go ahead, pick up a pistol and go to one of the stalls. Once you're ready, either one of us will pop the targets up one by one. The other will supervise you."

"Give us some time to warm up," Frost smirked. "It's been awhile since Ramirez and I fired a gun, so we may be sloppy at first."

"If you have trouble, just ask us," Sandman offered, nodding towards the table where the firearms were waiting. As the two younger men walked towards the said table, he added, "Oh, and don't mess around. You have no idea how much extra work I promised Price in exchange for this."

"Speaking of your boss, he sounds like a tough guy to impress," Frost comments as he picks up the pistol. A small smirk crosses his face as the familiar and long-missed feeling of a gun in his hands returns to his sensation.

The pistol had a similar effect on Ramirez. Instantly, the discomfort and weariness of knowing Dunn was there washed away as soon as he had the gun in his hands, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his lips.

"He is, which is why he's still single," Sandman chuckled. "He must be too harsh on anybody who tries to get close to him."

"Careful, Sandman," Dunn smirked, grabbing the safety equipment essential for the learning shooters at one corner of the room. "Price might just hear you. That man has ears everywhere."

He walked across the room to the stalls facing the targets, where Frost and Ramirez were waiting. He gave the safety glasses and foam earplugs to Frost casually enough, but hesitated in giving them to Ramirez, especially because the younger man averted eye contact.

Ramirez's heart pounded against his ribs as Dunn stood in front of him, and he extended an arm, expecting the safety equipment to be put in his hands straight-away. However, his eyes were kept downcast, unwilling to meet with his crush's gaze. He saw Dunn's feet as he stood opposite him, but, after a few moments, his hand remained empty.

Confused, he braved himself to look up. Dunn had the eqiupment in his hands, an inquiring glint in his steel blue eyes and lips curved into an unsure frown.

Ramirez hated these kinds of situatuions—where his crush is directly in front of him and there's nothing he can use to distract himself. He was usually a nervous wreck when that happened.

Unwilling to say anything, Ramirez reached out and took the glasses and earplugs himself. He turned around, away from Dunn and to the targets, as he put them on.

Frost watched with a slight frown as Ramirez dismissed Dunn. He could tell the editor was just anxious.

Sandman walked up some steps towards what looked like a control panel. "I'll pop the targets. Dunn, you supervise them."

"Roger that," Dunn nodded, taking a few steps back, a bit between Frost and Ramirez.

Ramirez was uncomfortable to know Dunnw as supervising them. Especially since he was standing behind them, he felt rather naked to know every move he made was being watched.

Suddenly, as the first target pops, all current thoughts faded away as the two younger men focused completely. Both raised their weapons, aimed and pulled the trigger. Surprisingly, they were still accurate despite having not fired a gun for a while, though the occasions where they missed were rare.

Ramirez was doing fine the first five minutes, until he realized Frost was constantly glancing at him. The boards which divide the stalls were made of transparent, plastic planks, so they could see each other by looking to their sides. Lowering his gun, Ramirez arched an inquiring brow as he met with the blonde's gaze.

Frost's mouth moved, but no voice came out. Still, Ramirez was able to make out the words. 'He's staring at your ass.'

It took a few moments for the significance of the sentence to sink into his brain, but when it finally did, his brown eyes widened. He stared at Frost in disbelief, who simply shrugged and gestured for him to look over his shoulder and see for himself.

Still doubtful, Ramirez turned slightly to look behind him. Dunn was behind them, supposedly supervising how the shooting was going, but his eyes were directed to…well, true enough, his ass. The expression on Dunn's face could be described as pleased—with a small smirk on his lips and approving glimmer in his eyes, it's quite obvious he was enjoying himself.

Realization setting in, Ramirez turned back to his targets and tried to ignore the thought of Dunn checking him out. Unbeknowst to him, a light pink blush crept up to his cheeks as he raised his gun to fire at his target.

Frost noticed how Ramirez seemed unsettled after finding out where Dunn was looking, and watched with amusement as he pulled the trigger and missed his target. He fired again—two, three, four—all the same, the bullets whizzed past the plastic obstacles. Frost chuckled silently as Ramirez mumbled a curse and reloaded. Apparently, his mind was too occupied by Dunn until he couldn't concentrate on his shooting.

Ramirez was about to raise his gun again, but froze when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. He remained still as Dunn stood next to him, an entertained smile on his face as he looked at Ramirez with an arched brow.

"What's wrong, Ramirez?" he asked, his smooth voice sending the usual goosebumps over the other's skin. "You've been getting careless with the past few shots."

"Y-Yeah, sorry," Ramirez mumbled, lowering the gun and scratching the back of his neck. His eyes remained on the targets as his pulse began to race.

"Come on, hitting that target is easy," Dunn started, chuckling. He lifted Ramirez's arm, the one which was holding the gun, whereas his other hand lingered down to his hip. As the other began to blush madly, Dunn continued, his eyes on the target. "Stand straight, legs wide for a stable stance…"

If Ramirez didn't know any better, he would have accused Dunn's voice of having a trace of smugness in it. As though he knew Ramirez was embarrassed and enjoyed seeing him so.

Ramirez complied with what Dunn told him, though he already knew all these basics. 'The only reason I missed was because you were blatantly staring at my ass,' he thought to himself, irritation briefly replacing his embarrassment.

Already in the proper stance to take a steady shot, he prepared to pull the trigger. However, before he could, a pair of arms hugged him from behind. Well, not actually hugged him, but it rested on top of his hand supported him as he held the gun. The action was similar to when a mentor teaches the student to hold something properly.

"D-Dunn?" he sputtered, surprised and flustered.

"Aim properly," Dunn whispered quietly, breath blowing against his neck in the process, proving how close they were. There was almost no distance between their bodies and the fact was maddening.

Hoping his arms weren't shaking too much, Ramirez gulped and tried to focus on the target as much as possible. Still—how could he? Anybody would freak out and get disoriented when a person of romantic interest is so close.

Hesitatingly, he pulled the trigger, and it miraculously hit the target.

"Head shot, nice," Sandman complimented.

Dunn moved away from Ramirez with a content hum. Relieved, Ramirez lowered his gun and tried his luck by glancing back at Dunn. His arms were folded, his expression was relaxed and satisfied, and he altogether looked as though he was entertained.

"You okay, dude?" Dunn asked, his smirk breaking into a handsome grin. "Cause, uh, your face is a bit red there."

Frost chortled at this comment. Ramirez glared briefly at his co-worker before looking at Dunn with a slight frown.

"You did all that on purpose, didn't you?"

Dunn shrugged innocently, though the expression on his face rather gave him away. His reaction doesn't prove convincing for Ramirez, who narrowed his eyes and, hesitantly, returned to shooting the targets.

Satisfied with himself, Dunn simply returned to enjoying the view of Ramirez's arse.

A/N: So, uh, how was that? I don't like that ending tho, but it sounds pretty Jake Dunn-ish to me. Yeah, this one is based more on Ramirez/Dunn. Next one will be more Frost/Sandman.

For those who have read the Roach/Ghost News Worthy, Dunn, in this chapter, was heading out for dinner with Jackson and Roach as seen in the last scene of Chapter 1 xD Yeah, the times collide. And Ramirez thought wrong! Apparently Dunn really was just having dinner with friends. Oh well, pity on his part xD

Anyway, leave a review!