my Ray/Ray Celebration of Love post, 2/2
Title: Finally Get What I Deserve
Author: belmanoir
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Rating: R
Warnings: angst, fluff, run-on sentences
Word count: 1,183
Summary: The day that Ray realizes Vecchio isn't going to leave him, he wakes up with a hangover.
Author's Notes: Not a songfic, but inspired by the Mountain Goats song "Oceanographer's Choice." Unbeta'd; I apologize in advance for any errors, typos, or rambling. Feedback welcome!
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I am making no money off this.

Vecchio doesn't take it seriously, Ray knows that. He wishes he could be the same---just think, hey, we both miss Fraser and that's all this is. But Ray doesn't do casual, which means that when Vecchio leaves him Ray will be left to stare at the damn TV and play the radio too loud and pretend that he doesn't notice the silence where Vecchio's voice is supposed to be. But he will notice, just like he still notices the things Stella would have said, or Fraser. Vecchio's got a nice voice, even if he can go from zero to bitchy in the blink of an eye. Maybe because of that---which is one of those thoughts Ray tries not to have, because being turned on by someone's flaws is a sure sign of impending heartbreak.

For a while after Stella left, he slept with all the lights on because the dark reminded him of her, that's how pathetic he is. He doesn't want to go back to that again, but he knows he'll have to. One of these days he'll be running and there'll be no one behind him, not Fraser with his uniform or Vecchio with his gun, he'll be alone, no backup, no nothing.

So he always shoves a little too violently and squeezes a little too tight and demands to be fucked a little harder because he's pissed at Vecchio for not being as stupid and needy as he is. He ignores the voice in his head---which sounds a lot like Stella---that tells him it'll be his own fault when Vecchio leaves. Whatever. It's always his fault, he knows that by now. That just pisses him off more.

###

The day that Ray realizes Vecchio isn't going to leave him, he wakes up with a hangover. There's crap all over the floor, not just t-shirts and stuff but crap that isn't usually on the floor. Ray remembers vaguely that he and Vecchio got drunk and had sex on the floor and somehow actually knocked Ray's cheap particle-board dresser over. Vecchio's not next to him, which even Ray knows doesn't mean anything, but his head hurts and he thinks Vecchio should be there so at least he'd have someone to whine to. He stumbles out of the room and there's Vecchio in the kitchen scrambling eggs, a plate of bacon already on the counter. The smell makes him gag but he knows he'll feel better after he eats, and anyway that's not the important part.

The important part is that Vecchio is bitching into the phone, "Frannie, why are you bothering me on Saturday morning, I have a headache, I just took four aspirin---No I will not babysit for you next Thursday---like I care you got a date, maybe I got a date---yeah, yeah actually, I'm taking Kowalski out for his birthday, how do you not know that anyway?---he was only your brother for a year--- no, he does not want to babysit your kids for his birthday, I'm taking him dancing---" He rolls his eyes at Ray and grins, like this is just normal Frannie idiocy and what he said is no big deal.

But it is a big deal, because it means Vecchio bothered to look up his birthday, since Ray knows he never told him and Frannie apparently doesn't remember. And it means that Vecchio is out to his family, or at least to Frannie, which sure as hell was not the case when Ray was Vecchio. So it's a recent thing, maybe a since-Ray thing.

And it means he wants to take Ray dancing. Ray must just be standing there staring, because when Vecchio finally hangs up he looks hard at Ray and says, "You okay? I made greasy breakfast."

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine," Ray says. "We're going dancing on Thursday?"

Vecchio leans back against the counter, all easy, and gives Ray this confident asshole grin. Ray would bet a million dollars he doesn't have that Vecchio picked up that trick in Vegas. It's got Bookman written all over it and it means Vecchio is nervous. "Unless you got other plans, Kowalski. What, you don't love me anymore? I'm crushed."

"Yeah, got it in one, Vecchio," Ray says. "I was thinking of asking out Huey for my birthday, dontcha know." He takes a deep breath. "No, dancing's cool. I love dancing."

Vecchio relaxes, which means he looks more anxious. It's one of the many weird-ass things about Vecchio that Ray has been trying real hard not to love. "Okay. I thought it sounded like one of Fraser's good ideas, but sometimes it's hard to tell."

Maybe Ray doesn't have to try so hard. "You asked Fraser where to take me for my birthday?"

Vecchio gives Ray a weird look, like he can't figure out why that would be surprising at all. Like asking your best friend where to take the guy you're banging on his birthday and then stressing about it isn't a boyfriend thing. A serious thing. And, Ray thinks, it might mean Vecchio's not carrying a torch for Fraser, which is a shocker. "Yeah, so?" Vecchio says. "He's known you longer than I have. Besides, Fraser's like having your own personal Dear Abby, except with more Inuit stories. Course, usually I don't take his advice, but then things go to hell. He ever tell you about the time I decided this gun runner was my soulmate and offered to let her escape, and then it turned out she was a Fed and I almost got busted by Internal Affairs?"

"No, he never did," Ray says, coming over and sliding a knee between Vecchio's legs. "Course, for you almost getting busted by I.A. is just how you know you're still alive." He leans into Vecchio, reaching behind him for a strip of bacon. It's extra crispy, just the way Ray likes it. "Mmm. If I didn't think I'd throw up, I would so blow you right now."

Vecchio laughs. "I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, Kowalski."

"When did we start being romantic?" He means to sound sarcastic, but he just sounds insecure as hell.

Vecchio's still snickering. "Yeah, I was gonna forward you the memo, but then I didn't, 'cause I wouldn't want you to strain anything."

Ray narrows his eyes. "Har har, joke's on you, Vecchio. I give great romance." He does. He's the master of candlelit dinners and slow smiles and soft jazz and kisses that don't have to lead anywhere. He just didn't do any of that with Vecchio, because you can't do romance when you're trying to shove all your actual feelings to the back of the drawer. It's like trying to dance without bending your spine.

Vecchio laughs harder.

"Shut up and give me the aspirin, asshole."

"I think I might swoon, you silver-tongued devil," Vecchio says.

"You are not even gonna know what hit you," Ray promises, plotting Vecchio's death by romance and wondering which of his shirts he should wear on Thursday.