fic: "So Here We Are"
recipient: sephirothflame
author: finite-farfalla
title: So Here We Are
pairing: Ray/Walt
rating: PG-13
word count: ~1200
summary/warnings: schmoopy light banter with mild amount of teeth-rotting substance and angst hidden there somewhere, proceed with caution
author notes: Uhm, well, I admit this is not exactly faithful to the prompt. But I hope you like it! Also, thanks very much to nherizu and kurodo-isaki for the super quick beta.
"Five down, a-s-s-h-o-l-e."
"Seventeen across, now what?"
"Two across, n-o-t impressed."
"Seven down, d-i-c-k."
Sighing, Walt ceases his typing. "Alright, Ray. Do you have something to say to me?"
"Not really," Ray says, mouth twisting. He’s breezing through the Times crossword puzzle, which is easy on Monday and gets progressively harder as the week advances. Today is Sunday. Ray’s favorite day. He’d normally spend five hours finishing the puzzle, then gloat it to everyone present to prove how smarter he is actually from you. But this time, he’s not even reading the questions. "But, isn't it Sunday today?"
Ray is trying to prove a point, Walt knows, but he also wants to know if Ray’s colossal circumnavigation is going somewhere anytime soon. "Yes, and?"
"You're working,” Ray accuses.
Walt pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel the beginning of a headache brewing at the back of his head. "That's because US Military gave me enough paperworks to last five life times."
"It's Sunday!" Ray brandishes the front page of the Times which says Sunday to emphasis his point. Sitting at the other end of the dining table from Ray, Walt can read the small prints clearly.
"You said that on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday too. I really need to get this done."
Ray raises his brows, not impressed. "God rested on the seventh day."
"Did you really just use that one on me?” Walt groans. It’s something his mom used to say to his overworked father, Walt remembers telling Ray the story, little snippets of childhood they often trade after a good fuck, lying on sweaty sheets and riding out the endorphin high; he also remembers telling Ray it never works. “Well, he finished his good deed for the universe on the sixth day."
Ray makes a show of folding his newspaper and stands. He crosses the kitchen, heading out to the living room.
“Where are you going?” Walt asks after him.
“I’m doing colossal sulking in our room!” Ray yells back.
---
Ray’s colossal sulk lasts exactly three hours and seven minutes, which gives Walt plenty of time to finish some of his more urgent paperworks. It’s daunting, the amount of paperworks needed to keep a platoon running. He doesn’t know how Brad manages to do this and keep his Iceman-cool visage.
Ray plants himself on Walt’s back, leaning over him as Walt completes a sentence. He buries his nose at the crook of Walt’s neck. "When?" he asks softly.
Walt flexes his shoulder, and Ray snakes his hand to Walt’s chest, running it up and down along the dips and swells of hard muscles. Walt catches on fast. "I'm not sure. Scuttlebut agrees on early April."
"That's less than two months."
Walt knows Ray is nothing sort of a special genius. Walt doesn’t need a fully completed Times crossword puzzle or Ray making a right turn to believe that. With anyone else, he’d need to explain that the two months can change anytime. A seemingly innocuous email can shorten what time they already have.
"I know,” Walt says.
Ray uses his other hand to pressure the side of Walt’s face, willing him to face the angle Ray wants. Ray kisses him, long and drawn out. This is Ray making a point, trying to get across words that can never see the light of day.
Walt isn’t an 8-to-5 kind of guy, has never been. He’s considered leaving the military after completing his four years, to have this life with Ray Person. When you get out of the military, you get your brain back, Ray eloquently put once. For some people, it might be true. But for him, life outside of military is one big black hole he doesn’t know how to tread.
"Ray," Walt warns when Ray breaks the kiss and moves with intent. He mouths the groove between Walt’s jaw and adam’s apple. His body bends over Walt’s who still sits on the dining chair, hand brushing the front of Walt’s jeans.
"I'm claiming my prerogative. You said I could suck your cock over Popsicle any time.” He pressures Walt’s crotch with the heel of his palm, not enough to feel, but hard enough to elicit a full body shudder from Walt.
Heat raises to Walt’s neck. He knows he’s blushing. His body doesn’t reach like this with anyone else -it’s Ray turning him on with just words and barely a touch.
"I was drunk that one time. And you kept making that lewd thing with your tongue.”
"What do you want, Walt?" Ray speaks against Walt’s skin.
If this is a ploy to removes him from his paperworks, it definitely works effectively. "I, uh," Walt falters. "I don't know. You tell me."
Ray makes short work of Walt’s belt buckle and buttons, exposing the dark colored briefs Walt’s wearing. He skims his fingers over the beginning of a bulge. "I want to lick you all over, making you so wet and shiny with my spit,” Ray says, moving up to bite the tip of Walt’s ear lightly. “I want to hear you moan and beg. Then only after that, I will swallow you, again, again, and again just to hear you make that keening half-sob-half-groan, until you come down my throat. Do you want it, Walt? Do you want my mouth on your cock?"
"Fuck, yeah." Walt groans, feeling punched out and completely overwhelmed. "Do it, Ray."
"Better than the Times crossword puzzle.” Ray grins widely.
---
After, they move to their room, sun slanting in just at the right angle to light a patch over the small of Ray’s back. Walt traces the skin, fascinated. It’s three in the afternoon, but, fuck if they can’t do this for at least a few hours more.
"Y'know, I'm thinking of getting a pet," Ray begins. He’s lying on his stomach, face tucks sideway to face away from Walt.
Walt stills his hand. "Golden Retriever is good idea."
"I'm thinking reptile, maybe a chameleon."
"Do you even know what a chameleon eats?"
Ray snorts. "Point."
“Hmmm,” Walt says, getting up to sit on the bed. "We should get a cat. Mary's cat is about the deliver her newest litter."
"Which Mary?" Ray shifts, rolling his body to face Walt. He raises his brows.
Walt smiles, amused. "That girl who works at the cafe down the block, Mary, you know, the one with dreadlocks and rings."
"The one who makes googoo eyes at you everytime we walk in?" Ray asks incredulously.
"Apparently she's quite an amusing and eloquent story teller." Walt nods sagely. Women, even one like Mary pays attention to things he has to say. It’s your innocent corn-fed face, Ray informed him. But Walt believes it has more to do with asking for your coffee politely instead of demanding it and not slobbering caffeine all over your chin in public.
"Did you flirt with her knowing she had no chance?"
"Who said I wasn't considering letting her suck my cock?" Walt cants his head, playing along.
"Because RayRay sucks cock better than any living girl?"
Walt’s trying hard not to laugh. "You've got it easy, because I’ve already loved your ass since Iraq."
Ray’s answering smile has too much teeth.
END
And because I have no life:
author: finite-farfalla
title: So Here We Are
pairing: Ray/Walt
rating: PG-13
word count: ~1200
summary/warnings: schmoopy light banter with mild amount of teeth-rotting substance and angst hidden there somewhere, proceed with caution
author notes: Uhm, well, I admit this is not exactly faithful to the prompt. But I hope you like it! Also, thanks very much to nherizu and kurodo-isaki for the super quick beta.
"Five down, a-s-s-h-o-l-e."
"Seventeen across, now what?"
"Two across, n-o-t impressed."
"Seven down, d-i-c-k."
Sighing, Walt ceases his typing. "Alright, Ray. Do you have something to say to me?"
"Not really," Ray says, mouth twisting. He’s breezing through the Times crossword puzzle, which is easy on Monday and gets progressively harder as the week advances. Today is Sunday. Ray’s favorite day. He’d normally spend five hours finishing the puzzle, then gloat it to everyone present to prove how smarter he is actually from you. But this time, he’s not even reading the questions. "But, isn't it Sunday today?"
Ray is trying to prove a point, Walt knows, but he also wants to know if Ray’s colossal circumnavigation is going somewhere anytime soon. "Yes, and?"
"You're working,” Ray accuses.
Walt pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel the beginning of a headache brewing at the back of his head. "That's because US Military gave me enough paperworks to last five life times."
"It's Sunday!" Ray brandishes the front page of the Times which says Sunday to emphasis his point. Sitting at the other end of the dining table from Ray, Walt can read the small prints clearly.
"You said that on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday too. I really need to get this done."
Ray raises his brows, not impressed. "God rested on the seventh day."
"Did you really just use that one on me?” Walt groans. It’s something his mom used to say to his overworked father, Walt remembers telling Ray the story, little snippets of childhood they often trade after a good fuck, lying on sweaty sheets and riding out the endorphin high; he also remembers telling Ray it never works. “Well, he finished his good deed for the universe on the sixth day."
Ray makes a show of folding his newspaper and stands. He crosses the kitchen, heading out to the living room.
“Where are you going?” Walt asks after him.
“I’m doing colossal sulking in our room!” Ray yells back.
---
Ray’s colossal sulk lasts exactly three hours and seven minutes, which gives Walt plenty of time to finish some of his more urgent paperworks. It’s daunting, the amount of paperworks needed to keep a platoon running. He doesn’t know how Brad manages to do this and keep his Iceman-cool visage.
Ray plants himself on Walt’s back, leaning over him as Walt completes a sentence. He buries his nose at the crook of Walt’s neck. "When?" he asks softly.
Walt flexes his shoulder, and Ray snakes his hand to Walt’s chest, running it up and down along the dips and swells of hard muscles. Walt catches on fast. "I'm not sure. Scuttlebut agrees on early April."
"That's less than two months."
Walt knows Ray is nothing sort of a special genius. Walt doesn’t need a fully completed Times crossword puzzle or Ray making a right turn to believe that. With anyone else, he’d need to explain that the two months can change anytime. A seemingly innocuous email can shorten what time they already have.
"I know,” Walt says.
Ray uses his other hand to pressure the side of Walt’s face, willing him to face the angle Ray wants. Ray kisses him, long and drawn out. This is Ray making a point, trying to get across words that can never see the light of day.
Walt isn’t an 8-to-5 kind of guy, has never been. He’s considered leaving the military after completing his four years, to have this life with Ray Person. When you get out of the military, you get your brain back, Ray eloquently put once. For some people, it might be true. But for him, life outside of military is one big black hole he doesn’t know how to tread.
"Ray," Walt warns when Ray breaks the kiss and moves with intent. He mouths the groove between Walt’s jaw and adam’s apple. His body bends over Walt’s who still sits on the dining chair, hand brushing the front of Walt’s jeans.
"I'm claiming my prerogative. You said I could suck your cock over Popsicle any time.” He pressures Walt’s crotch with the heel of his palm, not enough to feel, but hard enough to elicit a full body shudder from Walt.
Heat raises to Walt’s neck. He knows he’s blushing. His body doesn’t reach like this with anyone else -it’s Ray turning him on with just words and barely a touch.
"I was drunk that one time. And you kept making that lewd thing with your tongue.”
"What do you want, Walt?" Ray speaks against Walt’s skin.
If this is a ploy to removes him from his paperworks, it definitely works effectively. "I, uh," Walt falters. "I don't know. You tell me."
Ray makes short work of Walt’s belt buckle and buttons, exposing the dark colored briefs Walt’s wearing. He skims his fingers over the beginning of a bulge. "I want to lick you all over, making you so wet and shiny with my spit,” Ray says, moving up to bite the tip of Walt’s ear lightly. “I want to hear you moan and beg. Then only after that, I will swallow you, again, again, and again just to hear you make that keening half-sob-half-groan, until you come down my throat. Do you want it, Walt? Do you want my mouth on your cock?"
"Fuck, yeah." Walt groans, feeling punched out and completely overwhelmed. "Do it, Ray."
"Better than the Times crossword puzzle.” Ray grins widely.
---
After, they move to their room, sun slanting in just at the right angle to light a patch over the small of Ray’s back. Walt traces the skin, fascinated. It’s three in the afternoon, but, fuck if they can’t do this for at least a few hours more.
"Y'know, I'm thinking of getting a pet," Ray begins. He’s lying on his stomach, face tucks sideway to face away from Walt.
Walt stills his hand. "Golden Retriever is good idea."
"I'm thinking reptile, maybe a chameleon."
"Do you even know what a chameleon eats?"
Ray snorts. "Point."
“Hmmm,” Walt says, getting up to sit on the bed. "We should get a cat. Mary's cat is about the deliver her newest litter."
"Which Mary?" Ray shifts, rolling his body to face Walt. He raises his brows.
Walt smiles, amused. "That girl who works at the cafe down the block, Mary, you know, the one with dreadlocks and rings."
"The one who makes googoo eyes at you everytime we walk in?" Ray asks incredulously.
"Apparently she's quite an amusing and eloquent story teller." Walt nods sagely. Women, even one like Mary pays attention to things he has to say. It’s your innocent corn-fed face, Ray informed him. But Walt believes it has more to do with asking for your coffee politely instead of demanding it and not slobbering caffeine all over your chin in public.
"Did you flirt with her knowing she had no chance?"
"Who said I wasn't considering letting her suck my cock?" Walt cants his head, playing along.
"Because RayRay sucks cock better than any living girl?"
Walt’s trying hard not to laugh. "You've got it easy, because I’ve already loved your ass since Iraq."
Ray’s answering smile has too much teeth.
END
And because I have no life: