The pairing is Ray/Ray, may god save my mortal soul.
Response to the Kaleidoscope Eyes Challenge over at ds Flashfic.
Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski have a couple of beers together. Let's see what happens... (by the way, I blame this fiction entirely on the problem of my not being able to come up with a reasonable way to get Benton Fraser drunk off his ass).
Big, huge thanks to my most wonderful betas: my dearest SnowFlake, who is infinitely patient and encouraging, who walks me through my fic issues step by step, who brings my fic in line and allows me to steal phrasing from her all the damn time. And lamardeuse, who lets me fling these last-minute beta jobs at her, and okays my characterization of the boys, and forgives me for making her enjoy Ray/Ray.
It was past midnight and becoming really obvious that by now they were arguing for the sake of arguing. Maybe because they didn't know how to do it any other way. Maybe because, after about the third beer, it got real easy, real comfortable, to argue like this. Vecchio knew Ray's triggers, didn't hesitate to push, and it was none of this passive-aggressive bullshit like with Fraser. This was the real deal, this was an attack, and this was something Ray knew how to deal with real good.
They had gone out with a bunch of the guys, but it had dwindled to just them. So caught up in arguing (arguing everything - the case, the precinct, the music, the beer) that they didn't even look up when Huey and Dewey edged away uneasily, like they were gonna be the ones blamed when the argument between Ray and Vecchio finally erupted into blows, and they killed each other, and Welsh found out that Huey and Dewey who were the ones who had left them to it.
But when Huey tried to break in ("I think it's time to call it a night, don’t you?"), all he got for his trouble was a raised hand from Ray who, furiously gesturing him away, never took his eyes off Vecchio as the two of them went back and forth, Ray leaning about as far forward as Vecchio was leaning back. Huey shrugged helplessly at Dewey, and the two of them headed out.
So now it was just Ray and Vecchio, and Ray made what he considered to be the ultimate proof of the current line of reasoning, and sat back in his chair, satisfied, taking a long pull from his beer. "Got it, Vecchio?"
"Bite me, Stanley." Vecchio finished his beer and gestured to the waitress for two more.
"Ooh," Ray exhaled, raising an eyebrow. "The Mountie never told me you were into that."
Vecchio smiled, slightly menacing. "Maybe the Mountie wanted to keep that little bit of information to himself."
"Oh, yeah," Ray said, tilting his chair back. "You and Fraser.” He snorted. “Never happen, Vecchio."
Vecchio accepted the two beers from the waitress and slid one over to Ray. "Aw, don't get all defensive, Stanley, it's just that he's pretty picky, you know?"
"Yeah," Ray said, grinning widely. So fucking satisfying, knowing that Vecchio would fight back and wouldn’t always be reasonable. "I know."
"You expect me to buy that he goes for trashy clothes and bleached hair?" Vecchio asked dryly.
"What, when really all he yearns for is silk shirts and…oh, that's right, no hair," Ray said, taking a gulp from his new beer. ""I mean, in your dreams, he does," he explained.
Vecchio set his beer bottle down on the table with a thump. "He wants you just about as much as he wants me."
"Yeah, and he wants you about as much as he wants that sister of yours," Ray shot back.
Vecchio's eyes flashed. "You leave my sister out of this, Kowalski, she ain't got nothing to do with it."
"You got that right," Ray murmured, taking another sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving Vecchio's for a second. There was a moment where the two of them just sat there looking at each other fiercely. There was a zing there, a connection, and Ray let his chair fall forward with a thump. "I gotta get out of here," he said, fumbling for his wallet.
"What's the problem, Stanley?" Vecchio asked, finishing his beer quick and adding some money to the bills Ray tossed on the table. "What are you in such a hurry for all of a sudden?"
"Nothing, no problem, I just gotta go." Ray stood and shoved his hands through his hair as he turned. He slid into his leather jacket as he headed for the door, taking long strides. He stood outside for a second, letting the cold air wash over him, trying to clear his head, because he was not doing this, was not doing this. There was not enough beer in the world for him to do this.
The music and voices of the bar spilled out into the street, and Ray half-turned to look over his shoulder as Vecchio came out the door, slipping into his cashmere overcoat. Vecchio didn’t look drunk. No way was Ray drunker than Vecchio. That coat looked soft. Fuck. He was not doing this.
"What's the deal, Kowalski, there a problem here I should know about?" Vecchio sounded amused more than anything else.
"Nothing, there's no deal, no problem." Ray jammed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, and set off down the dark street, heading to where he was pretty sure he'd left his car. He was taking deep breaths to clear his head, and muttering under his breath, "Don't, don't, do not do this."
Vecchio trailed behind him. "It's not Francesca, you don't have a thing for Frannie." Ray glanced back. Vecchio was smiling slightly, obviously enjoying this. "So what, is it Benny?"
Ray just walked faster. "Let it go, Vecchio," he said firmly. Too many beers and not enough dates lately, that was obviously the problem. No way he and Vecchio were connecting. He threw a glance at Vecchio out of the corner of his eye. No way Vecchio was bent.
"No, I don't think I will," Vecchio said consideringly. He took several long strides and caught up with Ray, his breath making white plumes in the cold night air. He strode along beside Ray, hands in his pockets, head tilted, trying to catch a look at Ray’s face. Ray ducked his head further. "C'mon, what's the deal here, you jealous or something?"
"Yeah, right, I'm jealous, jealous of who, Vecchio, jealous of you?" Ray shot him another sideways look. "I don't fucking think so."
"You know, if you're jealous, you can just say you're jealous…"
"Let it go, can't you let anything go? Jeez, you learn that from the Mountie?" Ray turned down the alley where his car was parked.
"Nah, Kowalski, that's all me." Vecchio's smug tone just fucking grated at Ray.
"You need to shut the fuck up," Ray growled, finally stopping, swinging around to face Vecchio, fists clenched.
"Yeah?" There was an edge to Vecchio's voice and he stopped, pulled his hands out of his pockets, smiled dangerously at Ray.
"Look - I swear to God, I will punch you right in the face."
"Right, Kowalski, you do that."
Ray turned his head sharply to one side, looking for control. "Why don't you listen to me?"
"Why don't you start making some sense?" Vecchio suggested, his eyes glinting. Like he wanted this. Fuck. No way.
Ray swung on him, his hands tangled in Vecchio's coat, slamming him against the wall. Got right up in his face, and Vecchio first glared, then grinned, and Ray was just gonna wipe that grin right off his face, was just gonna smack it right off, was just gonna…
Vecchio's hands had somehow slipped inside Ray's leather jacket, were warm through his shirt. "What are you gonna do, Kowalski?" Vecchio said low, his voice smooth.
And Ray wasn't punching Vecchio, he was kissing Vecchio, Vecchio's mouth was under his very suddenly, slick and hot. Vecchio was kissing him back. Jesus. Ray's hands were still clutching at Vecchio's coat, and the blood was pounding in his ears. This was something more than just getting off on arguing. Vecchio was running his warm hands up Ray's back, and maybe Ray had Vecchio up against the wall, but it felt like Vecchio had him trapped.
It was quick, the change, quicker than he could keep up with. Ray was dizzy, from the booze, from the scent of Vecchio's aftershave (expensive, it smelled expensive), and the hot taste of Vecchio's mouth didn't serve to steady him. It was late, the alley was dark, and he didn't do anything but follow when Vecchio tugged him further back into the shadows.
He stumbled a little and he didn't like that, so he clutched at Vecchio's coat tighter and pressed himself up against Vecchio's body harder. And when Vecchio moaned low against his mouth, dizzy suddenly became something good, dizzy suddenly became something he could handle. Not enough alcohol in his system to be okay with this, but too much to stop, apparently. Because he was all over Vecchio, and it should have been making his skin crawl, getting up close and personal with the style pig, the kiss-up, the guy he used to be. But instead it was something good, it was something hot, and when Vecchio wound his hand in Ray’s hair and held on, well, that was it.
His jeans were too tight, he was so hard in there it hurt, and he couldn’t help himself from humping up against Vecchio. He felt Vecchio smiling against his lips, but when he pulled away from the kiss, Vecchio was panting for breath, so that was okay, then. “You got a problem, Vecchio?” he managed.
“Yeah,” Vecchio said in this breathless voice that just turned Ray on so hard, “You.” And Vecchio tightened his hold and tilted Ray's head, slid his tongue back into Ray's mouth. Christ. This was bad, this was so freaking bad. Only it wasn’t, it was good, better than it had any right to be. And Ray didn’t even like Vecchio, and Vecchio was straight, only maybe he wasn’t so straight, or maybe he just wasn’t as sober Ray thought he was. All the working brain cells in Ray’s head were yelling at him to fucking stop this crazy shit before it went any further. But it wasn’t his brain that was in charge here, and his dick wanted to be up against Vecchio or better yet, in Vecchio’s hand, and hey, wasn’t that a fine idea.
Only no, no, it wasn’t a fine idea, but too late, too late, Ray had already grabbed hold of Vecchio’s hand, extricated it from somewhere in the area of his ass. Vecchio made a disgruntled sound, but that turned into a soft groan moments later when Ray found himself pressing Vecchio’s hand firmly against his seriously hard dick. For a fleeting second, all the bad things that could come of this passed through his mind: this was Vecchio/Vecchio was straight/he had fucking been Vecchio/he hated Vecchio/sex in a freaking alley...
It got lost in the haze of jesus, he knows what he’s doing. Because Vecchio was coordinating things really well, one hand still in his hair, the other hand moving steadily against Ray's dick, and all the while kissing him breathless. It took an immense effort of will to tear his mouth away. “Vecchio,” he gasped, trying to get his spinning head to compile a full sentence.
The corner of Vecchio’s mouth, still wet from the kissing, quirked up. “Stanley,” he responded, but his voice wasn’t anywhere near steady, and he was moving his hips against Ray’s.
“Don’t call me that, asshole.” If he could just catch his breath, he could maybe think for a second.
Vecchio’s eyes softened just a little. “Kowalski,” he murmured. “Your hands...”
His hands? Which had, in fact, somehow slid inside Vecchio’s long coat (cashmere, yes, and just as soft as it looked), and were planted firmly on his ass, and seemed to (somehow, through no clear decision of his own) be tugging Vecchio closer, closer. Ray pulled his hands away immediately, and stumbled backwards. The air around him seemed colder than before, and he sucked in deep breaths of it. It felt good against his fiery cheeks and he shook his head to clear it.
“Okay, this just can't be good,” he managed to get out, just before Vecchio’s hands were on his chest, pushing him backwards. He hit the wall, deep in shadows, and said, “What the fuck...” in a strangled voice before Vecchio’s hands were swiftly unbuttoning his jeans, really fucking quick, and suddenly Vecchio’s hand was inside his jeans, Jesus Christ, was stroking his cock, which was betraying him in a very big way, thrusting into Vecchio’s hand (Vecchio, who he didn’t even like. Vecchio, who was annoying and conceited and really fucking good with his hands).
Oh, man. He was so screwed.
Vecchio was jerking him roughly, and it had been too long, too damn long. Guys did it differently, guys knew how rough to be, just this side of too much. Fuck. It had been too damn long. And Vecchio was right up in his face, but different, now, watching him intently, enjoying the fuck out of this.
No way. No way he was gonna let Vecchio get the upper...hand, here. He was screwed already, was never gonna live this one down, he had to do something to maintain the right…? Maintain his own? Whatever. Get Vecchio fucking off and wipe that look off his face.
Anything to wipe that look off his face.
So he tilted his head back to lean against the wall and pushed his hips out at Vecchio. Watched him through slitted eyes, and breathed out a low moan through slightly parted lips.
Vecchio’s grip on his cock tightened slightly. “Kowalski, you’re kind of a tease, you know that?”
“Yeah?” he asked, tugging on Vecchio’s hips, bringing him even closer, and nudging his leg between Vecchio's. He rocked forward a little, and slid his hand up around the back of Vecchio’s head. The fine hair was soft to the touch, and Ray liked it when Vecchio shivered under his hand. Ray drew him in slowly, letting his eyes blink lazily, and Vecchio wasn’t smiling any more. He was breathing heavy and when Ray’s lips finally touched his, he moaned into Ray’s mouth.
Ray kissed him long, and he was dizzy again, maybe from the beer, maybe from the kisses, maybe from Vecchio's hand, still steadily working his dick. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was moving up against Vecchio, and it was a shock when Vecchio tore his mouth away.
"Kowalski," he gasped. "Jesus, yeah," and Ray rocked forward with his leg, wanting to hear that gasp again, wanting to hear Vecchio fucking beg for it. Vecchio's hands tightened, pulling Ray's hair till it almost hurt, tightening on his dick just right. Vecchio buried his face up against Ray's leather jacket and shuddered against him. The long, low moan he made as he came was enough to make Ray's hands clench, enough to make him jerk and come, right in Vecchio's hand.
He sagged back against the wall, Vecchio still up close against him. He took a long, steadying breath through his nose, smelling expensive aftershave and sweat right up close. Vecchio, resting his head on Ray's shoulder, groaned and lifted his head slowly. "Okay, maybe not so much a tease, per se…" he said slowly.
Ray looked at Vecchio and Vecchio looked as shattered as he felt, and he couldn't help grinning. Vecchio grinned back and then they were laughing. Christ, this was...it was...well, it was something, without being a huge big deal. Which was not to say it wasn’t a big deal, him and Vecchio, doing...what they just did, there in the alley. Because weird, right? Him and Vecchio? But they were still them, it didn’t have to turn into some deep and meaningful freaking romance here, because god knows he didn’t even particularly like the guy. It was just that they argued real good, and that got his blood pumping. And it had been, you know, a really long time since anyone had gotten him that hot, that fast.
Vecchio dug in his pocket for a handkerchief, wiped off his hand, made an abortive effort to clean off his pants, then tossed it to Ray. He adjusted himself with a grimace. "Jesus, Kowalski, these were damn expensive pants."
Ray busied cleaning up, tucking himself back into his jeans. He flicked a glance at Vecchio. Maybe this had been a bad idea, but maybe not. Vecchio seemed to be cool with it. “Maybe next time you could control yourself a little bit more,” he suggested. “Wait till we get out of the alley, at least.”
Vecchio adjusted his coat, cast a quick glance back down the alley before stepping out of the shadows. “What, you more of a backseat of the car sorta guy?”
“Nah, just more of a ‘don’t get busted for public sex’ kinda guy.” Ray dug his keys out of his pocket as he walked.
"You okay to drive?" Vecchio asked.
Ray stopped at the car, glared at him. "Yeah, I'm fucking okay to drive."
"Okay, just making sure." Vecchio held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.
"I had three freaking beers over, like, three hours. Besides which, you got a car? ‘Cause I don’t remember you having a car.”
Vecchio glared at him, but there wasn’t any real force behind it. “I had a car, they gave you my car, remember? You fucking destroyed my car.”
“Technically it was a serial arsonist who destroyed your car...”
“Technically you drove my car into Lake Michigan.”
“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “I kind of did.” This didn’t feel done, this felt weird. Because he didn’t even like Vecchio, but...
"Kind of?" Vecchio exploded.
Ray pushed Vecchio up against the side of the car, then, and kissed him, good and hard. And he had just gotten off, but his dick still gave a twitch, and he still felt the same flash of heat that he’d felt when he first kissed Vecchio back there. He drew away slowly. He looked into Vecchio’s eyes (which were really fucking green from this close up), took a deep breath, and murmured, “Just get in the fucking car, okay, Vecchio?”
Vecchio blinked. "I - yeah. Okay."
"Okay." Deep breath, Kowalski. This was just Vecchio here, this was no big thing. He strode around to his own side of the car, really kind of cold now that he wasn't all pressed up against Vecchio. He got to his own side, unlocked the door, then looked over the roof of the GTO. "You staying with me tonight, Vecchio?" His voice came out rougher than he intended.
Vecchio looked at him steadily. "Yeah, Stanley, I'm staying."
"Good," Ray said, breathing suddenly more easily, as the two of them got into the car. "I'm tired of carting your ass all over town. And stop calling me Stanley."
"Carting my ass?" Vecchio exclaimed. "You wouldn't have to, if I still had my car, which was a collector's item, by the way, if you'd managed to keep my car in one piece for more than one fucking day…"
"Shut up about the car, will you?" Ray settled himself behind the wheel, looked over at Vecchio. For some reason, his fingers just itched to touch the fine hairs on the back of his head again. He shook his head, clutched the wheel tightly.
"It was more than just a car, Stanley," Vecchio responded.
"No, this is more than just a car, Vecchio," Ray said as he started the GTO. He grinned at Vecchio's intake of breath, bracing himself for the argument to come.
Yeah. They were okay.
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