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“You’re going to the game, aren’t you?”
Ray glances up from the folds of his wallet and squints at Rudy. “The game?” He digs three bucks out and tosses them onto the counter. “What are you talking about?”
Rudy’s eyebrows go up toward his hairline. “The soccer game,” he replies, speaking to Ray like he would a small child. There’s a long pause where they just stare at each other. “You fucking forgot, didn’t you?” It isn’t really a question.
“Fuck. What fucking time is it?” Ray leans across the counter to look at the time blinking at the bottom right-hand corner of the register screen. “Shit.”
Rudy shakes his head and clucks his tongue, scooping some ice into the drink he just finished making. He sets it on the counter, and Ray snatches it up immediately. “You’re going to miss kick-off because the buses are done running today. But if you haul ass you won’t miss much more than that, brother.”
Ray digs his phone out of the bottom of his messenger bag and feels a dead weight settle in the pit of his stomach when he sees the three unread text messages sitting in his inbox.
6:43 PM, Thursday
FROM: BRAD
You’re coming aren’t you?
6:57 PM, Thursday
FROM: BRAD
To clarify, I meant to the game.
7:14 PM, Thursday
FROM: BRAD
???
Ray curses under his breath and drops his phone into his pocket. “Shit, shit, shit. I’ll see you later, Rudy!” he calls over his shoulder as he turns quickly and heads for the door, his drink in hand.
“Tell Brad I said hi,” Rudy replies.
The lights of the soccer complex are on and there are still people trailing in when Ray makes it to the front gates. It’s still the regular season so it’s free to get in with a valid student ID. Ray digs his out of his wallet and flashes it at the guy manning the gate.
He stands at the top of one of the set of stairs and squints at the scoreboard on the opposite end of the field. He’s only missed the first five minutes or so, and the score is still even, so he lets out a relieved puff of breath. Ray starts down the concrete stairs, alternating between looking through the crowd and keeping an eye on the game.
Walt arches an eyebrow at him when Ray finally finds him. “Wow,” he begins. “For a minute there I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Shut up, Walt.” Ray lifts the strap of his bag over his head and drops onto the bleacher next to Walt, setting his bag on the ground between his feet. He takes a sip of his iced latte and settles it on his knee, clutching it by the top. “I might be a little late, but I’m here.”
“He was looking for you, you know.”
Ray slants a glance at Walt and then flicks his gaze back to the field. He can see Brad on the far side. “Yeah, I know. He texted me.”
“He didn’t look very happy about it.”
When Ray looks at him again, Walt is staring straight ahead, face neutral. “Okay.” He takes another sip of his drink.
“I’m just saying,” Walt says after a beat. “You’re probably going to have to make it up to him. You know, suck his no doubt sub-par dick a little.”
Ray shoots Walt an incredulous look, straw still in his mouth. “First of all, I can assure you that Brad’s dick is not small. And second of all --”
Walt makes a noise in the back of his throat and furrows his brow. “I thought you said you hadn’t fucked?”
“We haven’t,” he replies. “But that doesn’t mean we haven’t done anything else. We’re not monks.” Ray doesn’t say anything when Walt steals his drink and takes a sip. “Are you fucking jealous?” he asks eventually.
“Of course not.” Walt returns the latte, his gaze still locked on the field.
Ray opens his mouth to say something else but decides against it and then closes his lips over his straw instead. He feels distinctly uncomfortable for the rest of the first half and just watches quietly when Walt gets up and shuffles off toward the concession stands without a word at halftime.
Walt comes back with a tray of nachos, a huge fucking soda, and a little cup of jalapenos. He sets the soda between his feet and the jalapenos on the bleacher between them.
Ray watches, chewing nervously on the straw of his coffee. “You don’t like jalapenos,” he says.
“No, but you do.” Walt still isn’t looking at him.
“Oh.”
“I know better than to think you’re going to sit there and keep your hands to yourself,” Walt tells him and then flashes a small smile. It doesn’t quite make it to blue eyes, but Ray recognizes it for what it is - an apology and a ceasefire.
Ray returns the smile, lips pressed together. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He reaches over and snags a couple of chips, dipping them into the cheese. He grabs a couple of jalapenos to go with it and then shoves it all into his mouth.
Walt snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “You’re a mess.”
“No, ‘m not,” Ray protests.
A minute or two before the final seconds tick off the scoreboard, Poke scores the game’s only goal. It isn’t pretty, but it still counts, and gets them the W. Walt and Ray file out of the main gate, and Ray immediately hooks a left. “Hey, where’re you going?” Walt asks, pitching his empty soda cup into the trash can.
“I’m gonna go wait for Brad outside the locker room,” Ray replies, still shuffling backwards down the sidewalk.
“Oh.” Walt shoves his hands into his jeans and shrugs. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you later then?”
Ray nods and mock-salutes Walt. “I’ll call you and let you know what’s going on,” he says and gets a small smile in answer. “See you.” He turns on his heel and heads down the sidewalk to the home team’s locker room and leans against the wall to wait.
It’s about twenty minutes later that the door finally opens and the team starts to file out. Nate and Poke are out first and Ray smiles and says hey to them, congratulates Poke on the goal, but neither of them really seem to acknowledge him. “Uh.” Ray fiddles with the strap on his bag and wonders what the fuck before Brad emerges.
“Hey.” Brad stops and slings his bag down to set it on the sidewalk at their feet and then bends down a bit to press a brief kiss to Ray’s mouth. Ray thinks Brad smells like Irish spring soap, and he’s in a practice shirt instead of his jersey.
“I tried to find you before the game,” Brad says. “Where the fuck were you?”
Despite the language, Ray’s glad that Brad doesn’t really sound mad. Ray makes a show of wincing. “Ooh, yeah, about that.”
Brad just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You forgot?”
“I might’ve, yeah. And my phone was still on silent from class, so I didn’t realize you tried to text me.” Ray shoots Brad an apologetic grin. “Sorry.”
“How much of the game did you miss?” Brad asks. He picks his bag back up and they start a slow walk back up the sidewalk.
Ray walks close enough to Brad that they keep bumping into each other and eventually he just snakes his hand down to curl it around Brad’s. He’s sort of relieved when Brad’s hand tightens around his instead of letting go. “Only the first five minutes,” he says. “I stopped to get a coffee, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have remembered until I saw the stadium lights.”
Brad snorts. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Rudy thinks that too.” Ray grins. They walk in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. “Sorry I was late,” he says eventually.
“It’s all right.” Brad squeezes his hand once.
“Walt said you looked a little pissed.” Ray chews his bottom lip. “Were you?”
Brad shrugs his shoulders and releases Ray’s hand so that he can dig his keys out of the front pocket of his bag. “At first I was a little pissed,” he admits. “Then I figured you were probably held up at class or something. I’ve heard Collins is a bit of a dickhead sometimes.”
“Sometimes is kind of an understatement,” Ray murmurs and watches Brad toss his soccer bag into the bed of the truck that’s starting to rust a little in some places. “Why do you even have this piece of shit?”
Brad looks briefly amused and makes a gesture for Ray to climb into the passenger seat. “My mom doesn’t want me riding the bike on the highway when I go back home,” he explains.
“Ah.”
A comfortable silence falls over the cabin for a while as Brad navigates the streets of campus. “So Nate and Poke are headed to a party at Chaffin’s,” Brad says eventually. “I figured we could grab a pizza and just hang low tonight.”
Ray’s stomach twists and he gets this warm feeling that goes all the way down to his toes at the significant look Brad gives him, and he can’t help the stupid grin that forms. “Okay.”
Brad grins back. “Good.”
The door to Brad’s bedroom is barely closed before Brad has him pinned up against it. Ray makes a noise in the back of his throat that’s muffled by Brad’s mouth covering his. He twists one hand in the hem of Brad’s worn out practice shirt, the other going up to cup his jaw as they kiss.
Brad’s hands are everywhere. His face, his chest, his sides, up his back, down to clutch at his hips. They slide around to cup his ass, and Brad squeezes so hard he lifts Ray up onto his tiptoes.
Ray’s heart was already pounding in his ears but it starts to beat double-time as he realizes this likely isn’t going to stop at exchanged hand jobs and sloppy kisses. He tears his mouth away from Brad’s, but Brad just moves onto his neck instead. “Brad.” The name ends on a gasp when he feels Brad’s teeth against his skin.
Brad’s mouth finds his again but it’s a softer kiss, at odds with the firm grip he’s keeping on Ray’s ass. “If you don’t want to you’d best tell me right now,” he murmurs. His lips brush against Ray’s as he talks.
Ray opens his eyes to look up at Brad, breath catching in his throat when he sees how wide Brad’s pupils have gotten, only the smallest ring of blue still visible. He swallows hard and tips his head back against the door when Brad dips his head down to mouth at his throat. “I -- I want to.” The hands on his ass squeeze, Brad’s acknowledgment that he was heard, he guesses.
Brad swings him around and starts to walk him backwards. “Good.” They stop somewhere in the middle of the room, Brad’s hands coming up to start undoing the black button-down Ray’s wearing. He pushes it off Ray’s shoulders and starts to tug the hem of the dark undershirt up.
Ray tries to keep his wits about him and not just turn into a pile of putty in Brad’s hands, but it doesn’t work very well. He lets Brad pull his t-shirt off and within a matter of seconds he’s flat on his back on Brad’s low bed, the down comforter making a ‘fwump’ sound when he hits it.
The practice t-shirt Brad is wearing comes off, and then Brad is joining him on the bed, straddling his hips. The soccer shorts he’s still got on aren’t doing anything to hide the fact that he’s getting hard.
When Ray stretches his hand out to rub at Brad’s erection through the polyester, Brad swats it away. “Ow.” Ray rubs the back of his hand. “Geeze, Brad.”
Brad doesn’t say anything but he reaches down and starts going to work on Ray’s jeans, unfastening the button and dragging the zipper down. He shifts farther back and tucks his fingers into the waist, starting to peel them off Ray.
Ray squirms a little under Brad and lifts his hips up as best he can to help make things easier.
Brad doesn’t have much trouble until he gets them down near Ray’s knees. “You and your fucking hipster skinny jeans,” he mutters and nips at Ray’s thigh.
Ray pushes himself up onto his elbows to watch Brad’s struggle with the denim. He smiles just a little. “You’ve always said you like my jeans.”
Brad grabs the bottom hem of Ray’s jeans and starts tugging. “No, I like the way your ass looks in your jeans. I am beginning to loathe the jeans themselves because they don’t come off.” He gives another hard tug and nearly topples off the end of the bed when Ray’s jeans come free from his legs. “Shut up,” he warns, when he looks up and sees the way Ray’s mouth is twitching.
“Dude, I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“So?” Ray makes an embarrassing noise when Brad mouths him through the fabric of his boxer-briefs. One of his hands comes down to rest lightly on the back of Brad’s head.
After a minute or two, Brad pulls away and gently snaps the elastic against Ray's hip. "Take 'em off," he tells Ray and crawls off the bed. He takes the few steps needed to pull one of his desk drawers open and comes back with a bottle of lube and a condom.
Ray is in the process of shimmying out of his underwear and he glances at the items when Brad deposits them on the mattress. There's a nervous knot starting to form in the pit of his stomach, but he tries a grin and pitches his boxer-briefs at Brad.
Brad laughs at that and steps out of his soccer shorts before joining Ray back on the bed.
Ray's glad for the kiss Brad presses to his mouth, and he closes his eyes and lets himself sink into it until he hears the sort of obscene squirt of the lube.
“I could get used to this,” Brad murmurs and nudges Ray’s legs apart with his knee, situating himself between them. “You, spread out on my bed.”
“Yeah?” Ray hopes he sounds a little more confident than he feels. He thinks he must because Brad flashes him a crooked grin. Ray hitches his legs up and spreads his knees farther apart, watching Brad a touch apprehensively. He swallows hard and tells himself to relax when Brad’s hand dips down and one lubed finger brushes his entrance. He grinds his teeth together when the finger pushes in and there’s a flare of pain. Ray almost doesn’t even realize that he’s holding his breath until Brad’s free hand falls on his sternum, rubbing.
“Hey, relax,” Brad says gently.
Ray presses his lips together and stares up at the ceiling instead of looking at Brad. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a shaky breath when Brad’s finger pushes deeper. “Brad,” he says, voice a little choked. “Brad, stop.”
Brad does. Ray feels Brad shift around but he doesn’t open his eyes until the fingers of one of Brad’s hands comes up to cup his jaw.
“‘m sorry.”
“Why?” Brad asks and sits with his back against the wall where his headboard would be if he had one. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”
“Yeah, but I -- ”
Brad just shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. C’mere.”
Ray lets Brad push and pull and tug at him until he’s straddling Brad’s lap, close enough that he can feel Brad’s warm breath on his face. He feels Brad’s arms slide low around his hips, holding him tightly.
“What’s wrong?” Brad asks quietly. “Talk to me. I can’t do anything to fix it if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“It’s just -- it’s been a while,” Ray says after a lengthy pause, turning his head to stare at the cork board over Brad’s desk. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was with Walt and I’m -- it makes me nervous.” He feels a puff of air hit his cheek and he realizes Brad was holding his breath.
“Was I hurting you?”
Ray swallows a couple of times. “A little,” he admits, and Brad’s lips finds his jaw, dropping little kisses there. He turns his head back around so that one of the kisses falls on the corner of his mouth. “But it -- it wasn’t too bad. I’m just -- ”
“Nervous,” Brad supplies, and Ray nods. “That’s okay.”
Ray gives him a skeptical look, but Brad just smiles and kisses him repeatedly until Ray finds himself nodding. He opens his mouth a little to the next kiss and lets Brad lick his way inside. His arms come up to wind around Brad’s shoulders, one hand sliding up into the short hair at the back of Brad’s neck.
Brad starts brushing one hand lightly up and down Ray’s back, fingers tracing the little bumps of his spine as they kiss.
Ray moans softly into Brad’s mouth and leans into him, the tension and nerves slowly slipping out of his muscles. He doesn’t even register the movement of Brad’s hand until he feels a finger slowly push into him. Ray makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Brad’s hand stills.
“Okay?” Brad asks softly against Ray’s mouth, sucking at his bottom lip.
"Mm." Ray hums and gives Brad's neck a squeeze.
Brad doesn't move his hand for a minute or two, just keeps up the exchange of lazy, thorough kisses. When he feels Ray totally relax against him again, he starts a slow thrust. His mouth tips up in a crooked smile at the quiet gasp that falls out of Ray's mouth.
"Shit, Brad," Ray breathes and presses his cheek against Brad's, nosing along the curve of his jaw.
Brad nips at Ray's earlobe. "Don't worry, I've got you." He doesn't try for another finger until he starts to feel Ray's hips pushing back against his hand. "That's it, baby."
Ray sucks his own bottom lip between his teeth and then lets out a pleased little sigh.
Brad mouths at the soft skin below Ray's ear and just spends a few minutes slowly fucking Ray with his fingers until it's an easy slide, and Ray's gasping and moaning and grinding against him. He pulls his hand free and rips the condom open, grinning when Ray's hand comes down to help roll it on him. "C'mon." Brad's hands find Ray's hips, and he tugs him up to his knees, pulling him closer. "You do it."
Ray kisses Brad hard and reaches down to curl his fingers around Brad's cock, holding him steady as he slowly lets himself sink down. He lets out a soft moan and reaches up to cup the sides of Brad's face in his hands, kissing him again. "Fuck."
Brad's jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth against the urge to start moving before Ray's ready. He makes a noise in his throat and tightens his hold on Ray's hips when Ray rolls them experimentally. "Ray."
"Oh." Ray does it again. "Oh."
Brad swallows hard and lets his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.
"Feel good?" Ray asks and finds a slow rhythm.
"Yes. God, yes."
Ray grins at him until Brad thrusts up once, hard. "Fuck!"
Brad returns the grin and rubs his thumbs against Ray's hipbones. "C'mon," he urges.
Ray doesn't have to be told twice.
When Ray wakes up in the morning, he’s alone in the full bed. He wonders how Brad managed to get out from between him and the wall without his noticing it. He shifts around in the tangle of covers until he can peer at the silver clock-radio on Brad’s desk which tells him it’s only a little after 8 AM.
If he’s being totally honest, he’s sort of perturbed by the fact that he’s woken up by himself after last night. Not that he’s ever going to fucking admit that out loud, and most especially not to Brad.
Ray sits up and crawls out of the low bed. He’s still completely naked as he searches the floor for his clothes. He wonders briefly if maybe Brad’s intention was for him to stay that way, but then he finds them folded neatly on the seat of Brad’s desk chair. Ray tugs on the black t-shirt he’d been wearing under his button-down and then pulls on his boxer-briefs.
Instead of putting his jeans back on, he digs through Brad’s dresser drawers and comes up with a pair of charcoal gray sweatpants. They’re way too long for him, but he pulls them on anyway.
The door to Brad’s bedroom isn’t totally shut. When Ray pulls it open and pokes his head out into the hallway, he can hear muffled conversation coming from the main room.
“Dawg, you’ve got to fucking be kidding me. If you’re really into the nerdy, hipster, emo shit, I’m sure Nate could’ve hooked you up with a nice girl from one of his classes.” Poke doesn’t even bother to keep his voice down.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Brad asks, even as Nate says, “Oh, fuck you.”
Ray gets this uncomfortable feeling and swallows hard, trying to decide whether or not he should just stay in Brad’s room. Eventually he shuffles down the long hallway, past the open door of Nate’s bedroom, and into the living room.
The living room and the kitchen are separated only by a long stretch of island counter. Nate and Poke are both sitting on bar stools on the living room side while Brad’s in the kitchen, leaning with his forearms against the counter top, a mug of coffee between his hands.
Brad straightens up when he notices Ray. Some of the anxiety Ray had been feeling about the whole situation dissipates when he sees the hungry way Brad looks him over, gaze lingering on the sweatpants. Brad’s mouth curves up into a little smile. “Morning. You want some coffee?”
“Sure,” Ray replies. He tries not to stare for too long at Brad’s shirtless torso since they’re not alone. “Thank you,” he tells Brad when he pushes a hot mug of coffee into his hand.
“You’re welcome,” Brad replies with a smile. He goes back to his bent-over position against the counter, one hand curling back around his own mug of coffee.
Poke stares at Ray for a long minute before he turns his attention back to Brad. “We were planning on heading over to the Rec Center around 11, meeting up with some of the guys. You’re comin’, right?” he asks, leaning over to dump his empty mug into the sink.
Ray tries to keep his face neutral when Brad’s gaze slides over to him, and then especially so when Nate and Poke both look at him. He lifts his mug up to take a sip from his coffee.
“No, I don’t think so,” Brad replies with a shake his head. He’s still looking at Ray.
Poke’s expression turns incredulous. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Brad replies, taking a long sip out of his mug of coffee. He looks back toward Poke, watching him over the rim of his mug, eyebrows raised a little.
The uncomfortable feeling that settled in Ray's stomach earlier just gets a little bit worse. He has half a mind to tell Brad to just go to the Rec Center, that he’s got work due later this week that he can go home and get done.
“You can bring Ray with you,” Nate points out.
Ray doesn’t particularly like the way Nate phrases that - like they don’t see him standing there; like they don’t actually want him around, but if it means Brad will go, they’ll put up with him. Ray keeps his mouth shut. He’s not about to put himself in the middle of whatever the fuck is going on here.
Brad just shakes his head and drains the last of his coffee. “I’m sure you guys can survive one Sunday without me,” he says. He dumps his mug into the sink with Poke’s and then straightens up. He pushes away from the counter and flashes a smile at Ray, heading back down the hallway leading to his bedroom.
He debates for a minute or two whether or not he should say anything to Poke and Nate, but he eventually settles on just smiling at them. Ray turns to follow Brad down the hallway, clutching the coffee mug to his chest. It isn’t until he’s back in Brad’s bedroom with the door shut behind them that he says, “You can go, if you want. I’ve got some schoolwork I can do today.”
Brad turns his head to look at him. There’s a lengthy stretch where he doesn’t say anything, just stares at Ray. Eventually he shakes his head and finishes turning on his computer. “Do you actually have work to do, or are you just saying that?” he asks, even though it’s obvious by the expression on his face that he already thinks it’s the latter.
Ray shrugs his shoulders. “Poke and Nate obviously don’t like me much, and I don’t want to be the reason--”
“Poke and Nate don’t know you,” Brad cuts him off. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Once you guys get to know each other, you’ll get along fine.”
Ray’s not so sure about that, based on what he just heard, but he just nods his head once. “Okay.” He takes another sip of his coffee and then sets the mug on the corner of the desk, moving to sit on the edge of Brad’s bed.
Brad watches him quietly, and Ray tries not to fidget under the scrutiny. Brad pushes away from his desk and rolls over the short distance between the desk and bed. His hands settle on the outside of Ray’s knees. “There’s always that period of adjustment when you start dating someone new,” he says.
“Yeah.” Ray stares down at the corner of Brad’s down comforter. He doesn’t look up until he feels Brad’s fingers under his chin, and then Brad’s kissing him. After a minute of coaxing on Brad’s part, Ray finally opens his mouth to let Brad’s tongue in to slide against his.
One of Brad’s hands finds the back of Ray’s neck and then Brad is climbing out of the desk chair and flattening Ray across the full bed, never breaking the kiss.
Ray makes a noise of surprise that’s muffled by Brad’s mouth over his, but he winds one of his arms low around Brad’s waist. When Brad’s hands slide down his body to start pushing at the sweats, Ray laughs. “They’re still here, Brad.”
Brad nips at Ray’s bottom lip and then starts to slide down Ray’s torso, leaving a trail of light bites and kisses. “So?”
“We’re not fucking while Nate and Poke are around to hear us,” he says.
Brad grins and moves the sweats enough out of the way that he can mouth down the side of Ray’s rapidly hardening dick. “Yes, we are.”
Ray gasps and arches his hips up off the mattress. “Okay.”
Ray finishes wiping down the counter and drapes the rag over his shoulder, looking up when he hears someone clear their throat. He stills for a minute when he realizes that it’s Nate standing there, but then he moves over to the cash register. “What can I get for you?” he asks as he punches in his numbers.
Nate offers him a small smile. “Surprise me.”
Ray eyes Nate for a minute or two before he starts tapping the screen. “What size?”
“A venti.”
“Okay. It’s four dollars.” Ray swipes the silver debit card Nate hands him and then hands it back. He turns to start making the drink and hears the clink of change in the tip jar they keep on the counter. When he’s done making it, he drops the cup into a cardboard sleeve and sets it on the serving counter. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” Nate pulls the cup closer to himself but stays leaning there, watching him. “Do you have a minute or two?”
Ray glances toward the register, but there’s no one in line. He shrugs his shoulders and starts cleaning again more for something to do than because it really needs cleaned. “Yeah,” he answers vaguely.
Nate is quiet for a minute and then lets out a little sigh. “Look, I wanted to apologize.”
Ray tries not to look surprised. “Apologize for what?”
Nate’s mouth tips up into a sardonic smile. “For the way I acted last week. For being rude,” he explains. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“No,” Ray replies with a little shake of his head. “I didn’t.”
“We were surprised,” Nate tells him. “I knew that Brad wasn’t strictly interested in girls, but it’s one thing when it’s an abstract idea. It’s another thing entirely when he introduces his new boyfriend.” He stares at Ray like he’s willing him to understand, green eyes wide and honest. “And I owe you an apology for the way I acted because it was unacceptable.”
They stand there staring at each other for a moment before Ray slowly nods, allowing himself to smile the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he says. Ray glances down at the hand Nate offers and then takes it firmly. “Sorry, my hand is sticky.”
Nate laughs. “That’s all right,” he says. He finally takes a sip of his drink and makes a noise in the back of his throat. “What is this?”
Ray shrugs his shoulders. “It’s an upside down Caramel Macchiato.”
“It’s really, really good,” Nate tells him with a smile.
“I’m glad you like it,” Ray tells him. He flashes a smile at Brad when he notices the blond approaching them.
The smile that Brad gives him in return is small and tight, and he glances warily between Nate and Ray, making no attempt to hide that fact. “What’s going on?” he asks.
Nate looks briefly shame-faced that Brad even has to ask that question. “I owed Ray an apology,” he says.
Ray smiles reassuringly when Brad’s gaze switches to him. “It’s all good, homes,” he says.
Brad and Nate both seem to relax when Ray says that, and Nate smiles at Ray again. “I’ve got to be across campus in ten minutes, so I’ll see you guys later.” He grins when Ray offers a fist, and bumps his own against it.
“Bye, Nate.” Brad turns his attention back to Ray and raises his eyebrows. “If it’s not really fine, you can tell me.”
Ray ducks his head to hide a grin. “It’s really fine, Brad,” he says. “You want your usual, or did you just stop by to see my pretty face?”
“The first one, obviously.” Brad grins when Ray whips the towel at him.
Ray spins his keys around on his finger as he makes his way up the flight of stairs to the second floor. He’s surprised to find Walt sitting against his door. “Hey,” he greets him.
Walt climbs to his feet and gets out of the way so that Ray can open the door up. “Hey. Did you close up late?”
The bag Ray’s carrying gets set on the small table just inside the door and he flips the light on with his elbow. “Sort of,” he replies. “It was busy so I didn’t really have time to do any of the closing work beforehand.”
Walt just nods and follows Ray deeper into his apartment and ends up leaned against the doorjamb of Ray’s bedroom. “I figured you’d be hungry. Thought we could grab a bite to eat and then figure out something to do tonight.”
Ray’s in the process of pulling his Converse off, hopping up and down on one foot as he does it. “Man.” He slaps a hand down on the edge of his mattress to keep from falling over. “I would, but I’m going to dinner with Brad, and then we’re going to this party--”
“Of course you are.”
The bitter way Walt says that makes Ray pause and look up. “What the fuck, dude?”
Walt is glaring at Ray’s floor lamp, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He lets out an agitated sigh and then just shakes his head. “Nothing.” He’s probably trying for neutral, but falls short.
Ray stares for a good thirty seconds or so with his mouth hanging open. “Okay, you know what? I’m getting really sick and tired of the snide comments and the shitty attitude. So if you’ve got something to say, grow some fucking balls and spit it out already.”
"Fine," Walt pushes himself up from where he's leaning in the doorway. "You want to know what's bothering me? How about the fact that while we were dating you never wanted to go out, and if you did actually go you stood in a corner all night acting like it was fucking killing you to be there. But now that you're fucking Brad Colbert all you talk about is going here, and going there, and hanging out with the team, and--"
Ray cuts Walt off with an indignant noise. "Are you fucking kidding me, Walt?" he asks, staring incredulously. "You're being a pissy little cunt because you're jealous?"
Walt scowls. "What do you fucking expect, Ray? I'm still in fucking love with you!"
The air kind of sticks in Ray's throat at that. "You -- you're what?"
"You fucking heard me."
Ray swallows hard. "I -- I didn't know."
Walt shoots him a dirty look. "What the fuck do you mean, 'you didn't know?'" he asks. "Are you fucking retarded?"
"You should have told me," Ray says, his voice dropping in volume. "Why didn't you say something when we decided to stop dating?"
Walt scoffs. "You decided we should stop dating."
Ray throws his arms up, exasperated. "You agreed to it!"
"You'd pretty much made up your mind at that point. I didn't think there was any point in trying to talk you out of it," Walt says. There's a long moment of silence where they just stare at each other. "Would telling you I was in love with you have made a difference?" Walt eventually asks, quietly.
Ray swallows and takes a minute or two to answer. "Well, yeah," he replies. Ray runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it a little. "I knew you cared about me, but you never seemed -- I felt like I was putting more into it than you were, and I was tired of not getting anything back. I was tired of feeling like you were just along for the ride."
Walt doesn't answer and doesn't look at Ray either. He sniffs a little and clears his throat, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.
“Walt.” Ray takes a step closer, one of his Converse still clutched in his hand.
“‘m gonna go,” Walt mumbles. “I’ll see you later.” He turns and walks out, ignoring when Ray calls his name again. The front door barely makes a noise behind him, and Ray thinks he would have rather heard it slam closed.
It’s been almost an entire week, and he hasn’t heard a word from Walt. Normally Walt either texts or calls him every day. Ray resists the urge to send a quick text to see if he’s okay and tucks his phone back into his pocket. He goes back to restocking the small pastry bar until a girl comes up to order.
She isn’t outright rude, but she’s not very friendly either, and Ray thinks it fucking figures. It’s going to be one of those days.
He uses the back of his hand to rub at his eye and then sets about making her drink. Ray slides it across the counter and flashes what’s undoubtedly the most fake smile he’s ever managed. When he turns back to the register, Brad’s leaning there, watching him. “Hey,” Ray murmurs.
“Hey, excuse me.” The girl is still standing at the serving counter, looking mildly irritated. She lifts the cup briefly. “This isn’t the right drink,” she tells him. “I wanted hazelnut. You made me vanilla.”
Ray just manages not to swear and remakes her drink. “I’m really sorry about that,” he tells her. He slides a coupon for a free drink across the counter along with the new cup.
She looks mostly mollified and takes the new drink and the coupon. “It’s fine. Thanks.”
He stares at the abandoned drink for a second before he grabs it with a sigh.
“I’ll drink it,” Brad tells him when he turns toward the trashcan to throw it away. “It’s what I always drink anyway,” he points out.
“You don’t have to. I’ll make you a new one.”
Brad makes a gesture, shaking his head. “No sense in throwing away a perfectly good drink. She only took a sip.”
Ray still doesn’t look convinced but he pops the lid off and replaces it with a new one, sliding it across the counter for Brad.
“So what’s going on?” Brad curls his hand around the drink and leans his hip against the counter, glancing over his shoulder once to make sure there’s no one behind him.
Ray waves vaguely, indicating the coffee stand. “Working.”
Brad’s eyebrows go up a little. “Clearly. I meant with you.” He sips the drink, still watching Ray closely.
“What do you mean? I’m fine.”
“Ray, I’ve been coming in here at least three days a week, for three hours every day, for the last six months, and I’ve never seen you fuck anything up,” Brad says evenly. “And you haven’t been acting like yourself.” He meets Ray’s gaze when Ray shoots him a look. “You’re pulling away, and I want to know why.”
It’s occasions like this that Ray really begins to hate that Brad is always so direct. “Walt and I got into it the other day, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What were you fighting about?” Brad asks, voice sort of quiet so that they won’t be easily overheard.
Ray shrugs his shoulders and uses his thumbnail to trace a pattern in the counter. “He’s jealous.”
Brad doesn’t really look surprised. “Ah.” He takes another sip of his drink and they stand there in silence for a minute or two. “He’ll come around, Ray. You just have to give him some space. I know that’s not easy for you, but you have to let him work it out.”
“I know, but I don’t have to like it,” Ray mutters.
“No, you don’t,” Brad agrees and smiles a little.
Ray sighs and leans down so that he can rest his elbow on the counter, propping his chin in his hand. He peers at Brad for a long minute and then furrows his brow. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asks, finally noticing that Brad’s sporting a bruised and split lip.
Brad flashes a bit of a grin. “It’s fine,” he says. “Poke and I finally had it out last night in the living room. He busted my lip, and I gave him a black eye. But it’s all good now. Back to your regularly scheduled programming.”
“What did Nate do?” Ray asks.
Brad shrugs. “Ate some popcorn.”
Ray continues to stare at him before he just shakes his head and says, “You’re a bunch of fucking retards.”
Brad laughs and leans over the counter to kiss him. “Thanks.”
It wouldn’t be too cold if it weren’t for the fact that the sun is dropping fast and the wind is picking up. Ray shoves his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he’s wearing and hunches down some. He shuffles his feet while he waits and hums to himself. He can hear the booth doing sound checks on the PA system and he can smell it in the air when the grill gets fired up.
A single file line rounds the corner and heads toward him and the door he’s standing in front of.
Ray slides a few feet out of the way and murmurs greetings to the members of the team who say hi to him. He can’t help but grin some when Nate purposely bumps into him as he files past. “Hey. Good luck.”
Nate flashes a grin back. “Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he replies and claps Ray on the shoulder.
“All the same.” Ray turns his attention back to the rest of the team and can’t help but be surprised that Poke stops even though he knows things are worked out.
“Hey, bro.” Poke’s still sort of sporting a black eye, a week later.
“Hey.” Ray bumps his knuckles against the offered fist and returns the smile Poke gives him.
Brad’s grin when he stops is wide. He tugs once on the too-long sleeve of the leather jacket Ray has on. “I was wondering where this went,” he says, sounding fond. “Thief.”
“Finder’s keepers,” Ray says and pushes himself up onto his toes to kiss Brad. “Have fun.”
“Always.” Brad winks at him and follows the rest of the team into the locker room.
Ray stands there for a second or two after the door closes before he heads back around to the other side of the stadium, where the main gate is. He flashes his ID and walks in, hooking a right down the second set of steps. He drops down onto his usual row of bleachers a few back from the front and bounces his legs up and down as he waits, too full of nervous, happy energy to sit completely still.
The stadium slowly fills in around him, and both teams file out onto the field to start warming up for the game.
Ray watches the warm-ups with a little smile and lets out a breath when the buzzer on the scoreboard sounds. He hears the PA crackle to life to start the introductions for each team’s starting line-up, but Ray’s distracted when he’s jostled a little as someone slides onto the bleacher next to him.
A platter of nachos loaded down with cheese and jalapenos is shoved right under his nose. “Thought you might have the nervous munchies,” Walt tells him, his grin a little uneasy.
That heavy sort of crushing weight he’s been carrying around in his chest for the last two weeks lifts and Ray grins broadly at Walt. He sees the rest of the tension leave Walt’s shoulders and Ray resists the urge he gets to wrap him up in a hug. “Thanks, homes.”
Walt bumps his shoulder into Ray’s. “You’re welcome.”
Ray takes a handful of nachos and looks out onto the field, sees the way Brad, Nate, and Poke all jump into each other at the same time, and he grins.