GK, Our Place In Time, 2/3, R, Ray/Brad, Walt, 9,832
There’s a strange feeling in Ray’s gut, a pang of hunger and a gnawing sensation. It startles him out of his nap with the suddenness it kicks in and Ray grumbles without thinking about it. “Brad, do we have anymore Skittles?”
”In the glove compartment,” Brad says. “There should be a full bag in there.” He glances at Ray out of the corners of his eyes and holds his hand out as soon as Ray retrieves the bag and opens it. “Don’t eat all of them.”
Walt is leaning forward from his spot in the back and making grabby hands for the bag of Skittles. “I want some,” he says, and Ray hands it over after pulling himself a handful. “Thank you.”
There’s a soft smile on Brad’s face and Ray tries not to think about why Brad seems so stupidly charmed by Walt and eats his Skittles quietly. The ache in his stomach goes away and Ray closes his eyes in the hope he can drift back to sleep for a nap before they reach their destination.
- - -
Brad’s fingers are warm where they curl around the back of Ray’s neck, squeezing gently. “Wake up,” he says, his nails scraping over Ray’s neck lightly. “We’re here.”
Ray opens his eyes slowly and looks up at the small house he grew up in. It’s in the same state of disrepair that he remembers it being, the garden overgrown with weeds and the lawn getting on the long side again. The paint is chipping and the screen door doesn’t hang straight but this is Ray’s home and his heart aches at the sight of it.
”Thank you,” Ray says softly, but he doesn’t know how to express it beyond that. For bringing him home, for being there for his momma when she needed him, for being here for Ray now even though Ray dragged along their very own sunshine puppy.
”Don’t,” Brad says, and Ray’s not entirely sure what he means. Brad’s fingers squeeze lightly though before they let go and Brad reaches down to undo his own seatbelt. “We’ve made it this far.”
”Yeah,” Ray says distractedly. He’s thrown off for the longing of Brad’s hand on his skin again, warm like it belonged there, and he tries to ignore the curious way that Walt is looking at them with his head cocked to the side. He thinks he should say something else, but there’s a comfort in this silence and Ray wants to hold onto it for as long as he can.
- - -
It starts with a hug, Ray’s momma dragging him into a tight hug and clinging to him tight enough Ray can feel the air being crushed out of his lungs. She barely banged through the screen door before she dragged him in tight, and Ray can’t think of anything to do but wrap his arms around her and pat the top of her head awkwardly.
Eventually, when the shuffling of Brad and Walt gets impossible to ignore and Ray is starting to get lightheaded from the force she’s holding him with, his momma lets go and steps back. She straightens his dark green tee and tsk-tsk’s about how low his jeans are hanging on his hips. Then, without warning, she backhands him hard enough in the chest that he cries out and steps away from her instinctively.
”Don’t you say a damn word, Joshua Ray,” his momma warns, pointing a finger at him in frustration. She turns her attentions to Brad and Walt and it’s like she’s suddenly a different person, bright smiles and cheerful expression. “Sergeant Colbert, it’s so good to see you again!”
”Brad,” he corrects, the corner of his lip twitching up into a smirk. “It’s nice to see you sober this time, ma’am.”
That alarms Ray more than it should, probably, but at no point in the last few days did Brad mention that he had actually met Ray’s mother. He opens his mouth to object, but Brad just quirks an eyebrow at him and shrugs, and Ray bites his tongue.
”Brad,” Ray’s momma says, patting his cheek gently. “You can be cheeky all you want, Sergeant, but know I’ll send you to the back with Ray to do his chores.”
”Of that I have no doubt,” Brad replies earnestly, and Ray can’t help but laugh. He grins widely when Brad grins over at him, and not even the dark look Ray’s momma sends him can dampen the moment.
”And I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t remember your name,” Ray’s momma says, looking down to where Walt’s teetering on the edge of the first porch step.
”It’s Walt, ma’am,” Walt replies, smiling shyly. The sun is making his skin golden and his sandy hair shine, his blue eyes sparkling sweetly and Ray’s a little surprised his mother doesn’t actually start cooing at the sight of him.
”Lordy, look how thin you are,” She says. She all but snaps at Walt to get him closer, grabbing his wrist and dragging him through the screen door and inside of the house. “You’re so young! The good Sergeant and Ray don’t know how to take care of you at all, do they? Don’t worry, momma will get some food in you.”
”Oh!” Walt says, but he lets himself be tugged. There’s a look of shock and amazement on his face, a helpless expression curling his brows up but Ray doesn’t do anything to help him. “I’m eighteen, ma’am, and they take care of me alright - “
”Nonsense,” Ray’s mother says and the screen door bangs shut after Walt as she drags him into the house.
It leaves Brad and Ray standing on the porch alone, and there are so many things Ray wants to ask him right now, but he can’t think to voice a single one. He feels oddly anxious in a distracted sort of way, a complete reversal of the calm and relief he was feeling beforehand.
Ray licks his lips and runs his fingers through his hair slowly when something occurs to him. “Hey, Brad?” he asks, and he waits until Brad meets his gaze before he continues, “what are you going to do now that we’re here?”
Brad is quiet for a few moments, looking away from Ray’s face to look out across his childhood lawn. “I don’t know,” he says quietly, but before either of them can say anything else Ray’s mother is screaming Joshua Ray! and Brad smiles sheepishly before pushing Ray towards the screen door.
- - -
Walt spends most of the afternoon in the kitchen with Ray’s mother, being nearly force-fed a million different things as she delegates the tasks of chopping and peeling potatoes to him. Brad is sent out back to make sure the grill is wiped down and heated up and Ray is left to battle with an old electric mower to mow the lawn.
”I’m twenty four fucking years old,” Ray says bitterly, plopping down onto the porch swing at Brad’s side as soon as he’s done. “And she still makes me mow the fucking lawn, like I’m ten and want five dollars to go to the arcade with.”
”You got five dollars for mowing the lawn?” Brad asks, quirking an eyebrow and hanging Ray the half empty glass of cold lemonade he was sipping from.
”No, I said I wanted five dollars,” Ray mutters. “I was lucky if she remembered to give me lunch money, and even then I usually only ate two or three days a week.” When Ray realizes what he’s said and the look of mild shock on Brad’s face, he waves his hand dismissively. “It wasn’t like that. I just never got up early enough to pack my own lunches. My momma was mean sometimes, but she wasn’t bad.”
”My mother still tries to pack my lunches,” Brad says, smiling fondly. “She’s convinced they don’t feed us right on base.” He pauses, frowning slightly. “Which isn’t entirely untrue, but the point is the same.”
Ray snorts and pats Brad’s thigh in a mock sympathetic gesture. He doesn’t think about the brief brushes of denim and the firm muscle underneath. Standing up and stretching, Ray says, “I’m going to see if I can catch a shower before dinner.”
”Good,” Brad says seriously, “because you reek.”
Ray pulls his shirt off for the sole purpose of tossing it at Brad’s face, and he ducks inside the sliding glass door quickly before Brad can retaliate.
- - -
They all stay on the back porch, long after dinner is finished and the sun has gone down. Their empty plates have been moved to the kitchen, but Walt is chowing happily on his second slice of pie - and how he still has room for anything after all Ray’s momma has already force-fed him amazes Ray - and the pitcher of lemonade stands empty at the center of the table.
”I’ve gotta call it a night,” Ray’s momma says eventually, patting Ray’s thigh softly. “If you three think about sneaking out in the middle of the night, know I’ll hunt you down. I don’t want to hear anything about a motel room, not tonight.”
”Of course,” Brad says, smiling fondly. His fingers skim along the lip of the mason jar he’d been using as a cup and Ray is distracted by the soft swirls of his long fingers momentarily.
”Just make Ray change the sheets in his old room, and the couch pulls out,” She goes on softly. “You can either share or sleep on the floor, but I’m sure you boys have all slept in way worse conditions before.”
”No kidding,” Ray huffs, and he scowls when his mother flicks her fingers against his thigh and snaps behave at him. It really is like he never aged past his teen years, despite the fact he should be thirty by now to her.
They all wish her a good night and are quiet as she leaves. Eventually Walt puts down his empty plate and touches a hand to his stomach tenderly. “I think I’m ready for bed, too,” he says softly, his eyelids getting heavy and his smile lazy-soft.
They play roshambo to see who gets to sleep in the bedroom and Walt wins. He trails behind Ray as Ray finds sheets to make the bed up, leaving Brad alone to put out the candles and take the last of the dishes into the kitchen and rinse them off.
”You gonna play Brad for the pullout couch?” Walt asks tiredly, sitting down in the desk chair in Ray’s old room. “You can stay in here with me, if you want.”
”Nah,” Ray says, shaking the sheets out with a sharp flick. “My momma will kill me if she finds Brad sleeping on the floor and me in the bed. I’ll just bully Brad into sharing with me.”
”Brad’ll be okay with that?” Walt asks, tipping his head to the side and frowning. “I mean. He doesn’t really like to touch people, does he?”
Ray doesn’t know what to say to that so he just lifts his shoulder in a vague shrugging gesture. “Brad and I had this mountain warfare training thing we did a few years ago, yeah? Cold as Hell and the only cold weather gear we had was a blanket each. Brad and I had to share a Ranger grave. It wasn’t so bad.”
”Ah,” Walt says, but his expression is still kind of confused.
”Just go to bed, Walt,” Ray says softly, smiling. “My momma’s in the next room over and there’s a bathroom in that room next to the stairs. Brad and I will be downstairs.”
”I don’t need you to take care of me,” Walt says, but his annoyance is secondary to his exhaustion and he crawls onto Ray’s old bed as soon as the bottom sheet is stretched over the mattress. “Continue.”
Ray laughs, but he picks up the next sheet to shake over Walt. He does the same with the blanket and tosses the pillow at Walt’s head. “Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he says, but Walt is already out like a light and Ray flips the switch and steps out of the room quietly.
- - -
Brad doesn’t say anything when Ray rolls onto his stomach on the pullout couch by Brad’s side, and Ray can’t read his expression in the dark. The only light comes from the LED display on the VCR and the distant glow of a nightlight/air freshener upstairs.
It feels strangely intimate, despite the fact they’re unprotected in the middle of the room with absolutely no privacy. There’s blankets on top of them, crocheted by Ray’s grandmother long before Ray remembers when, and they keep Brad and Ray warm from the chill hum of the AC.
Ray wants to say goodnight, anything to call this day to a close and banish the tense feeling between the two of them. He doesn’t know where it came from, and it’s nothing like that feeling in the Wal-Mart what feels like ages ago. No, it’s more reminiscent of the days Ray spent crammed in a shitty Humvee with Brad and -
- and oh, Brad’s hand finds Ray’s face, even in the dark, and it’s so hot and huge against Ray’s skin. His fingers search blindly across Ray’s brow and along the cut of his jaw before finally pushing against Ray’s lips. There are a million things Ray can say right now, but he can’t think to voice a single one. His heart is caught in his throat and it’s blocking all cognizant function from happening.
Then Brad is pulling away from Ray and rolling over on the mattress, the springs protesting loudly as Brad puts his back to Ray and mutters go to sleep, Ray quietly, into the dark.
Ray has no idea what happened and he has no idea if he wants to know. He feels a messed up, mixed up wash of feelings that make his head spin; he’s flustered, he’s confused, he’s silently self-deprecating and he’s alarmingly aroused. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but his words die on his tongue and he stares at what he’s pretty sure is the slope of Brad’s shoulder in the dark.
Ray doesn’t say a damn thing, and he doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. It would be so easy to reach out and touch Brad and demand answers, but instead Ray lays in the dark and tries to convince himself he doesn’t want to rub against Brad until he comes in his shorts and eventually he manages to sleep.
- - -
Ray comes to slowly, awoken by the soft sound of whispers and the groan as the pullout couch as Brad shifts his weight. “What’s wrong?” he hears Brad asks, and Ray presses his face into the mattress and clenches his eyes shut tightly.
”It’s too quiet upstairs,” Walt whispers, the floor creaking slightly as he shifts his weight.
”Okay?” Brad sounds confused, or maybe exasperated, but Ray can feel his fondness as well. It annoys Ray more than it should, but not as much as being woken up in the middle of the night does.
Walt is quiet for a moment, before asking meekly, “I’ll trade you?”
Brad heaves a put-upon sigh and shifts his weight again, their makeshift bed dipping as he sits up. “It’s a pretty shitty bed,” he warns Walt quietly.
”I don’t care. I slept in mud and on rocks for months,” Walt replies earnestly. He sounds grateful and relieved, and Ray can practically feel it resonating in his chest. He certainly feels something.
”Fine,” Brad says tiredly. “Just stop looking at me like that.”
”Sorry,” Walt says, but he doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic.
The roll of Brad’s eyes is practically audible in the dark. The pullout couch groans when Brad shifts his weight and stands up, but it’s only a few seconds before the thin mattress and springs are dipping again.
”Thanks, Brad,” Walt says quietly, and he sounds earnest.
”Just go to sleep, Walt,” Brad replies just as quietly.
”Okay.” The makeshift bed groans as Walt shifts his weight, scooting more towards the center and closer towards Ray. He’s warm, and Ray finds himself relaxing and easing closer without thinking about it.
Ray doesn’t open his eyes until long after Walt’s breathing evens out, one of his hands curled in the loose fabric of Ray’s shirt. It’s easier to just focus on that than the distant feeling of abandonment caused by Brad leaving his side.
- - -
When Ray wakes up a second time, the sun is starting to rise and Walt is sleeping peacefully at his side. Ray has to pry Walt’s fingers from his shirt, but Walt doesn’t stir even as Ray carefully levers himself up off the mattress. For a moment, Ray is content to just watch Walt sleep until he feels a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck.
Ray turns around, and Brad is just staring at him quietly. He touches a finger to his lips and tips his head towards the back door. The invitation is obvious despite the silence and Ray doesn’t wait for Brad to creep down the rest of the steps before pulling open the sliding glass door and moving to sit at the edge of the deck.
Brad joins him just as silently, sliding the door shut behind him and sitting at Ray’s side. For the longest time they don’t say anything, content to just sit and watch the sunrise over the broken skyline of trees and fences.
”Where do we go from here, Brad?” Ray asks quietly. He means from the touch in the dark and now that they’re in Nevada, Missouri - but he also wants to know how they’re supposed to bridge this gap between them that developed in the last six years and get back to how they were before any of this happened. Ray wants to know if this means Brad’s done with him.
For a while, Brad stays silent. He watches the sky even as the sun rises high enough to shine in his eyes before he sighs and finally looks over at Ray. “Honestly, I have no fucking clue.” He doesn’t stand up to leave after the declaration like Ray thought he would, but he doesn’t offer anything more in the silence either.
Ray doesn’t know what kind of answers he was expecting to get from Brad, but he figures that this is pretty close. He keeps quiet as well though, because there’s a turmoil of feelings crashing around inside of him and he doesn’t know where to start. All Ray knows for sure is that Brad is still here with him, sitting on the back porch of the house Ray grew up in, and maybe that’s a start.
- - -
There’s been an unspoken agreement that the three of them are going to stick around for a few days, but Ray’s not sure if it’s out of an actual desire to stay or because Ray’s momma can be pretty threatening. Not that she outright said they had to say, but the implication has been pretty obvious.
”So what are you boys going to get up to today?” she asks as she picks up their plates from breakfast, and she waves off both Walt’s and Brad’s offers of assistance. Ray would have offered, but he knows she would have made him do the dishes.
Ray can feel both of Brad and Walt’s eyes on him and he rubs the back of his neck kind of sheepishly. “Uh, I figured I’d go up to see Gran if she was up for it.” Ray pauses, because his grandmother isn’t the only other woman in town he hasn’t seen for a few years, but he hesitates before saying Roxy’s name.
”I’m sure she’d love to yell at you as well,” Ray’s momma says, dropping the dishes in the sink. “She doesn’t get much company these days but I try to visit when I can.”
”I know,” Ray says, more out of a need to say something. He looks at Brad and Walt and wonders what the hell they’re supposed to do for a few hours while he gets chewed out by his grandmother. “I can show you guys to the theatre or something if you want to kill some time.”
”We don’t - “ Walt starts, then bites his lip. “I mean, I don’t mind staying here.” He looks over at Ray’s mother almost shyly. Ray feels a strange ache in his chest at the action and he wonders how much Walt misses his mother but figures it’s impolite to ask. “I can help with things.”
”Aren’t you sweet,” Ray’s mother croons. “Don’t worry about that, sweetie. I have to go to my morning shift at the store. You spend time with Joshua Ray and enjoy yourself.”
There’s an amused curl to Brad’s lip, but Ray’s not sure if it’s from the implication that one could enjoy themselves with Ray - which, fuck you - that he’d gone unmentioned, or from the way Walt’s cheeks redden at the mothering.
Ray wonders if he should be jealous that his mother has taken so warmly to Walt, but then there’s a stab of guilt in his chest and he instantly regrets even considering it. Walt’s been through hell and lost everyone he knows and cares about, if he wants to absorb Ray’s momma’s affections like a sponge, then he has all rights to do so.
Brad’s eyes are on Ray, his expression unreadable, but Ray refuses to make contact and pays attention to Walt and his momma instead.
- - -
Ray finds Brad on the back porch smoking, and he lights up his own cigarette and stands at Brad’s side without thinking about it. It’s comforting to stand with Brad, even if it’s not as good as it used to be. Still, Ray feels like that sense of trust and belonging is starting to come back. Slowly, but Ray will take what he can get.
”What are you and Walt going to do when I’m at my Gran’s?” Ray asks, blowing the smoke from his lungs with a single, steady breath.
”Gotta put gas in my Jeep,” Brad replies quietly. “Figured Walt and I would check out the town and get lunch or something until you needed us to help you escape.”
Ray hums thoughtfully and takes another drag from his smoke. He holds it in until it aches, but he doesn’t cough when he exhales. He hasn’t done that since he was a kid. “You going to tell him? About, you know?”
”Yeah,” Brad says simply. He presses heels of his hands into his eyes, mindful of the flickering of his cigarette and the ashes, and sighs heavily. He drops his hands and the cigarette and crushes it under his heel. “No use putting it off. If he wants to go see Joseph, we might as well do it while we’re still on this side of the country.”
There’s a logic to that that even Ray can’t deny, and he hums again. “It fucking sucks, homes,” Ray says quietly. He isn’t surprised when Brad just hmms his agreement. Then, inexplicably, he finds himself asking, “I don’t have a girlfriend anymore, do I?”
Brad looks startled for a second, then resigned. There’s a clench in his jaw and he says, “no” with more bitterness than Ray thinks he intended.
Ray isn’t surprised. He didn’t think she’d wait for him and he’s surprisingly grateful that she didn’t. He’ll miss having sex with her, sure, and the way she tastes on his tongue and digs her nails into his back, but he can get that from basically anyone. “How long she’d wait?”
”A little over two years,” Brad says, and he seems to have gotten a little more control over himself again. He watches Ray’s face cautiously, and Ray can feel Brad’s concern sharp in his chest. “She called your mother in tears to say she was sorry but she couldn’t do it anymore. I’m surprised your mother didn’t shoot her.”
Ray is kind of surprised by that, too. Instead of saying it though, he just shrugs a shoulder and drops his cigarette to crush it under his boot. “It’s for the best,” Ray says, and he wonders if it makes him fucked up if he actually means it.
Either way, Ray doesn’t ask about Roxy again.
- - -
Meeting his grandmother goes much the same way as Ray’s phone call to his mother. She screams at him, refuses him admittance into the her small apartment building, before she starts throwing pens and plastic cups with flowers at him and demanding he hug her before her heart gives out. Ray wonders why all the women in his life have to be so dramatic, but does as he’s told and ignores the fact he made a seventy year old woman cry in the lobby.
As soon as she’s done, she hits Ray’s chest, more loud than hard, and demands he come upstairs with her so she can feed him because he’s too damn skinny and wants to know he didn’t come see her last night when he got into town in the first place.
This too is familiar though, despite the six years she thinks he’s been gone, but Ray doesn’t mind. Sitting at the Formica table in her small kitchen is comforting, and he lets his grandmother make him grilled cheese sandwich after grilled cheese sandwich and he tries to give her satisfying answers about how he’s been.
Honestly, Ray’s not even entirely sure how he’s doing now, but if he has to see another person cry in his life it’ll be too soon. So he just squares his jaw and lies through his teeth, and he’s glad that his grandmother has enough sense not to question him. And Ray thinks maybe things are going to be okay after all, at least for a little while.
- - -
Walt isn’t in the Jeep with Brad when Brad comes to pick him up, and Ray doesn’t even have to ask for Brad to clench his jaw and shake his head. There’s a sudden pit in Ray’s chest, deep and aching, and Ray just climbs into the passenger’s seat quietly and tries not to think about anything at all.
- - -
Ray’s momma is back from her shift at the store when Ray and Brad get back, and she looks up from her spot on the couch to shake her head quietly. “He said he wanted to take a nap and I ain’t heard from him since.”
Brad’s jaw clenches and he nods his head in understanding. “I bought motor oil. If you give me your keys I’ll go fix your truck.”
”Sweetie, you don’t have to do that,” Ray’s momma says, but she doesn’t make an objecting sound when Ray picks her keys up from the short bookshelf to hand to Brad.
”What’s wrong with her truck?” Ray asks, with a frown.
”Nothing,” Ray’s mother insists.
”She hasn’t taken it to a shop for maintenance in eleven years,” Brad says with wry amusement.
”Jesus Christ, momma, what are you going to do if it breaks down on you?” Ray asks with amazement. “Didn’t I teach you better than that?”
”Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Joshua Ray,” his mother warns.
Ray doesn’t have it in him to feel guilty. He looks at Brad instead and frowns. “You want some help, homes? I can’t imagine it’s any worse than the piece of shit Humvees we used to work on, but - “
”I’ll be fine,” Brad says. He drops his voice and tips his head, gesturing for Ray to follow him out of earshot of his mom. “Walt - “ he starts, but then he stops. He doesn’t know how to say he’s worried, Ray realizes, but the flickering of Brad’s eyes towards the stairs is point enough.
Ray nods his head in understand and claps Brad’s back. He leaves his hand on Brad’s shirt, warm from the Missouri summer heat and his own body, and Ray tries not to let himself think about what Brad’s skin must feel like underneath it. Now really isn’t the time. “Don’t kill my mom’s truck, okay? That thing is older than I am.”
”Shut up, Ray,” Brad says fondly, knocking his fist against Ray’s jaw playfully before pushing him away. “The real men have work to do now.”
Ray snorts and Brad grins, and if the situation wasn’t so fucked up right now, it would almost be perfect.
- - -
Walt is on his belly on the bed when Ray sneaks upstairs, ignoring the quiet demands his mother urges for him to leave Walt alone. Ray doesn’t know if she knows what Walt’s going through, isn’t even sure if she knows Walt’s like Ray but he trusts she’s smart enough to figure that much out.
Ray doesn’t think Walt should be alone right now and his response to Brad’s words about his family were bad enough for Brad to voice his concern, albeit in his own, nonverbal way.
Walt doesn’t look up from where he’s tracing circles into the sheets, and his fingers don’t stop swirling their concentric design. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Walt says sullenly.
It’s like a punch to the gut, the feelings that wash over Ray suddenly. There’s an ache that pumps through his veins and resonates in the core of his being, something dark and empty and so painfully lonely. Ray’s body physically aches with the pain and he feels lightheaded.
”I don’t want to talk,” Ray manages. He’s dizzy and he braces one hand against the wall to keep from toppling over. He wants Walt to look at him, wants to hold him tight and rub his thumbs over Walt’s wet, red cheeks, and he doesn’t know where this sudden, deep affection comes from. Ray just knows someone needs to take care of Walt, and it might as well be him.
Ray doesn’t do any of that though. He just lays down on his stomach at Walt’s side, covering Walt’s hand with his own to stop him from tracing circles for just a few seconds. Ray squeezes gently and pretends he doesn’t see the way Walt trembles and tries to ignore the sudden bubbling desire to cry.
”Brad and I are here for you,” Ray says quietly, letting go of Walt’s hand. He’s a little surprised when Walt’s fingers chase his own, curling around Ray’s tightly and holding on, but Ray just squeezes them again and holds on tightly. “Walt.”
Walt doesn’t say anything though, just shifts his weight and turns his head in the other direction. He doesn’t let go of Ray’s fingers as he sniffles wetly, his body practically radiating shame as he starts to cry quietly in front of Ray.
Ray doesn’t say a word as he holds onto Walt’s fingers, and this time Ray swears to himself he isn’t going to make the mistake of letting Walt go ever again.
- - -
Dinner is a quiet affair, Brad and Ray and Ray’s momma eating barbequed spaghetti at the kitchen table. There’s a place set for Walt, but he doesn’t come down, and Ray tries to ignore the overwhelming feeling of absence at his loss.
”You did the right thing,” Ray’s momma tells Brad, rubbing her thumb over his cheek to wipe away a grease stain he missed while washing up. He doesn’t make eye contact while she doesn’t, but he doesn’t flinch away, and Ray’s mother just pats Brad’s cheek lightly before moving to put her dirty dishes in the sink.
She watches game shows loudly in the living room, and Ray doesn’t think twice before following Brad when he stands up to go out back. It’s quieter out here, but not by much, and Brad doesn’t stop walking until he’s at the far end of the yard and investigating a weather-beaten bench. It doesn’t collapse under his weight and Brad takes it as a sign to pull out a cigarette and relax.
Not that Brad looks relaxed, with the hard set of his eyes and the tense clench of his jaw. The fact that he’s smoking at all signals to Ray that’s something’s wrong in the first place, and Ray wonders if it’s weird that he notices these signs or if other people are stupid not to.
Ray takes a cigarette when Brad offers him the pack, waiting for Brad to light it for him before sitting down at his side. “I think Walt’s going to be alright,” he offers quietly, toying with the smoke in his fingers. “He’s - “ Ray doesn’t know what he is and the only feelings he can conjure up are akin to desolation. Walt is strong though. Ray knows he is. “Walt.”
Brad hums softly in response and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He’s still tense and Ray drops his gaze to watch the muscles in Brad’s thighs clench and unclench under his khaki shorts as he digs his heels into the dirt.
Ray doesn’t try to talk after that, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. He knows Brad’s beating himself up inside over whatever happened between him and Walt earlier, and Ray wishes more than anything he could have been there for the both of them.
Before he can think better of it and convince himself not to do it, Ray switches the hands he’s holding his cigarette with and curls his fingers around Brad’s wrist slowly. Brad tenses up at Ray’s side, watching him with a blank expression, but he doesn’t pull away and Ray takes it as permission to slide his hand forward until he’s holding Brad’s hand with his own.
Brad looks at their joined hands quietly but doesn’t pull away. His expression is still carefully blank when looks back up across the yard and he doesn’t move again until his cigarette has burned itself down to the filter and he drops it to the dirt. Brad doesn’t let go of Ray’s hand when he pulls his cigarettes back out, pulling one from the carton and lighting it one handed.
Ray doesn’t think he’s ever spent this much time holding someone’s hand in his life - definitely not in one day - but Ray’s gotta admit, there is something nice about it . He’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but there is a strange comfort in this, and he heaves a sigh of relief.
- - -
Brad and Ray stay outside until they’ve managed to smoke their way through the remains of Brad’s carton of cigarettes and Ray ponies up and pulls out his own to split. Their lungs are going to hate them for it in the morning and Ray’s never been one for chain smoking, but he justifies it that the smokes spend more time in his fingers than his mouth.
They wait until the sun has set and the light in Ray’s momma room turns on and goes dark again before they head back inside. Ray’s hand feels cold and empty without Brad’s palm pressed against him, and he balls his hand into a fist to keep from making a stupid comment about it.
They’re surprised to find Walt asleep on the pullout couch, already stretched out and covered with checkered sheets. Ray doesn’t think before climbing onto the pullout couch beside him, and Brad just nods his head quietly at them before turning off the porch light and heading upstairs.
It only takes a few minutes for Ray to fall asleep in the dark with Walt breathing steadily at his side, but those moments Ray spends tossing and turning in the dark and cringing at every groan of the springs beneath him feels like an eternity.
- - -
Walt is already awake when Ray wakes up, and he’s sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal with Brad. They’re not talking, and there’s a tense feeling in Ray’s gut when he realizes Walt is pointedly not looking at Brad.
”Hey,” Ray says, waving his fingers when they both look up at him. “You sleep alright?” Walt shrugs, then nods, and Brad rolls his eyes at the question. It’s basically the response Ray was expecting and he nods his head. “Where’s my momma?”
”She said she had to go to church with your gran,” Walt replies. “She offered to let us come with, but…” Walt’s voice fades away and he looks a little sheepish in his guilt. “I’ve never liked church.”
”I don’t blame you,” Ray says. He rummages through the cabinets until he finds a clean bowl of his own, and pours himself a bowl of cereal before joining Brad and Walt at the table. “The Minister hates me.”
Walt looks genuinely confused at that, and Ray kind of likes that Walt looks shocked when people don’t like him. It’s strangely refreshing. “What did you do?”
”When I was seven my friend Steve dared me to piss in the fountain where they do the baptisms,” Ray replies around a mouthful of fruit loops. He swallows at Brad’s nose wrinkle, and when Walt continues to look confused, Ray adds, “…and I did.”
At that, Walt looks moderately horrified. “There is something very wrong with you, Ray.”
”Finally figured that one out, at least.” Brad’s huffing laugh startles Walt and Ray kicks Brad under the table, a silent fuck you. Brad just rolls his eyes and points his spoon at Ray. “You’re a messed up hick.”
”But you love me anyways,” Ray says with a grin, and Brad just huffs again and rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile on his face and Ray knows he’s won - even if the words aren’t necessarily true, the point is the same.
- - -
Ray’s mother brings his grandmother by the house when she comes back from church, and they end up eating a mountain of sandwiches and potato salad on the back porch. The air is on the humid side but there’s plenty of lemonade, and things almost feel like they could be normal again.
Walt is quiet, still isn’t quite managing to look at Brad - he’s guilty about it though, Ray thinks, and he can feel an answering spike curl in his own belly - but he replies when he’s spoken to and there’s a distant sort of smile on his face.
It’s not until Ray’s mother and grandmother go inside to get out of the humidity and gossip about the other members of the church does Walt finally speak up on his own. He clears his throat awkwardly, but he doesn’t drop his gaze when Brad and Ray turn to look at him.
“I want - “ A pause, and Walt sucks in a sharp breathe to steady himself. “- I would like to go see Joseph,” he says with conviction. His eyes are determined and there’s a set to his jaw that looks out of place on Walt’s face. It wavers though, and Walt adds, “if it’s not too out of the way.”
”It’s a two day drive from here,” Brad replies easily, leaning back in his seat and tracing his fingers over the lip of his mason jar. “Give or take. I’ve got a week of leave left. Plenty of time to get out to Virginia and back to California.”
It’s the first time any of them have mentioned the possibility of what was going to happen when this road trip is over, and Ray feels a pang of regret in his chest. It feels like they’ve been doing this for so long, but they’ve only been at it for a few days. Not even a week has passed since they set out from Seattle and it feels almost surreal.
”If we leave tomorrow we could make it to Columbus,” Brad goes on, though he sounds more contemplative now. “We could leave late. Then it’s only a couple hours from there to Taylorstown.”
”Homes, how do you even know that?” Ray asks in mild amazement. “You couldn’t even keep track of where the fuck we were in Iraq, now you know how to get from Buttfuck, Missouri to Buttfuck, Virginia?”
”Hey…” Walt says, scowling across the table at Ray.
”Google Maps,” Brad says simple, lifting his shoulder in a casual shrug. “I have to do something while you two are sleeping.”
”Most people would just jerk off or something,” Ray says wryly, and the corners of Brad’s lips tip up in amusement. “Though this does explain how you’ve managed to navigate us this far.”
”I’ve driven coast to coast on my bike enough times to know how to get across the country,” Brad replies simply, and somehow this doesn’t surprise Ray. Taking a cross country road trip on his Yamaha sounds exactly like something Brad would do.
”So we leave tomorrow then,” Walt says, drawing Brad and Ray’s attentions back to him. He’s staring at the dregs of his lemonade in contemplation. He feels so sad, so distant, and Ray doesn’t think before rubbing his hand across Walt’s shoulder slowly. Walt smiles faintly before looking almost stricken.
Ray stops rubbing and looks at Walt in concern. “What?”
”What’s going to happen to you?” Walt asks, hesitant. “I mean. Are you - going to stay here with your momma?”
”I’m staying with Brad,” Ray says before he has time to think about it. He isn’t surprised the words come out of his mouth at all and he means them more than he knows how to say. He means, I left Brad on his own on a fucked up road trip before and I ain’t going to do it again, even if he doesn’t say it aloud.
Brad just quirks and eyebrow when they both turn to look at him, and says, “I’m not telling Ray’s mother that he’s choosing to leave her already.”
”She’ll get over it,” Ray says, waving a hand dismissively. He pauses to think about it and adds, “but we should probably wait after dinner just in case she tries to poison us or something to get us to stay.”
Walt smiles timidly and Brad laughs, and Ray just grins at them in response.
- - -
Ray’s mother, as expected, doesn’t take the news well. She doesn’t cry, not exactly, but she tosses oven mitts and spatulas in Ray’s direction until he promises to come visit her soon. He doesn’t give her a date when, because he doesn’t want to break that kind of promises, but his momma seems satisfied with the answer.
Ray’s not entirely sure, but he thinks she’s going to miss Brad and Walt more than she misses him. (He knows, objectively, that that isn’t true at all but it makes him feel less guilty about leaving her after only three days, and at this point, Ray will take what he can get.)
- - -
Walt sleeps on the pullout couch with Ray yet again, and the sound of his even breathing is familiar in the dark. It comforts Ray in a way he doesn’t know how to explain. He doesn’t sleep that night though, not until after the tell-tale signs of whimpers kick in and Walt starts to tremble on the far side of their bed.
Ray just shhs him quietly, dragging his knuckles up and down Walt’s spine until eventually, Walt’s whimpers taper out and he goes still again. Not a bad night for him, then, and Ray waits until his breathing evens out once more before closing his eyes and attempting to sleep.
It doesn’t come easily to him that night, and when it does all Ray dreams about is that empty field where he was taken and miles and miles of tall grass surrounding him.
- - -
Ray’s momma makes them breakfast in the morning and rubs a dishtowel through Walt’s hair to dry it after his shower. She fusses over him and Brad, forcing seconds onto their plates and actually takes the time to burn the bacon almost to a crisp because she knows that’s how Ray likes it.
Against all of their protests, she makes them sandwiches for the road and manages to find them a case of Coke to send them on their way with. She cradles Ray’s face in her hands and kisses his forehead. “Don’t go disappearing for another six years, you hear me?”
Ray covers his mother’s hands with his own and bows his head. “I’ll try not to,” he says solemnly. “But if I do, you can’t get drunk and harass Brad anymore, okay? I’m not going to have a partner in crime if you keep doing that.”
”Don’t be ridiculous,” Ray’s momma says flippantly. “I can do whatever I damn well want.” She grins, and Ray can feel the corners of his lips quirk up in response. “Besides, we both know that boy will come to the ends of the Earth to find you.”
There’s a sharp feeling in Ray’s chest, something he doesn’t know how to identify, and he’s glad Brad and Walt are busy trying to load their stuff in the Jeep. Not that they had much. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ray huffs, and he stares at a stray wisp of his mother’s hair to avoid meeting her gaze. “Brad’s only doing it because he owes me six years’ worth of nagging.”
”Maybe,” his mother says, finally letting go of his face and straightening out his shirt. “But he still came for you.”
Ray doesn’t know what that means, but judging from the stupidly warm feeling in his chest right now, he thinks it’s a good thing.
- - -
Walt falls asleep in the back of Brad’s Jeep almost an hour out, his soft snoring the only sound other than the hum of the engine. There’d been nothing on the radio besides country music since they left Ray’s hometown, and Brad flat out refused to listen.
Stretching in the passenger’s seat and groaning softly, Ray slumps back in his seat and stares out of the windshield with half lidded eyes. “Hey, curiosity, how far is DC from Taylorstown?”
”Not far,” Brad replies. He looks over at Ray, mildly curious, before glancing back out at the road. He opens his mouth, before shutting it again. Then, “you thinking about harassing Fick?”
”You said he was doing something there, wasn’t he?” Ray asks in lieu of stating the obvious. “I figure, things aren’t looking so hot, we might as well end this trip on a positive note.”
”And showing up unannounced on Fick’s doorstep is your solution,” Brad says thoughtfully. He doesn’t seem opposed to the idea, and Ray takes that for a positive sign. “It’s been a while since anyone from Bravo 2 has heard from him.”
”Then we’d be doing a public service,” Ray replies cheekily and he can feel Brad’s smile more than he can see it. His pimp shades block out most of the world around him and Ray is a-okay with that. “I think Walt would like the LT.”
Brad hums thoughtfully and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll call him tonight, if it’s not too late when we get to Columbus.”
Ray would point out that calling ahead would defeat the purpose of showing up unannounced, but he lets it slide. Walt might be onto something with the napping idea and if Brad needs Ray to keep him company, Ray has no doubts Brad won’t hesitate to wake him up.
- - -
It’s almost eleven when they make it to Columbus, but Walt got distracted watching two labs playing together at a rest stop on the way and neither Brad or Ray had the heart to tell him they had to keep moving.
Walt had smiled sheepishly and said, “I used to have a dog” as if that was explanation enough, but the words aren’t followed with sadness or regret. Just a fond little smile and a distant look on his face.
Brad gets them a double room, and Ray doesn’t think twice about crawling into the bed Walt has already claimed. He wonders if it’s weird that he wants to rub off against Brad but it’s Walt he’s choosing to willingly sleep with, before Ray decides it doesn’t matter.
If Walt has another nightmare - or simply another fit, whimpering and tugging at the sheets - then Ray wants to be by his side when it happens. Ray wants to protect Walt and keep him safe, even if he thinks Walt would be embarrassed and annoyed at him if he knew.
Walt is a Marine too, Ray has to remind himself, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that when his hair sticks up in the mornings and he looks so painfully young.
There’s no objections to Ray crawling under the covers with Walt though, no snide comments or quirk of the eyebrows from Brad. That Walt and Ray are going to share a bed seems to have been accepted easily between the three of them and Ray is really kind of alright with that.
- - -
There’s anxiety rolling off of Walt in waves, despite the fact he does his best to hide it. That he can barely manage to finish his breakfast from McDonald’s is the first obvious sign, but Ray would be able to feel it in his gut even if it wasn’t.
Ray’s starting to wonder if there’s more to these bone-deep reactions he’s been feeling in his system over the last few days, but beyond the occasional spark of sorrow or arousal, he’s not entirely sure that he minds. He feels so much more aware of things now, and that’s got to be a good thing, right?
It’s why he knows Walt’s so torn up inside despite his timid smile and the easy way he toys with his seatbelt strap or straw. He wants to do something to make Walt feel better, anything, but Ray doesn’t know what. Maybe these weeks of quarantine and being on the road - and not having any Ripped Fuel - have fucked with Ray more than he thought, because he feels absolutely helpless to do anything.
Walt smiles at Ray even though it doesn’t hide the tense set in his eyes or the ache and worry in his heart. He doesn’t say anything when Ray ruffles his hair, but Ray’s pretty sure for the few moments Ray’s fingers are rubbing along his scalp, he almost feels okay.
- - -
The address Brad has for Walt’s brother is an older building, but the paint is fresh and there is weatherworn wicker furniture on the wrap around porch. Brad parks at the end of the street, far enough away to not be in the way but close enough Walt can watch the house quietly. Brad turns off the ignition and sits back in his seat, but he doesn’t say a word while they wait.
Ray feels like he could go insane in this silence but he follows Brad’s lead. He hates the anxious feeling that’s practically penetrating his entire being and Ray can’t sit still, drumming his fingers on his thighs and tapping his foot on the floor of Brad’s jeep. “You want one of us to come with you, Walt?” Ray asks, and he’s surprised by how steady his tone manages to be.
”No,” Walt says quietly, but his tone is firm. “This is something I have to do by myself.” He unclicks his seatbelt without moving from his seat, but it’s a start. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, Ray watching him in the rearview mirror carefully. Finally, Walt smiles thinly. “I would really appreciate if you two maybe stayed here in case it doesn’t go well, though.”
”We’re not going to leave you, Walt,” Brad says quietly. His tone is earnest, his expression matching, and it’s amazing what it seems to do to help Walt relax into his seat and smile more honestly. “We’ll be right here until you get back.”
”Thank you,” Walt replies, even quieter than before. He doesn’t make eye contact, but his sweet smile doesn’t fade, and finally he pushes open the back door to Brad’s Jeep and slides out into the street. It takes him a moment to close it, holding on and wavering in his determination, but slowly, he closes it behind him and starts across the street.
Ray watches him go quietly and he wonders if this is what his momma felt like when he told her he was going to join the Marines and left. There’s an ache in his heart, some stupid mix of pride and concern and a heavy exhaustion that infects his entire being.
Walt is still visible when he makes it up the porch steps of the little blue home, and he only hesitates for a moment before knocking. It makes Ray’s breath catch in his throat, but eventually the door is opened. The conversation seems to drag out slowly, Walt standing firm and the teenage boy he’s talking to looking unconvinced.
”Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Ray asks, biting at his lip as he voices his concern. He’s so stupidly worried and he doesn’t even know why. It shouldn’t be this painful to watch Walt being left outside with the door open while the kid goes back inside, presumably to find someone to tell Walt’s story.
Not once does Walt look over his shoulder at them. He doesn’t shift his weight from foot to foot or play with the hem of the too large Mariners shirt that Brad bought him what feels like a lifetime ago. Like this, it’s not hard to imagine Walt is really a Marine at all. It’s a strangely comforting thought and Ray thinks that maybe things will go alright after all.
”Walt,” Brad starts, but he doesn’t say anything else. They watch as an older man comes to the door, as tense with surprise as Walt is, before Walt is pulled into an embrace and lead inside. Brad doesn’t speak again until the door is shut behind him and he relaxes back into his seat. “Walt can take care of himself.”
”I know that,” Ray offers weakly. Because he does. Walt lied to the government so he could go to war when he was sixteen, is from a completely different generation from either Brad or Ray. But it doesn’t mean Ray has to be comfortable with the thought of Walt fighting this battle on his own.
”I know,” Brad says, mirroring Ray’s words. He moves in Ray’s peripherals, startling Ray’s attentions towards him. Brad reaches out slowly, his fingers skimming out to brush the tips over the denim covering Ray’s thigh. He squeezes once, gently, before tucking his hand back into his pocket.
Ray smiles uneasily, still tense, but he takes Brad’s offer of comfort for what it’s worth.
- - -
They’re still waiting for Walt when Ray is startled by the loud buzz of Brad’s phone.
Brad doesn’t look remotely sheepish or apologetic and he pulls his smartphone out of his pocket to check it. “Sometimes I wonder if you were wrong, before.”
Ray looks over at him and quirks an eyebrow. “About what, exactly?”
”Getting your brains back after you leave the Corps,” Brad replies. He pauses, and there’s a slight wrinkle to his nose. “Nate just replied to my text with a smiley face.”
Ray leans over to see, and Brad tips the phone to give him better access. Sure enough, the text from the LT reads You’re always welcome to stop by. :). “Huh,” Ray says. “I have been known to be wrong.”
”No shit,” Brad says, but his tone is easy. He pulls his phone closer and starts to tap at the keys with his thumbs.
”Oh, fuck you,” Ray replies without heat. He doesn’t startle again when Brad’s phone goes off, and Brad doesn’t offer any further insight into his conversation with Nate. Ray doesn’t mind. It makes it easier to focus on Walt.
- - -
Ray is quietly lamenting the fact he would kill for a cigarette but he’s not willing to ask Brad to spare ten minutes for them to find a gas station to buy some. He doesn’t know how the fuck he could forget to buy some on the way out of Nevada, but he knew smoking through two packs with Brad would come back to bite him in the ass somehow.
Not that he has much else to do besides bemoan his own mistakes, because Brad is content to sit in tense silence and Ray can only ask about the guys from Bravo 2 and sing so many Avril Lavigne songs before Brad snaps and shoots him. Not that Ray thinks Brad has a gun in his Jeep, but he’s sure Brad would find one just to unload it into Ray’s skull.
Which is of course, completely untrue. But Ray has to keep himself entertained somehow the longer they wait for Walt and imagining the various ways Brad could kill him isn’t the most fucked up thing he’s ever done. Now, if Ray starts to wonder if being dead is the only way he can get his hands - or lips - on Brad’s cock, it would probably be in the top ten.
There’s a low thrum of anxiety keeping Ray on edge, and he’s ready to step out of the car to do some pushups or something to burn it out of his system when Walt finally emerges from the house. It’s been hours, Brad and Ray staying silently vigilante - and surprisingly enough, not alerting the neighbors enough to all the cops - and there’s a sudden rush of relief through Ray’s system at the sight of his bright shock of blond hair.
Walt makes his way over to them slowly, movements controlled and precise, and it’s not until Walt is almost close enough to touch the Jeep does Ray realize his eyes are wet and he’s trying so hard not to look crushed. He climbs into the Jeep with shaky fingers, completely ignoring the fact that the old man - Joseph - is standing on the porch and watching him go.
”Go,” Walt says quietly as he snaps his seatbelt shut. His voice trembles and he closes his eyes when Brad and Ray turn to look at him. “Please, Brad, just go. Anywhere but here.”
Brad doesn’t say a word when he keys on the ignition, and he guides his Jeep gently back into the street. He doesn’t ask where Walt wants to go, but judging by the way he’s trying so hard to hold himself together in the back seat, Ray doesn’t think it even matters.
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