lynnmonster (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lynnmonster) wrote in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} ficlet_frenzy,@ 2004-08-24 21:36:00 |
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Crossed Wires - due South, Ray/Ray, NC-17, 3565 words
aerye requested Ray/Ray: "And if I said no?"
My abject devotion goes out tobrooklinegirl for a stellar beta amid the pressing demands of RL.
Crossed Wires
The first time Ray noticed something, he was walking by an open interrogation room. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Kowalski's bright shock of hair, so of course he had to peer around the door to see what his partner was up to. He didn't want to ruin the moment, if Kowalski was working on a perp -- Stanley was always giving him crap about "messing with his mojo" -- so he made sure to keep himself concealed when he looked to see just who his partner was talking to in that low, serious tone.
He really hadn't been expecting to see Frannie on the other side of the table, the two of them leaning forward, their foreheads practically pressed together, talking softly with their palms flat on the tabletop, fingertips almost touching.
* * *
He kept a lookout after that.
Sure, they'd always teased each other -- apparently they'd been pretty convincing as siblings while he'd been gone -- but Frannie didn't used to ruffle Kowalski's hair like that, did she?
His eyes narrowed when Kowalski swatted her on the hip with a file folder in response.
* * *
Watching Kowalski became a regular thing. Even when they were working a case, just the two of them, he almost always had one eye on his partner, trying to figure him out.
He didn't act like a guy who might be scamming on another guy's sister, Ray decided as he watched Kowalski driving and humming along to the radio, but then, Kowalski had always been a pretty cool customer. More so nowadays, he had to admit, if only to himself. Kowalski'd come back from Canada ... settled, somehow. More solid.
Well. He still drummed on the steering wheel as he drove, and shimmied around and air-boxed and twirled his pens on his long fingers. But he seemed to be just plain energetic rather than the twitchy mess Vecchio had first met.
Kind of the opposite of his own sweet self, after leaving Florida. He still felt like jumping out of his own skin half the time -- sometimes he even forgot exactly whose skin it was supposed to be -- and he hadn't felt this at sea since before Fraser had come crashing into his life. Ray searched Kowalski's face and wondered how he did it, bouncing back from having his whole life yanked out from under him.
Kowalski caught him staring and grinned without a trace of guile. Ray turned his face to the window and counted the cars in front of them.
* * *
He looked up from his paperwork to ask Huey about his notes and noticed the bullpen was empty. Quitting time had come and gone, and he'd missed it. He was so used to being on the clock 24/7, he still forgot there was another way to live, sometimes.
He cracked his back and got up to make a cup of coffee, opting to finish what he could and start with a clean inbox tomorrow. Some of us have a work ethic, Stanley, he thought smugly.
The break room was already occupied, though. He swallowed bile as he watched Kowalski enfold Frannie in his arms -- and Frannie was crying. That fucking bastard. He could hide the body, he knew all the tricks. He mentally reviewed a few of the most painful options.
His homicidal planning jumped the track when he caught her saying something in an almost unintelligibly thick voice that ended in "Fraser."
Oh.
Oh, little sister.
Kowalski rubbed circles on her back, his hands staying well above her waistline. He kissed her the top of her head and his voice hardly rasped at all when he murmured, "I know. Believe me, I know."
Ray tasted something bitter. He decided he didn't need coffee after all, and made his way blindly back to his desk.
* * *
"Fran-nie! Doorbell!"
"Ra-aaay! Unless you'd rather be changing this diaper, get it yourself!"
Ray grumbled a bit, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. He flung open the front door and there, behind the screen door, stood Kowalski. Who looked ridiculous, holding a casserole dish in one hand and a cigarette in the other, with a stuffed hippopotamus jammed under his arm. His stupid bracelet slid over the knob of his wristbone and disappeared under the sleeve of his dress jacket as he lifted his hand to take a drag.
"Put that thing out," Ray said, undoing the latch and leading the way to the kitchen, trusting Kowalski to do what he was told for once.
"Hi, Ma," Kowalski said, handing over the food and submitting to having his cheeks pinched. Frannie came into the kitchen and hugged him from behind. Kowalski smiled at her, and waggled the stuffed hippo in her face. She batted it away and dragged him upstairs to admire the kid.
Ray watched them go, and Ma sighed happily. "They make a nice couple," she said with satisfaction.
"Kowalski and Frannie? They're not -- no way, Ma, no way."
Ma just smiled and patted his cheek. "A mother knows what it means when a young man is comfortable in her home. Set the table, Raimundo. We've got company."
* * *
Ray was back to looking for signs again. It should be obvious one way or the other, dammit. He slammed his desk drawer closed and and grabbed his jacket in time to follow Kowalski out the door and into the bright sunlight.
"Wait up. So where are we going to lunch?" Ray asked rather breathlessly. Kowalski halted and looked at Ray with a question on his face.
"Well?" Ray prodded.
Kowalski cocked his head consideringly for a moment, and then gestured down the street. "There's a great little deli that just opened up," he said, somehow managing to lead Ray down the front steps by the elbow without making him feel like a girl. "I think you'll like it."
Ray was planning to slip some penetrating questions into the conversation over sandwiches, but Kowalski got mustard on the corner of his lip, and then they were throwing balled-up napkins at each other, and he forgot.
* * *
The next Saturday, Kowalski showed up with a box of pastries from Gino's and a stuffed giraffe. Ma said, "Welcome home," and kissed him on both cheeks.
Ray watched as his mother and sister doted on Kowalski over dinner. Frannie even forgot herself for a minute and wiped some sauce off his face with her thumb. Ray was momentarily reassured when she looked absolutely mortified. Kowalski just laughed it off, though, and grabbed her hand. "Now that you're a mom, I guess some things are just hard-wired, huh?"
Ray glared at his partner, who was still squeezing Frannie's hand and making her smile. "Kowalski, you sure are a messy eater lately," he drawled, and it was supposed to be a condemnation, it was supposed to sting him somehow, so why was Kowalski sitting there, looking at him with a fucking twinkle in his eye?
* * *
This was getting ridiculous. Ray dragged him into the den after coffee. "Are you trying to date my sister?" he demanded.
Kowalski just stood there with his hands in his back pockets, a smile dancing around the edges of his mouth like he knew something that Ray didn't, and shook his head. Ray could hear him give a theatrical snort of disbelief as he turned and went out the door.
"Hey! That's not an answer!" he called after the retreating form.
* * *
Ray slumped outside the holding cell, ignoring the outraged screams of one Mad Dog MacDougal. He ran his hand over the fine weave of his trousers, now ruined beyond repair by the hot tar he'd skidded into earlier, and rubbed a bit of the smooth cloth between his fingers. Who, exactly, was he dressing up to be? Cops didn't dress like this. There was a reason cops didn't dress like this.
Although, come to think of it, cops didn't dress like Kowalski, either. Bright knit shirts and flip-up sunglasses, jeans and gas station attendant shirts with tweed blazers on top, corduroys and striped sweaters like a little boy would wear.
At the moment, Kowalski was directly in Ray's line of sight, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed and his head tilted back to rest tiredly against the cinderblock wall. Ray studied Kowalski's current choice of sweatshirt, dark jeans, and motorcycle boots. It was more practical than Ray's own clothing, but he still looked more like a street punk than a cop. Ray decided that Armando would have had the guy beaten up purely on principle.
"You checking me out, Vecchio?" Kowalski asked, not looking perturbed in the least.
"You know it, Stanely," Ray said, and pushed himself up off the bench.
* * *
Stella had as much as admitted that Kowalski was a demon in the sack. Ray studied Frannie, but she sure didn't look like she was glowing. She looked frazzled.
"You look frazzled," he told her. She planted his nephew in his lap.
"That's it," she declared. "I'm going to Bingo with Ma. You watch Dante while I get ready."
Ray bounced Dante on his knee until he started to spit up. Ray brought the kid upstairs to keep an eye on him while he changed his shirt.
He trailed Frannie and Ma into the foyer as he did up the last of his buttons. "But it's Friday night. What if I had plans?" he asked, holding the door open for them.
"But you don't, do you," said Frannie, and it didn't sound like a question. "Besides, the babysitter will be here soon." She winked at him.
Kowalski. He should have known.
* * *
This time Kowalski showed up with a six-pack and a stuffed zebra.
"What's next, an entire African safari?"
Ray let out an "oof" as Kowalski shoved the six-pack into his stomach.
* * *
The kid was finally down for the count. The game was on, Ray was sipping a beer, and he didn't have anywhere else he'd rather be on a Friday night. Kowalski was sprawled out on the couch, looking like a fucking wet dream, and Ray finally had to face facts.
Kowalski had come back from the Great White North older, wiser, and maybe a little bit sadder (but Ray was absolutely not going to speculate about that because Kowalski hadn't said anything and neither had Benny), and Kowalski knew who he fucking was, and he sympathized with Frannie because he'd been there himself -- maybe even twice -- and he was spending time with Ray now because apparently he wanted to.
And Ray could probably be forgiven for overlooking all of that as long as fucking possible, because he wasn't fucking prepared for this, although upon reflection he supposed it beat the hell out of being jealous of his own sister.
During a commercial break, Ray took a deep breath, got up, and went over to sit next to Kowalski. Kowalski grinned up at him from his slouched position in the corner of the sofa, his head almost level with the armrest, and lifted his beer in a salute. Ray clinked the proffered bottle with the neck of his own, and took a self-conscious gulp.
"Bet you slept with a lot of women in Vegas," Kowalski noted, apropos of nothing.
Ray managed not to choke on his beer. "Uh, yeah," he admitted. "It was part of the job. I didn't think I'd ever say this, but it kind of lost the allure after a while, you know?"
Kowalski just nodded for him to continue.
"I mean, Stella --" and he was probably treading dangerous ground, here, but this might actually be important. "Stella's special, I don't have to tell you that, but -- we weren't right. Florida wasn't right. The goddamn bowling alley wasn't right, at least not for the two of us."
"I thought you'd both lost it, when I heard about that," Kowalski chuckled, and chased a dribble of liquid down the neck of his beer bottle with his tongue.
Ray cleared his throat. Kowalski continued, as if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary. "So, you haven't really dated since you got back. At first I thought it was just... Being burnt by Stel's not something you get over right away, you know? But that's not it, is it."
Ray shook his head "no."
Kowalski straightened up and planted his beer on the coffee table. Ray opened his mouth to say something about coasters and condensation rings, but one look at the intensity on Kowalski's face and he snapped his mouth shut again.
Ray'd never fucked around with another guy, not since he was a kid, just messing around,and it had never even crossed his mind until now that that might actually count, so it probably didn't. He was pretty sure all that was going to change in a minute, though.
Kowalski was practically leaning into him, one hand braced on the cushion next to Ray's hip, his upper body curving around so that they were almost face-to-face. "You, uh, you ready for this?" he asked Ray.
"And if I said no?"
Kowalski just lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and slowly, tightly, started to uncurl back away from Ray.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on there, cowboy --" Ray said, grabbing the front of Kowalski's Western-style shirt and hauling him back. "I didn't actually say no, now did I?" He pulled at the collar of the plaid monstrosity, and the top snap popped open. "What kind of question is that, anyway? Hell, yeah, I'm ready."
Kowalski's answering smile blazed across his face, and he slipped to his knees between Ray's legs. Ray tried to catch his breath as his belt was undone, and he lifted his hips for his pants and boxers to be tugged down. Kowalski looked up at him, his face hovering over Ray's cloth-covered knees, and said, "Hold on."
Good Christ. Ray had gotten a lot of blow jobs, but Kowalski's mouth was so wet. He pushed up against Kowalski's tongue and Kowalski bent his head lower, swallowing even more.
The short hairs covering the curve at the back of Kowalski's skull looked soft, and ... something else, something vulnerable that Ray didn't want to think too hard about. Ray had to map that ridge with his hand, tracing over the soft bristles and settling on the back of Kowalski's neck. Ray cupped his palm there and shut his eyes tight at sensation of Kowalski's lips dragging up his dick. He made sure not to clench the hand on Kowalski's neck as those lips slid back down again -- and he was good, he was cool, he could handle this just fine.
Then Kowalski started to suck.
"Oh fuck," Ray choked out, electrified by the insistent suction on his dick. He was suddenly, shockingly close to desperate. His hips surged up, and he slid himself in and out of Kowalski's mouth, his whole body galvanized and ready to pop. Kowalski snaked a hand around and rubbed the base of Ray's cock, then pressed a knuckle up against a patch of skin lower down. Ray saw sparks behind his eyelids and came, gasping, into his dick's favorite new place, the warm wet cavern of Kowalski's mouth.
He slid free, still breathing in huffs and puffs, and Kowalski swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He looked smug, but then, Ray figured he had every right to be.
Kowalski stood and kicked off his running shoes, unbuttoned his fly, and shoved down his jeans and shorts, so quickly Ray hardly even got a glimpse. He stepped out of the puddle of clothing and pressed down on Ray's shoulder, urging him to lie across the couch. He climbed on top of Ray, straddling his waist. Ray could feel the crinkle of leg-hair against his sides, and the heat and unaccustomed weight of Kowalski's body, hovering just above his own.
"Okay?" Kowalski asked, running a hand up under Ray's shirt. The material bunched up against Kowalski's knuckles, and he pushed it up Ray's chest, exposing more skin.
"Not really," Ray said, and tugged Kowalski's shirt, pulling the sides apart -- snap! snap! snap! snap! -- "Okay. Now I can see what I'm dealing with, here."
He looked at Kowalski's body, bathed in warm light from the lamp and flickering blue from the television. Just a little hair on his chest, some surrounding his dark nipples. The lines of a few ribs showed beneath the plaid cloth, but not too many. Another light patch of hair arrowing down to his dick, which was pressed lightly against Ray's stomach and certainly seemed happy to be there. Ray was relieved that it wasn't too weird to look at.
He took a breath and reached out, wrapping a hand around it. Kowalski let out a hissing breath and pushed forward, the head of his cock dragging against Ray's stomach. Kowalski braced his hands on Ray's shoulders and rubbed back and forth against him, sliding through the tunnel of Ray's hand. Ray could feel it -- him -- Kowalski's dick -- pushing against him and leaving a trail of slippery wetness.
Kowalski's eyes fell half-shut and his head tilted back as he let out a moan. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the last of the sound and rubbed against Ray's abdomen even more insistently. Ray lifted his other hand to Kowalski's hip, and Kowalski's fingers tightened on Ray's shoulders.
"Shit," Kowalski said, and leaned over him, pulsing in his hand, spattering warm fluid on Ray's stomach, finally close enough for his breath to puff humidly on Ray's face. "Uhn," Kowalski grunted, and flopped down, somehow insinuating himself between Ray's side and the back of the couch. He was lying on top of Ray's arm, and one leg was resting heavily over Ray's knee, but Ray really, honestly, definitely, absolutely did not mind at all.
They rested there for a minute, completely fucked-out, just a couple of older guys who hadn't gotten any in a while. Kowalski moved first, propping himself up on one arm and brushing his dry lips quickly across Ray's. He sat up and said, "Oh, no."
"'Oh, no'?" Ray asked suspiciously.
"Sorry, but, uh -- this shirt isn't silk, is it?"
Ray looked down at the wet splotch. That was all? He sighed. "Second shirt today," he informed Kowalski. "Apparently, I can't have nice things."
Kowalski snickered and thwacked him on the shoulder. "I'll give you nice things, Vecchio," he said, and kissed him. And kissed him. And holy god, could he kiss. Ray thought kissing was good, kissing was great, and why hadn't they done this sooner? He pulled Kowalski back down and rolled onto his side to face him, his hand pressing into the small of Kowalski's back and his tongue feeling up the inside of Kowalski's mouth.
Ray urged Kowalski even closer, still kissing him deeply. Kowalski clutched Ray's shoulders and licked the roof of his mouth. They made out until Ray let his hand wander down to Kowalski's ass, and Kowalski moaned into his mouth and pushed forward, and they started shifting positions blindly, and Ray almost rolled off the couch. He flung out a hand to steady himself, and forced himself to get up and pull his clothing back together. "Come on," he said, extending a hand for Kowalski to use to pull himself up. "Get your pants on. I need a t-shirt or something, and Frannie and Ma are gonna be home soon."
They rooted through Ray's closet and drawers until they found a folded stack of cotton tees. Ray took the entire pile out and plopped it on top of the dresser. "Looks like I'm going to have to start wearing these more often," he explained, and selected a green one.
Kowalski was lying back on the bed, elbows propping him up from behind as he watched Ray change. "I cannot believe you thought I had the hots for Frannie," he snickered, and then put up a defensive hand to fend off the shoe Ray was morally obligated to throw at him.
* * *
Kowalski came over to babysit almost every Friday evening, and sat down to Ma's home-cooked dinner every Saturday night. Ma seemed happy to overlook the fact that Ray himself was rarely home the rest of the week.
Dante had all the safari animals and was now accumulating dinosaurs at an alarming rate.
Frannie was pregnant again. Kowalski kept asking when Ray was going to demand to know whether or not he was the father, and Ray was running out of different ways to say "shut up."
Ray rarely got the urge to have anyone killed (other than Kowalski), or go bowling (except with Kowalski's head). He couldn't imagine leaving Chicago ever again.
Especially since the couch still saw a lot of action on Bingo nights.
aerye requested Ray/Ray: "And if I said no?"My abject devotion goes out to
brooklinegirl for a stellar beta amid the pressing demands of RL. Crossed Wires
The first time Ray noticed something, he was walking by an open interrogation room. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Kowalski's bright shock of hair, so of course he had to peer around the door to see what his partner was up to. He didn't want to ruin the moment, if Kowalski was working on a perp -- Stanley was always giving him crap about "messing with his mojo" -- so he made sure to keep himself concealed when he looked to see just who his partner was talking to in that low, serious tone.
He really hadn't been expecting to see Frannie on the other side of the table, the two of them leaning forward, their foreheads practically pressed together, talking softly with their palms flat on the tabletop, fingertips almost touching.
* * *
He kept a lookout after that.
Sure, they'd always teased each other -- apparently they'd been pretty convincing as siblings while he'd been gone -- but Frannie didn't used to ruffle Kowalski's hair like that, did she?
His eyes narrowed when Kowalski swatted her on the hip with a file folder in response.
* * *
Watching Kowalski became a regular thing. Even when they were working a case, just the two of them, he almost always had one eye on his partner, trying to figure him out.
He didn't act like a guy who might be scamming on another guy's sister, Ray decided as he watched Kowalski driving and humming along to the radio, but then, Kowalski had always been a pretty cool customer. More so nowadays, he had to admit, if only to himself. Kowalski'd come back from Canada ... settled, somehow. More solid.
Well. He still drummed on the steering wheel as he drove, and shimmied around and air-boxed and twirled his pens on his long fingers. But he seemed to be just plain energetic rather than the twitchy mess Vecchio had first met.
Kind of the opposite of his own sweet self, after leaving Florida. He still felt like jumping out of his own skin half the time -- sometimes he even forgot exactly whose skin it was supposed to be -- and he hadn't felt this at sea since before Fraser had come crashing into his life. Ray searched Kowalski's face and wondered how he did it, bouncing back from having his whole life yanked out from under him.
Kowalski caught him staring and grinned without a trace of guile. Ray turned his face to the window and counted the cars in front of them.
* * *
He looked up from his paperwork to ask Huey about his notes and noticed the bullpen was empty. Quitting time had come and gone, and he'd missed it. He was so used to being on the clock 24/7, he still forgot there was another way to live, sometimes.
He cracked his back and got up to make a cup of coffee, opting to finish what he could and start with a clean inbox tomorrow. Some of us have a work ethic, Stanley, he thought smugly.
The break room was already occupied, though. He swallowed bile as he watched Kowalski enfold Frannie in his arms -- and Frannie was crying. That fucking bastard. He could hide the body, he knew all the tricks. He mentally reviewed a few of the most painful options.
His homicidal planning jumped the track when he caught her saying something in an almost unintelligibly thick voice that ended in "Fraser."
Oh.
Oh, little sister.
Kowalski rubbed circles on her back, his hands staying well above her waistline. He kissed her the top of her head and his voice hardly rasped at all when he murmured, "I know. Believe me, I know."
Ray tasted something bitter. He decided he didn't need coffee after all, and made his way blindly back to his desk.
* * *
"Fran-nie! Doorbell!"
"Ra-aaay! Unless you'd rather be changing this diaper, get it yourself!"
Ray grumbled a bit, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. He flung open the front door and there, behind the screen door, stood Kowalski. Who looked ridiculous, holding a casserole dish in one hand and a cigarette in the other, with a stuffed hippopotamus jammed under his arm. His stupid bracelet slid over the knob of his wristbone and disappeared under the sleeve of his dress jacket as he lifted his hand to take a drag.
"Put that thing out," Ray said, undoing the latch and leading the way to the kitchen, trusting Kowalski to do what he was told for once.
"Hi, Ma," Kowalski said, handing over the food and submitting to having his cheeks pinched. Frannie came into the kitchen and hugged him from behind. Kowalski smiled at her, and waggled the stuffed hippo in her face. She batted it away and dragged him upstairs to admire the kid.
Ray watched them go, and Ma sighed happily. "They make a nice couple," she said with satisfaction.
"Kowalski and Frannie? They're not -- no way, Ma, no way."
Ma just smiled and patted his cheek. "A mother knows what it means when a young man is comfortable in her home. Set the table, Raimundo. We've got company."
* * *
Ray was back to looking for signs again. It should be obvious one way or the other, dammit. He slammed his desk drawer closed and and grabbed his jacket in time to follow Kowalski out the door and into the bright sunlight.
"Wait up. So where are we going to lunch?" Ray asked rather breathlessly. Kowalski halted and looked at Ray with a question on his face.
"Well?" Ray prodded.
Kowalski cocked his head consideringly for a moment, and then gestured down the street. "There's a great little deli that just opened up," he said, somehow managing to lead Ray down the front steps by the elbow without making him feel like a girl. "I think you'll like it."
Ray was planning to slip some penetrating questions into the conversation over sandwiches, but Kowalski got mustard on the corner of his lip, and then they were throwing balled-up napkins at each other, and he forgot.
* * *
The next Saturday, Kowalski showed up with a box of pastries from Gino's and a stuffed giraffe. Ma said, "Welcome home," and kissed him on both cheeks.
Ray watched as his mother and sister doted on Kowalski over dinner. Frannie even forgot herself for a minute and wiped some sauce off his face with her thumb. Ray was momentarily reassured when she looked absolutely mortified. Kowalski just laughed it off, though, and grabbed her hand. "Now that you're a mom, I guess some things are just hard-wired, huh?"
Ray glared at his partner, who was still squeezing Frannie's hand and making her smile. "Kowalski, you sure are a messy eater lately," he drawled, and it was supposed to be a condemnation, it was supposed to sting him somehow, so why was Kowalski sitting there, looking at him with a fucking twinkle in his eye?
* * *
This was getting ridiculous. Ray dragged him into the den after coffee. "Are you trying to date my sister?" he demanded.
Kowalski just stood there with his hands in his back pockets, a smile dancing around the edges of his mouth like he knew something that Ray didn't, and shook his head. Ray could hear him give a theatrical snort of disbelief as he turned and went out the door.
"Hey! That's not an answer!" he called after the retreating form.
* * *
Ray slumped outside the holding cell, ignoring the outraged screams of one Mad Dog MacDougal. He ran his hand over the fine weave of his trousers, now ruined beyond repair by the hot tar he'd skidded into earlier, and rubbed a bit of the smooth cloth between his fingers. Who, exactly, was he dressing up to be? Cops didn't dress like this. There was a reason cops didn't dress like this.
Although, come to think of it, cops didn't dress like Kowalski, either. Bright knit shirts and flip-up sunglasses, jeans and gas station attendant shirts with tweed blazers on top, corduroys and striped sweaters like a little boy would wear.
At the moment, Kowalski was directly in Ray's line of sight, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed and his head tilted back to rest tiredly against the cinderblock wall. Ray studied Kowalski's current choice of sweatshirt, dark jeans, and motorcycle boots. It was more practical than Ray's own clothing, but he still looked more like a street punk than a cop. Ray decided that Armando would have had the guy beaten up purely on principle.
"You checking me out, Vecchio?" Kowalski asked, not looking perturbed in the least.
"You know it, Stanely," Ray said, and pushed himself up off the bench.
* * *
Stella had as much as admitted that Kowalski was a demon in the sack. Ray studied Frannie, but she sure didn't look like she was glowing. She looked frazzled.
"You look frazzled," he told her. She planted his nephew in his lap.
"That's it," she declared. "I'm going to Bingo with Ma. You watch Dante while I get ready."
Ray bounced Dante on his knee until he started to spit up. Ray brought the kid upstairs to keep an eye on him while he changed his shirt.
He trailed Frannie and Ma into the foyer as he did up the last of his buttons. "But it's Friday night. What if I had plans?" he asked, holding the door open for them.
"But you don't, do you," said Frannie, and it didn't sound like a question. "Besides, the babysitter will be here soon." She winked at him.
Kowalski. He should have known.
* * *
This time Kowalski showed up with a six-pack and a stuffed zebra.
"What's next, an entire African safari?"
Ray let out an "oof" as Kowalski shoved the six-pack into his stomach.
* * *
The kid was finally down for the count. The game was on, Ray was sipping a beer, and he didn't have anywhere else he'd rather be on a Friday night. Kowalski was sprawled out on the couch, looking like a fucking wet dream, and Ray finally had to face facts.
Kowalski had come back from the Great White North older, wiser, and maybe a little bit sadder (but Ray was absolutely not going to speculate about that because Kowalski hadn't said anything and neither had Benny), and Kowalski knew who he fucking was, and he sympathized with Frannie because he'd been there himself -- maybe even twice -- and he was spending time with Ray now because apparently he wanted to.
And Ray could probably be forgiven for overlooking all of that as long as fucking possible, because he wasn't fucking prepared for this, although upon reflection he supposed it beat the hell out of being jealous of his own sister.
During a commercial break, Ray took a deep breath, got up, and went over to sit next to Kowalski. Kowalski grinned up at him from his slouched position in the corner of the sofa, his head almost level with the armrest, and lifted his beer in a salute. Ray clinked the proffered bottle with the neck of his own, and took a self-conscious gulp.
"Bet you slept with a lot of women in Vegas," Kowalski noted, apropos of nothing.
Ray managed not to choke on his beer. "Uh, yeah," he admitted. "It was part of the job. I didn't think I'd ever say this, but it kind of lost the allure after a while, you know?"
Kowalski just nodded for him to continue.
"I mean, Stella --" and he was probably treading dangerous ground, here, but this might actually be important. "Stella's special, I don't have to tell you that, but -- we weren't right. Florida wasn't right. The goddamn bowling alley wasn't right, at least not for the two of us."
"I thought you'd both lost it, when I heard about that," Kowalski chuckled, and chased a dribble of liquid down the neck of his beer bottle with his tongue.
Ray cleared his throat. Kowalski continued, as if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary. "So, you haven't really dated since you got back. At first I thought it was just... Being burnt by Stel's not something you get over right away, you know? But that's not it, is it."
Ray shook his head "no."
Kowalski straightened up and planted his beer on the coffee table. Ray opened his mouth to say something about coasters and condensation rings, but one look at the intensity on Kowalski's face and he snapped his mouth shut again.
Ray'd never fucked around with another guy, not since he was a kid, just messing around,and it had never even crossed his mind until now that that might actually count, so it probably didn't. He was pretty sure all that was going to change in a minute, though.
Kowalski was practically leaning into him, one hand braced on the cushion next to Ray's hip, his upper body curving around so that they were almost face-to-face. "You, uh, you ready for this?" he asked Ray.
"And if I said no?"
Kowalski just lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and slowly, tightly, started to uncurl back away from Ray.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on there, cowboy --" Ray said, grabbing the front of Kowalski's Western-style shirt and hauling him back. "I didn't actually say no, now did I?" He pulled at the collar of the plaid monstrosity, and the top snap popped open. "What kind of question is that, anyway? Hell, yeah, I'm ready."
Kowalski's answering smile blazed across his face, and he slipped to his knees between Ray's legs. Ray tried to catch his breath as his belt was undone, and he lifted his hips for his pants and boxers to be tugged down. Kowalski looked up at him, his face hovering over Ray's cloth-covered knees, and said, "Hold on."
Good Christ. Ray had gotten a lot of blow jobs, but Kowalski's mouth was so wet. He pushed up against Kowalski's tongue and Kowalski bent his head lower, swallowing even more.
The short hairs covering the curve at the back of Kowalski's skull looked soft, and ... something else, something vulnerable that Ray didn't want to think too hard about. Ray had to map that ridge with his hand, tracing over the soft bristles and settling on the back of Kowalski's neck. Ray cupped his palm there and shut his eyes tight at sensation of Kowalski's lips dragging up his dick. He made sure not to clench the hand on Kowalski's neck as those lips slid back down again -- and he was good, he was cool, he could handle this just fine.
Then Kowalski started to suck.
"Oh fuck," Ray choked out, electrified by the insistent suction on his dick. He was suddenly, shockingly close to desperate. His hips surged up, and he slid himself in and out of Kowalski's mouth, his whole body galvanized and ready to pop. Kowalski snaked a hand around and rubbed the base of Ray's cock, then pressed a knuckle up against a patch of skin lower down. Ray saw sparks behind his eyelids and came, gasping, into his dick's favorite new place, the warm wet cavern of Kowalski's mouth.
He slid free, still breathing in huffs and puffs, and Kowalski swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He looked smug, but then, Ray figured he had every right to be.
Kowalski stood and kicked off his running shoes, unbuttoned his fly, and shoved down his jeans and shorts, so quickly Ray hardly even got a glimpse. He stepped out of the puddle of clothing and pressed down on Ray's shoulder, urging him to lie across the couch. He climbed on top of Ray, straddling his waist. Ray could feel the crinkle of leg-hair against his sides, and the heat and unaccustomed weight of Kowalski's body, hovering just above his own.
"Okay?" Kowalski asked, running a hand up under Ray's shirt. The material bunched up against Kowalski's knuckles, and he pushed it up Ray's chest, exposing more skin.
"Not really," Ray said, and tugged Kowalski's shirt, pulling the sides apart -- snap! snap! snap! snap! -- "Okay. Now I can see what I'm dealing with, here."
He looked at Kowalski's body, bathed in warm light from the lamp and flickering blue from the television. Just a little hair on his chest, some surrounding his dark nipples. The lines of a few ribs showed beneath the plaid cloth, but not too many. Another light patch of hair arrowing down to his dick, which was pressed lightly against Ray's stomach and certainly seemed happy to be there. Ray was relieved that it wasn't too weird to look at.
He took a breath and reached out, wrapping a hand around it. Kowalski let out a hissing breath and pushed forward, the head of his cock dragging against Ray's stomach. Kowalski braced his hands on Ray's shoulders and rubbed back and forth against him, sliding through the tunnel of Ray's hand. Ray could feel it -- him -- Kowalski's dick -- pushing against him and leaving a trail of slippery wetness.
Kowalski's eyes fell half-shut and his head tilted back as he let out a moan. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the last of the sound and rubbed against Ray's abdomen even more insistently. Ray lifted his other hand to Kowalski's hip, and Kowalski's fingers tightened on Ray's shoulders.
"Shit," Kowalski said, and leaned over him, pulsing in his hand, spattering warm fluid on Ray's stomach, finally close enough for his breath to puff humidly on Ray's face. "Uhn," Kowalski grunted, and flopped down, somehow insinuating himself between Ray's side and the back of the couch. He was lying on top of Ray's arm, and one leg was resting heavily over Ray's knee, but Ray really, honestly, definitely, absolutely did not mind at all.
They rested there for a minute, completely fucked-out, just a couple of older guys who hadn't gotten any in a while. Kowalski moved first, propping himself up on one arm and brushing his dry lips quickly across Ray's. He sat up and said, "Oh, no."
"'Oh, no'?" Ray asked suspiciously.
"Sorry, but, uh -- this shirt isn't silk, is it?"
Ray looked down at the wet splotch. That was all? He sighed. "Second shirt today," he informed Kowalski. "Apparently, I can't have nice things."
Kowalski snickered and thwacked him on the shoulder. "I'll give you nice things, Vecchio," he said, and kissed him. And kissed him. And holy god, could he kiss. Ray thought kissing was good, kissing was great, and why hadn't they done this sooner? He pulled Kowalski back down and rolled onto his side to face him, his hand pressing into the small of Kowalski's back and his tongue feeling up the inside of Kowalski's mouth.
Ray urged Kowalski even closer, still kissing him deeply. Kowalski clutched Ray's shoulders and licked the roof of his mouth. They made out until Ray let his hand wander down to Kowalski's ass, and Kowalski moaned into his mouth and pushed forward, and they started shifting positions blindly, and Ray almost rolled off the couch. He flung out a hand to steady himself, and forced himself to get up and pull his clothing back together. "Come on," he said, extending a hand for Kowalski to use to pull himself up. "Get your pants on. I need a t-shirt or something, and Frannie and Ma are gonna be home soon."
They rooted through Ray's closet and drawers until they found a folded stack of cotton tees. Ray took the entire pile out and plopped it on top of the dresser. "Looks like I'm going to have to start wearing these more often," he explained, and selected a green one.
Kowalski was lying back on the bed, elbows propping him up from behind as he watched Ray change. "I cannot believe you thought I had the hots for Frannie," he snickered, and then put up a defensive hand to fend off the shoe Ray was morally obligated to throw at him.
* * *
Kowalski came over to babysit almost every Friday evening, and sat down to Ma's home-cooked dinner every Saturday night. Ma seemed happy to overlook the fact that Ray himself was rarely home the rest of the week.
Dante had all the safari animals and was now accumulating dinosaurs at an alarming rate.
Frannie was pregnant again. Kowalski kept asking when Ray was going to demand to know whether or not he was the father, and Ray was running out of different ways to say "shut up."
Ray rarely got the urge to have anyone killed (other than Kowalski), or go bowling (except with Kowalski's head). He couldn't imagine leaving Chicago ever again.
Especially since the couch still saw a lot of action on Bingo nights.
