GK, The places we've never been (but were always bound to end up), 3/3, R, Brad/Ray, 24,500 words

[sansdatelimite]

Part Two

Friday

Brad is already awake when Ray stumbles into the kitchen the next morning, sitting at the table with his laptop open and sipping from a cup of coffee. He looks up when Ray starts banging around the cupboards for a mug, and there’s a knowing smirk on his face when Ray glances over at him. “You look like shit," Brad says.

”Fuck you, too," Ray mutters, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It’s not his fault he has inappropriate and sexually frustrating dreams about Brad and wakes up in the morning feeling even worse than he did yesterday. Ray is entirely convinced that this is Brad’s fault for being a cocktease, in real life and in his subconscious. Before Ray can say any of this though, he blinks in confusion, because, “Are you wearing glasses?”

Brad gives Ray an are you an idiot? look, rolling his eyes. When Brad rubs at his face, he pushes them up his head and presses the heels of his palms in his eyes. “For about a year now," Brad replies tiredly. “When I read. I forgot I brought them with.”

There’s a part of Ray that feels like he should be making fun of them, but seeing the thick black frame’s on Brad’s face is surprisingly sexy. Which is weird, because Ray has never thought about glasses like that before, except for the one girl who worked at the library when he was in high school. But that is a different story. “Huh," Ray says, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking a sip.

”Huh," Brad repeats, quirking an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything else though, and turns his attention back to his laptop, resting his chin in his palm while he stares at the screen. “Hasser wants to know if you still plan on visiting him in September.”

”Since when the fuck are you my wife?” Ray asks, scowling over the lip of his cup. “Why are you and Walt talking about me behind my back, anyways?”

”I asked him the same thing and he snorted," Brad replies, bored. He taps his fingers on the keys, occasionally pausing long enough to take a sip of coffee and Ray knows when he’s being dismissed.

Ray just leans back against the counter and finishes his coffee. He breaks out a pack of Pop Tarts to eat before he goes to get ready for work, leaving Brad alone in the kitchen with his laptop. His glasses have made it back down his face, and there’s a warm feeling that settles in Ray’s stomach that he really doesn’t have time to deal with right now. “Do you want to grab lunch at the diner again?”

Brad stops typing long enough to glance at Ray out of the corners of his eyes, and there is a small smile on his face. “Sure," he says, nodding his head. “You might want to cut back on the fries though, they’re going straight to your thighs.”

”Oh, fuck you, Brad," Ray laughs, thwacking him in the shoulder as he leaves the kitchen to go to work. Brad just laughs, swatting back at Ray, but by the time Ray is in the living room his attention is focused on his laptop once more. Ray isn’t sure if he should feel spited or not, but he doesn’t have time to stick around and find out.

Ray’s just washing some grime from his fingers before he joins Brad for lunch at the diner when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He wipes his hands on his jeans, before pulling it out and answering it. “Dude, I didn’t forget, no need to get your panties in a bunch.”

There is an awkward pause on the other end of the line, and then someone who is decidedly not Brad answers him. “Excuse me?”

”Sorry, Momma," Ray says immediately, ducking his head and smiling despite himself. “Thought you were someone else.”

”For your sake, I hope you were," his mother says, but she doesn’t sound angry. Amused, maybe, but it’s hard to tell with his cellphone getting such crappy coverage. “Do you ever plan on coming to dinner again, or do you not love your momma anymore?”

”I’ve had a friend in town," Ray replies, and he tries to ignore the part of him that feels a little guilty. Mostly though, Ray is a grown-ass man and he shouldn’t have to explain himself to his mother. Except she scares him a little sometimes, so he will. “He’s crashing at my place. I guess I forgot to call...”

”Oh, I’ve heard. Anna Beth at the diner, good girl that she is, told her momma, Carol from across the street, that you were spending all of your time with a very handsome giant,” His mother still sounds more amused than anything, but Ray knows her well enough to know she’s annoyed with him. “You know how I feel about Carol, Joshua Ray. I don’t like hearing from her that my son has guests in town and he couldn’t be bothered to let his own momma know.”

Ray has to resist the urge to bang his head against the wall, and he rubs at his temple with one hand idly. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can’t talk on the phone right now - “

”I’m setting a spot for you at the table," Ray’s mother continues, as if she hadn’t even been interrupted. “I expect to see the both of you at seven o’clock sharp, Josh.” Her tone leaves absolutely no room for discussion, and Ray knows he’s screwed.

”But - “ he starts, then pauses. How does he tell his mother he’s old enough to make his own decisions and that she can’t boss him around anymore?

His mother takes his silence and hesitance as an affirmative, though. “Good! I’ll see you tonight then. I love you.”

”I love you, too," Ray mutters back, pinching the bridge of his nose and hanging up his phone. He has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to explain this to Brad, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to go over well.

Ray waits until after they’ve finished eating, their knees pressed together under the table again before he brings up the dinner with his mother. They’re sipping at Cokes and waiting for the checks, and Brad looks like his body is finally getting used to the humidity and the heat enough that he doesn’t sweat his weight in bullets anymore. This also means Brad’s shirt isn’t sticking to him as much as it could be, which is a shame in and of itself.

”So, I have to go to dinner at my mom’s," Ray says casually, sipping his Coke and staring out the window of the diner and at the lazy street beyond. “Tonight. She thinks I don’t love her anymore because I haven’t stopped by since you showed up in town.”

Brad’s expression is blank, his tone blasé when he says, “Okay,” He twirls his straw around his cup with his thumb, before he picks it up to take a sip from it slowly.

And now for the part Ray really didn’t want to bring up, but he figures he might as well do it so he can honestly say he tried. “She, uh, kind of expects you to be there too, homes,” He risks a glance in Brad’s direction, and isn’t surprised when he’s greeting with a quirk of an eyebrow. “The cute redhead waitress, Anna Beth, her mom and my mom are like, high school friends and gossip buddies.”

”I see," Brad says slowly. He pushes his cup from hand to hand, watching it slide across the Formica table top, slipping through condensation and melted ice. “And what exactly did you tell her?”

”Relax, Brad, I didn’t tell her anything," Ray rolls his eyes. “She just decided we had to be there at nineteen-hundred and then hung up on me. You don’t have to go, she won’t get pissy at you. I’ll probably get myself on her bad list again, but it’ll hardly be the first time my momma was too pissed to talk to me.”

”I never said I wouldn’t go with you," Brad replies, looking up at Ray and blinking his eyes in confusion.

Ray stares at Brad dumbly. “Dude, you do not want to meet my mother. Trust me on this. If she wasn’t my mother and I wasn’t obligated to love her and visit every now and then, I don’t think I would. I hardly ever called here at Oceanside, but now that I’m back home it’s like, BAM, she wants to see me all the time. Like she didn’t fucking complain that I was home too much when I was a kid.”

”If you don’t want me to meet your mother, you could have just said so," Brad says irritably. He picks his soda up and drains the last of it, before smacking the plastic cup back down on the table.

Ray is really starting to get the feeling he might have been on track when he made all of those PMS jokes. “Okay," he says slowly, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to worry at it between his teeth. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to meet her, I’m just saying you’d have - I don’t know, less of a desire to bash your head into a wall - if you didn’t.”

Brad shrugs his shoulders vaguely, a minuscule motion, before he’s reaching across the table and taking Ray’s Coke and taking a drink from it. “Whatever," he says, glancing out of the window and at the lazy street.

”Whatever," Ray says in agreement, kicking Brad’s ankle lightly under the table. “Give me my soda back.”

Brad does, but only after he kicks Ray’s ankle and they break out into another ankle kicking fight under the table.

Ray showers when he gets home, actually putting forth an effort into getting the grease and sweat and dirt from his skin and hair and under his nails. It mostly works. If he could, Ray would spend an eternity under the warm spray of water, but he’s already running late and he doesn’t want his mother to yell at him too much.

He still can’t find anything in his room since Brad put all of his clothes away, and the clothes he’s just been dumping on the floor have somehow ended up in a hamper Ray didn’t even know he owned. There’s something comforting and familiar about faded jeans and worn out wifebeaters though, and Ray makes a triumphant sound when he finds them to pull on.

Brad’s in the living room with his laptop, tapping away at the keyboard with a look of mild boredom. He’s got his glasses on again, and Ray thinks Brad may be wearing them just to kill Ray, even if he can’t possibly know the affect they’re having on Ray right now. He looks up when Ray enters the living room, letting his eyes roam over Ray’s body slowly.

”You really don’t have to do this," Ray says, folding his arms over his chest, but Brad is already shutting his laptop and taking off his glasses. “My mom’s not nearly as good a cook as you are and it’s not up to your fucking health conscious Californian standards.”

”Ray, shut up," Brad says, pushing himself off of the couch and stretching. His shirt rides up to show off a tan strip of his stomach, and Ray has to look away to resist the urge to lick it. “Get your keys and let’s get this over with already.”

Ray’s mother, it turns out, adores Brad. She takes one look at him and declares him underfed, and before Brad or Ray can react, they’re being ushered into the kitchen and Brad is having gingersnap cookies thrust at him and being ordered to eat.

Brad does eat one, because he’s spent a lifetime following orders when he’s given them.

Ray tries to take a gingersnap cookie though and his mother is hitting the back of his hand with a wooden spoon. “No cookies for you, you’ll spoil your appetite," she says, sending Ray a dark look. “And have you been getting in bar fights again? You look like someone tried to strangle you.”

”Someone did try to strangle me," Ray mutters bitterly, rubbing at the back of his hand. He doesn’t have to look to know Brad has tensed up and is sending him a pathetic, apologetic look, Ray can practically feel it. “It’s fine, Momma, I can take care of myself.”

Ray’s mother just snorts at him, before waving her hands and dismissing him from the kitchen. She passes Brad the tin of cookies with the order of keep eating and tells Ray to show him around. Ray stares at her blankly, before shooting a look up at Brad.

”Weren’t you given an order?” Brad asks smugly, biting into another gingersnap cookie and smirking down at Ray. He dodges the punch Ray throws at him easily, but offers out the tin of cookies for Ray to take one.

Ray does take one, before stalking off in the direction of the living room. “That was the kitchen," he says, bitterly, biting into his cookie and glowering at the world in general. “This is the living room. There’s a bathroom down the hall, and one upstairs. My momma’s room is upstairs.”

”Is this the house you grew up in?” Brad asks, taking another bite from his cookie, before closing the tin and setting it down on the back of the couch.

”Uh, yeah?” Ray says, shooting Brad a confused look. He eats the last of his cookie, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and staring blankly at Brad.

”Don’t you have a bedroom?” Brad continues, and there’s something about the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk and a dark look in his eyes that makes something low and hot settle in Ray’s stomach.

”You are a seriously kinky motherfucker," Ray says before he can stop himself, but he’s turning on his heels and leading the way to his childhood bedroom anyway. The bed’s been replaced with something more presentable, the walls painted a soft tan instead of the blue mess Ray had taken a Sharpie to on more than one occasion. The floor was visible, too. “It didn’t look like this when I lived her. It’s a guest room now, mostly for my Grandma.”

”It’s small," Brad says, slipping past Ray to examine the room. He stops by the window to look in the overgrown backyard before his eyes are drawn to the frame itself. There are three letters carved into the wood, Ray’s initials, and they’ve been there since Ray was seven and he got his first pocket knife. Brad’s fingers skim across letters, a soft smile on his face. “My mother turned my bedroom in a home office. I still sleep in there when I visit sometimes. On a futon.”

”We can’t really expect our parents to keep our rooms the same forever," Ray points out. He sits down on the bed, leaning back and catching his weight on his palms. He cants his head to the side, watching as Brad continues to examine every corner of the room. “It’s weird being back in here. I spent a lot of time locked up in here when I was in high school, smoking pot and playing the piece of shit guitar my father got me before he fell off the face of the planet.”

Brad’s fingers skim along the line of a bookshelf, stirring dust up in his wake. “Do you ever think about your father?” Brad asks, glancing over his shoulder at Ray. “You’ve mentioned him twice since I’ve visited. You’ve only mentioned him once to me before, back when - “ Brad pauses, shaking his head. “Before.”

There’s a lump in the back of Ray’s throat that has no right being there. “Do you ever think about your real parents? The ones that decided they didn’t want you anymore and put you up for adoption?” The words are bitter, but Ray isn’t going to apologize. Brad has known Ray long enough to hopefully understand the resentment isn’t directed at him.

”Not anymore," Brad says. He picks up a snow globe from Kansas City, shaking it lightly until the white flakes start to twirl and puts it back down, staring at the rush and swirls. “When I was younger - I still remember being adopted, but I don’t remember my parents. I used to hate them. Now, I can’t be bothered to care.”

”I know that feeling exactly," Ray replies bitterly, slumping back onto the bed until he’s laying down and staring up at the ceiling. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. “What are you doing here, Brad?”

”Your mother told me to show me around," Brad says easily. “She invited us to dinner.”

Ray brings his hands up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes and makes a frustrated sound. “That’s not what I was talking about and you know it, Brad," Ray says. He’s suddenly exhausted, and he gets the feeling it has nothing to do with working out in the sun all day or lying down on a bed now. This is deeper, heavier, and Ray finds he really doesn’t want to know the answer to his question. “You kissed me.”

”You kissed me first," Brad counters. The bed dips under his weight when he sits by Ray, and he lays down as well, close enough that his elbow bumps against Ray’s.

”Years ago," Ray reminds him. “I was drunk. You pushed me away. I had been under the impression that we were never going to fucking talk about that. Jesus H Christ on a fucking crutch, Brad, I thought you were disgusted by me until a few days ago.”

The bed dips again when Brad rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow so he can stare down at Ray. “You thought - “ he starts, and he sounds so impossibly baffled that Ray opens his eyes to look up at him. “There are lot of reasons to be disgusted by your existence, I assure you, but that - that was never one.”

Ray just stares blankly. “I honestly have no idea what you’re trying to say to me right now.”

”Figures," Brad replies, his voice dropping. He reaches out to touch Ray’s face with one hand, his palm hot and huge along the curve of Ray’s jaw. Brad’s thumb brushes along Ray’s lips, pressing against the seam, and Ray flicks his tongue out to lick the pad of Brad’s thumb before he thinks to stop himself. “Ray - “

As much as Ray wants to do this, wants to lie back on the bed and let Brad’s body cover his own, wants to press their lips together and tangle their tongues, breathing harshly against each other’s mouths, this isn’t the time or the place for it. Ray can hear his mother banging around downstairs in the kitchen, and it’s only a matter of time before she calls them. She doesn’t need this drama in her life and she doesn’t need to find out this way that Ray’s not going to be giving her grandchildren because he’s been sporting wood for the same guy for over six years.

”Not here," Ray says, and it’s a bitch to get his throat to work. “Not now.” He brushes Brad’s hand away from his face, but tangles their fingers together for a brief second before letting go. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Ray flashes Brad a tired smile. “Not at my momma’s house in my old bedroom when she’s cooking. Shit’s way too fucking cliché and she’ll skin us both alive.”

Brad looks like he wants to protest, but he nods his head in acceptance anyways. He pushes away from Ray, moving fluidly as he stands up and straightens his tee-shirt from how it has ridden up along his back. “We should probably get back downstairs, then," Brad offers quietly.

Ray hates the fact that he has to agree, because even though he brought it up, there’s nothing more he’d like to do then lay in bed and touch Brad. But this they can save for later, maybe, assuming Brad’s not going to push him away and pretend this never happened again. They don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to kissing. Instead of pointing any of this out though, Ray rubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Back to the lion’s den," he says, flashing Brad a tired grin.

Brad flashes Ray a grin in response, perfect white teeth gleaming and feral, and Ray is back to thinking that, oh yeah, he is definitely screwed.

Ray’s kind of affronted that his mother pulls out all the stops when it comes to making dinner for Ray and his darling giant friend Bradley, but all he got when he came home from deployments was overcooked green beans, undercooked burgers and a glass of Kool Aid. He can see where his mother’s loyalties lie, and he is absolutely not a petulant child just because he glowers at Brad the entire way back to the house.

”Stop being a brat," Brad says, smirking. His arms are full of Glad containers Ray’s mother insisted they bring home - and subsequently threatened Ray’s life if he lost or damaged them - and Brad keeps stealing gingersnap cookies from the tin. “It’s alarmingly unattractive.”

”Fuck you," Ray says bitterly. He doesn’t stomp or storm into the house, but he does let the door slam shut behind him. Gidget is at his heels in an instant, barking happily before racing Ray to the back door to be let outside. Ray trails after her, glowering at the floorboards and tiles, because it’s not worth fuming if she ends up peeing on the floor.

”Ray," Brad says, his amused exasperation quickly fading into annoyance. He shoves the leftovers in the fridge, letting the cookies stay on the counter, before he reaches out for Ray and forces him to turn around. “Would you stop being such a little bitch for five minutes? What the fuck is your problem?”

Ray’s ears and cheeks flush as he glowers, staring pointedly at anywhere that isn’t Brad. He’s not about to admit the reason he’s pissed is because his mother is two for two on absolutely fawning over Ray’s friends but bitching at him. Ray grew up with this. It shouldn’t bother him so much that his mother adores Brad and Walt, always asks when Walt’s going to come visit again. Ray’s a grown-ass man, he doesn’t need his mother’s approval for anything.

”Ray," Brad says again, furrowing his brow and tightening his grip on Ray’s shoulder. The same hand that traced along Ray’s jaw softly two hours ago, the one that had curled around Ray’s throat when he tried to choke Ray to death in his nightmare. They still haven’t talked about that, and Ray wonders if they ever will. Ray doesn’t think he wants to know.

”Let Gidget back in when she comes back," Ray says, sighing. He brings his hands up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, making a strangled, tired sound. “I’m going to go to bed. Dealing with my mother is just so - argh. I’m going to bed. Fuck running tonight.”

Brad lets his hand drop from Ray’s shoulder, and his expression is soft but unreadable. “Okay," he says, stepping back and turning away. He goes to look out the backdoor, watching Gidget jump around in the too long grass Ray keeps meaning to mow but never does, and Ray kind of hates the fact Brad isn’t putting up a fight.

If Brad has nothing to say, then Ray doesn’t either. He doesn’t slam the door to his bedroom shut, even though he really kind of wants to. He strips out of his clothes with short, jerky motions, and lets them fall to the floor wherever they will. He crawls in between the sheets, relishing the cool material against naked skin, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t have any trouble falling asleep.

Ray wakes up to a cold nose pressed against his cheek and a snuffling sound in his ear before a quick tongue traces the line of his jaw. “Go ‘way, Gidge," Ray mumbles, pushing the Jack Russell away from his face. He has every intention of rolling over and going back to sleep, but the far side of the bed dips under sudden weight, and Ray has no choice but to open his eyes and see what the fuck is going on.

”I’m not sleeping on your goddamn couch anymore," Brad says softly before Ray can even ask. He lays down on his side, facing Ray, but there is an arm’s width of distance between them. “So shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.”

Ray just blinks tiredly in Brad’s direction, because he’s too tired and warm and his mind is too foggy and sleep-heavy to put up a fight. “I’m naked," he says, because he feels like he should say something, just so Brad doesn’t think Ray is rolling over on this one without a fight.

”I don’t care," Brad replies. He smiles when Gidget decides to jump over Ray and curl up against his chest, her tail thump-thump-thumping against the mattress happily. Ray can’t remember the last time he let Gidget sleep in his bed, but it seems like an eternity ago. “Go to sleep, Ray.”

”Don’t crush my dog," Ray warns, tiredly, fighting back a yawn. He rolls onto his side, his back towards Brad, and closes his eyes. There’s a part of Ray that feels like he should be fighting this, but the wall of heat at his back and the low, even sound of Brad - and Gidget - breathing lulls Ray to sleep before he can think to put up a fight or roll out of bed.

Saturday

The first thing Ray notices when he wakes up is that he’s really fucking hot and he feels like he’s going to die from heatstroke, the sweat clinging to his skin doing nothing to cool his body down. The second thing Ray notices, and is subsequently surprised he didn’t actually notice first, is that he is slowly being crushed to death.

Sometime during the night Brad had managed to wrap himself around Ray’s body, his face pressed against the back of Ray’s neck, breath hot and wet against Ray’s skin. He’s got both of his arms around Ray, somehow, dragging Ray back against Brad’s chest and holding him in place. One of Brad’s thighs is wedged between Ray’s legs, their skin sticking together in the humid heat. His cock is half-hard against the back of Ray’s leg, the soft fabric of his boxer briefs sticky with sweat.

Ray moves slowly, very carefully trying to untangle himself from Brad’s long limbs. He can’t stay like this, smothered in Brad’s weight when he’s naked and hard as a rock and going to die from overheating. The moment he starts to push Brad’s arms away though, Brad’s entire body tightens around Ray, crushing the air out of his lungs and forcing him impossibly tight against Brad. Ray feels no shame in slamming his elbow back against Brad’s side.

”Jesus fuck," Brad curses, exhaling sharply against Ray’s neck. “What the fuck was that for?” Brad’s voice is slurred, heavy with sleep, but it doesn’t stop him from pinching at Ray’s chest irritably and Ray absolutely does not squeak in startled pain, attempting to jerk away from Brad’s hand by pressing himself to Brad’s chest.

”Let me go, you fuckin’ Sasquatch," Ray replies irritably. He gets a grip on Brad’s wrist to the arm around his waist, shoving his hand down, but Ray knows it’s a mistake the minute he does it. Brad lets Ray guide his hand, his fingers wide and splayed across Ray’s stomach, curling easily around the curve of his hipbone. Ray stops pushing, but Brad’s hand continues to stroke down Ray’s thigh slowly. “Brad - “

”Shh," Brad says, his mouth hot where it moves against the skin of Ray’s back. He presses his knee higher between Ray’s legs, rolling his hips slowly against the back of Ray’s leg. There’s no hesitation in Brad wrapping his fingers around Ray’s dick, and if he’s surprised that Ray’s already hard, he doesn’t say anything. His fingers are gentle on Ray’s shaft, thumb rubbing along the uncut skin of Ray’s foreskin slowly before he rubs his thumb over the head of Ray’s cock slowly, teasingly.

Ray has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do in a situation like this. His dick is all for just fucking up into Brad’s hand, using the fuck out of that fist until he’s coming his brains out, but the more practical part of Ray gets the feeling they really shouldn’t be doing this right now. And normally, Ray might at least give the practical part of him a chance to prove it’s right, but Brad’s grip on Ray’s shaft is tantalizingly loose, and Ray finds himself moaning and rocking his hips forward before he can stop himself.

Brad’s mouth is hot and wet, his tongue flicking out to taste Ray’s skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses along Ray’s shoulder. He lets go of Ray and pulls far enough back that he can tug Ray’s hip and urge him to roll onto his back. He’s covering Ray’s body with his own the minute Ray is settled, Brad pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss, his teeth nipping at Ray’s lower lip before he sucks it into his mouth.

Really, there’s nothing for Ray to do but hook his fingers in Brad’s skivvies, tugging them down Brad’s ass and thighs until he can feel the slick head of Brad’s cock rubbing against Ray’s thigh, the hot, hard length of him causing Ray to arch up against him and suck in a sharp breath. The part in his lips is enough for Brad to lick his way into Ray’s mouth, bracing himself on elbows on either side of Ray’s head. It’s up to Ray to wrap his fingers around Brad’s cock and his own, pressing them together in one fist and moaning at the dry slide of skin.

Brad’s tongue is slick and demanding, probing every inch of Ray’s mouth that he can, forcing them both to hold their breaths until lungs burn because he can’t be bothered to stop. When they do part for air, shaky gasps from the both of them, Brad noses Ray’s cheek lightly before trailing wet, open mouthed kisses along Ray’s jaw. “Ray," he moans softly, his hips rocking up into Ray’s fist, the bump and slide of their cocks together making him groan. “Ray, oh, Ray.”

Ray just tips his head back to give Brad more room, clenching his eyes shut and sucking in a sharp breath. He tightens his grip on their cocks, rocking his hips up to fuck his fist, to feel the drag of his cock against Brad’s. It doesn’t take long for him to come, the pleasure building up suddenly before it’s just there and Ray is coating his fingers and Brad’s cock with a sticky thickness and a moan is vibrating from the center of his chest. He lets his dick slip from his fingers, but curls his fist tighter around Brad’s shaft, letting the sweat and come help slick and ease the dry burn of friction.

When Brad comes, moments later, it’s with a ragged groan and his teeth sunk deep into the corner of Ray’s jaw. His entire body trembles above Ray as he keeps rocking his hips into Ray’s fingers, thrusting until Ray’s wrung the last of his orgasm out of him. Brad nuzzles the bite on Ray’s jaw lightly, before he flips over onto his back, a comfortable distance away at Ray’s side.

”You make me do all the work and you won’t even cuddle?” Ray asks, rolling his head to look over at Brad, a smile quirking his lips even through the mock irritation. He absolutely does not squawk indignantly when Brad shoves him hard enough off that Ray rolls over the edge of the bed, and even if he did, the answering smirk on Brad’s face would not be charming.

Ray stays in bed long enough to listen to Brad fall back asleep and for the come on his skin to start to dry and itch. He doesn’t bother to wake up Brad, just rolls out of bed and pads across the hardwood floor of his bedroom softly. Gidget has made herself at home in a pile of Brad’s clothes on the floor, worming her way into his shirt until the only thing visible is her tail. Ray pauses long enough to appreciate the relative adorableness before he shakes his head and continues on his way.

It’s not until Ray’s under the warm spray of water and has run a washcloth over himself that he lets his mind wander, lets himself think of Brad and wonder what the Hell the two of them are even doing. Brad’s made a good show of showing he doesn’t hate Ray, that maybe wants him in a totally x-rated and sexy fun way. But Brad can’t stay here in Buttfuck, Missouri forever. He has to go back to Oceanside again, and where the fuck is Ray going to be then?

Of all the things Ray knows without a shadow of a doubt, the fact he doesn’t think he can survive Brad walking away from him again, especially after this - this thing, whatever, they have between them - is obvious. Ray’s wanted Brad for too long, loved him as a friend and brother and something maybe he shouldn’t have for as long as Ray’s known him.

Only, Ray doesn’t know how to ask Brad what the fuck they’re doing without sounding desperate, needy, like he’s been pining after his Sergeant for years, long after he pushed Brad to the back of his head and heart and grew the fuck up. Ray also knows though, that if he doesn’t ask, Brad certainly won’t. It’s Brad. He’s living with Schrödinger’s cat in a fit of uncertainty - what they have is real, important, because Brad is here, they don’t need to talk about it, but if they don’t, how are they supposed to know?

Ray always hated Schrödinger. Only assholes put innocent cats in boxes and maybe gas them to death. Ray likes cats. They remind him of Walt.

Ray stays under the spray of water until it goes cold, and even then he only gets out of the shower begrudgingly. He pats himself dry with a towel before wrapping it around his waist, wandering out of the bathroom to find clean clothes. The first thing he notices is that Brad’s not in bed, and the door to his bedroom is wide open. Also, that Brad picked the clothes up off of the floor again and his hamper is starting to get kind of full.

”Fucking girl," Ray mutters under his breath. He lets his towel fall to the floor when he pulls on his clothes, raking his fingers through his hair to make it less of a splotchy mess. He’s somehow not surprised to find that Brad isn’t in the living room, or the kitchen, and that Gidget seems to have disappeared as well. Ray stands in the middle of his kitchen, staring at his toes on the bare tile and trying to figure out when he became so dependent on not being alone.

”It’s too fucking hot here," Brad informs Ray when he bangs through the front door, sweat sticking his shirt to his chest and an irritable scowl on his face. He looks away from Ray long enough to watch Gidget drag herself to the kitchen and her water dish, a concerned frown on his face. “I shouldn’t have run for so long,” He disappears into the kitchen long enough to grab a bottle of water, and he’s already downed half of it by the time he’s back in Ray’s sight.

”Gidget’ll be fine," Ray says, without looking up from his book. He can feel Brad’s eyes on him, and Ray blinks in confusion when he meets Brad’s gaze. “You know, if you’re hot, there’s a pond I used to go swimming in a lot when I was a kid a few miles from here,” Ray doesn’t know why he offers, and Brad quirks an eyebrow at him. “Fuck you, Brad, some of us didn’t grow up on the beach.”

”That’s not - “ Brad starts, then shakes his head. “I don’t have anything to swim in," he says, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Besides, how do I know it isn’t filled with nuclear waste or something?”

”Who says you need anything to swim in?” Ray asks, quirking an eyebrow and smirking suggestively. It catches Brad’s interest enough to shoot Ray a thoughtful look, and Ray grins wider. He dog-ears the page of his book, tossing it aside on the couch and jumping to his feet eagerly. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

”I sincerely doubt that," Brad says, but he follows Ray out of the house and to his truck anyways. He stretches across the bench seat of Ray’s truck like he owns it, and his fingers bump against Ray’s shoulder as he stretches his arm across the back of the seat.

Ray flashes Brad a smile and starts to drive. It doesn’t take long to get to the pond, and they have to off-road the last quarter of a mile or so, but Ray’s truck can handle it. There’s a trail that’s been beaten down in the past, but overgrown with grass in places from disuse. The radio hums classic rock between them, and Brad rests his cheek against the windowpane with a soft smile on his face.

”It’s weird," Brad says, after they stop and he slides out of the truck staring at the pond. The water is clear enough to see the bottom, though it’s hazy and distorted. It doesn’t look as deep as Ray remembers it being, but he has no doubts at least his toes won’t reach the bottom. Brad pulls his shirt up and off, tossing it back in the open door of the truck. “Are we seriously going to do this?”

”I used to do this all the time," Ray tells him. “I’d ride my bike here with friends. We’d only skinny dip when we were drunk or high, but it was fun. Man, I lost my virginity here after convincing this girl - fuck, Lois something-or-other - that the pond would be more fun naked. We fucked in her daddy’s Caddy.”

”That was completely disgusting and unnecessary," Brad tells Ray, making a face. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Ray when he starts to strip though, his bright blue eyes studying the lean lines of Ray’s frame intensely. “If we get arrested, I’ll kill you slow and painfully.”

”We won’t get arrested," Ray snorts, rolling his eyes. He stops undressing when he gets to his skivvies, walking towards the dock at the edge of the pond. Stretching slowly, Ray shoots Brad a smirk before he hooks his thumbs in the black material and tugs them down, letting them slip down his thighs. He doesn’t give Brad time to appreciate the view though, cannonballing into the water the moment they’re down his thighs and off.

The water is somewhere shy of actually being cold, but it feels good to sink to the bottom of the pond. Ray holds his breath, eyes clenched shut, and waits until he can feel the dirt and rocks under his toes before he pushes himself back up to the surface and sucks in a sharp breath. “Jesus fucking Christ," Ray says, rubbing a hand over his face to wipe away the water.

It’s a useless action, because the next moment Brad dives into the pond after Ray, all long limbed and graceful, and the water tidal waves after he hits it. Ray’s not expecting it, and the rush of displaced water startles him, knocking him back and sliding past his open mouth. Brad’s only underwater for a second, and when he breaks the surface and sucks in a breath, Ray feels like he’s living in a porno. Brad’s skin is starting to turn gold from his fading sunburn, and the water runs off his skin in rivulets.

Ray’s starting to get the feeling he and his dick need to have a serious talk about its obsession with the thought of Brad wet, because he’s half-hard already. “You’re an asshole," Ray says, coughing up water. “You could at least warn a guy next time.”

”Stop being a bitch," Brad replies, rolling his eyes. He sucks in a breath before diving under the water again, and he treads across the pond easily, long arms and legs kicking and stroking easily. Ray can’t keep pace with him, not when Brad was pretty much born in the water, but Brad slows down enough that they’re within arm’s reach of each other as they swim to one end of the pond to the other and back again, over and over again until Ray’s arms are starting to burn and the water really does feel cold against his skin.

And maybe Brad is a better swimmer than Ray by a long shot, easily outpacing him when Ray starts to get tired and just swims in happy little circles, but that’s nothing a good hard splash of water to Brad’s face can’t solve. Brad makes an indignant sound, flailing out at Ray blindly and catching Ray’s ankle before he can swim away. He yanks, hard, dragging Ray back towards him and Ray finds himself chest-to-chest with Brad before he can even blink.

”Hi," Ray says, smiling almost innocently up at Brad. The look Brad gives him is not amused, but before he can say anything, and before Ray can convince himself he shouldn’t do it, he’s grabbing Brad’s face and dragging him down for a kiss. It’s wet and openmouthed and filthy, Ray biting at Brad’s lips and sucking at his tongue.

He isn’t surprised when Brad gets his hands under Ray’s thighs, dragging them up and urging Ray to wrap his legs around Brad’s waist. Somehow, he manages to back them up until the water is only chest height and Ray’s back is pressed against the wooden pole of the dock. He doesn’t break the kiss though, not until they’re both desperate for air. “I’m not going to fuck you in a lake," Brad says, nosing at Ray’s cheek lightly.

”Who said you were going to fuck me?” Ray shoots back, but it does no good. His cock gives an interested twitch, pressed tight between his and Brad’s stomachs. The smirk on Brad’s face is answer enough that he’s seeing through Ray’s walls. Biting his cheek, Ray lets his legs slip from Brad’s waist and pushes him away.

Brad lets Ray go, just watching as Ray grabs the edge of the dock and pulls himself up and out of the water. He rests his forearms on the edge of the dock, chin resting over his crossed wrists, but Brad doesn’t make any move to follow Ray out of the water. There’s a look on his face, one that Ray recognizes because it’s the same thing he’s been feeling for days.

Against his better judgment, Ray finds himself asking, “When do you plan on going back to Oceanside?” He doesn’t look as he asks, snatching up his skivvies and pulling them on even though his skin is still wet and they soak through in a heartbeat.

It’s the wrong question to ask. Brad’s face goes completely impassive as he watches Ray turn around, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously when Ray sits on the edge of the dock facing him, his ankles crossed but close enough he can kick Brad if he wants to. “I’ll leave whenever you want me gone. You don’t want me to go, though.”

”No," Ray says in agreement, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s kind of exactly the problem, homes. I don’t want you to go, but you’re going to have to leave sometime. This has been a great vacation and all, but you do have a life to get back to.” He drops his palms behind him, catching his weight on them easily as he leans back. “Brad, what are we even doing?”

Brad doesn’t say anything, just watches Ray through bright blue eyes and waiting for him to continue. His face is expressionless, but Ray knows Brad well enough to know Brad’s just as confused as he is in this whole situation. When Ray doesn’t say anything, Brad closes his eyes and sighs. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away, then. I didn’t want to, but I thought I had to.”

Ray blinks in confusion, staring down at Brad. The sun is glaring off of the water, making it hard for him to look at Brad, and Ray really wishes he hadn’t left his sunglasses in his truck. It’s too much of an effort to go get them now, though. “What do you mean?”

”You’re an idiot," Brad says fondly, stretching out a hand to touch Ray’s leg lightly. Brad opens his eyes again, flashing Ray a tight smile. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. And - “ he hesitates, dropping his gaze until he’s staring at his hand on Ray’s leg intently. “I’m sorry.” His voice is soft, almost inaudible, and something inside of Ray breaks at the words.

”I think - “ Ray starts, licking his lips and swallowing. His hesitance has Brad looking up at him again, his expression worried. Ray shakes his head, a wry smile on his face. “I think we should get in the truck, turn on the AC, and fuck like we’re seventeen again.”

Brad just stares up at Ray for a moment, blinking in confusion, but then an almost shy smile spreads across his face. He slips off of the edge of the dock, ducking under water once more, before he pulls himself up and there’s nothing for Ray to do but watch helplessly as the water cascades off of Brad’s skin. Here, with the sun at Brad’s back, he’s practically glowing, and Ray is frozen to the spot until Brad leans forward to catch Ray’s face in his palm and drag him into a kiss.

If Ray was a twelve year old girl and not a badass Marine, he kind of thinks that kiss might actually be a promise.

They don’t actually fuck in the truck. There isn’t room for it, though that certainly doesn’t stop Ray from straddling Brad’s lap and kissing him until they’re both breathless. Brad’s fingers are hot and tight around the both of their cocks, and the rut together desperately until they both come, coating their fingers and chests in the sticky mess.

It’s not until afterwards, when Ray uses Brad’s shirt to wipe himself clean and Brad gives him a seriously pissed off look, does Ray allow himself to stare up at Brad with a big, dopey smile. He can practically feel Brad’s desire to say something mean and spitting, but the words die on his tongue when Ray drapes against his side, using his shoulder as a pillow.

Ray lights up a cigarette from a pack he found in his glove compartment, rolling down the window and kicking his booted feed out of the window and hooking his ankles out of it. He can feel Brad’s annoyance and exasperation, but Ray takes a deep drag and closes his eyes, losing himself in the warmth of the sun, of Brad’s body, the low hum of pleasure from having gotten off twice in twelve hours and the relaxing burn of nicotine on his tongue and in his lungs.

Ray wants to stay in this moment forever, Brad’s fingers petting his stomach lightly, tracing soothing circles into the skin. He’s humming along with the radio under his breath, his cheek pressed to the top of Ray’s head, and the sounds he makes are a pleasant vibration that only add to the lazy, sleepy feeling coursing through Ray’s system right now.

Later, they’re going to have to have some serious words, of that Ray has no doubts. For now though, Ray is comfortable and warm and happy, and as far as he’s concerned, the rest of the word can fucking wait.

Master List