fic: now country roads

[l_s_d_me]

Title: fic: now country roads
Author: l_s_d_me
Pairing: Ray/Walt
Rating: R
Word: 6780
Disclaimer: Pure fiction, based off the performances of the actors in the HBO series. All poorly constructed sentences, errors, and general bad writing is my own. Title taken from the John Denver song, “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
Summary: Set during the end of Bomb in the Garden; Walt follows Ray after the football game.

The game had been going on for an hour or so before Walt made his way over to watch. In the real world Walt wouldn’t have even bothered to go watch them play because football never really held his interest. But he had just spent hours with Brad and Trombley doing inventory, and what else was he going to do.

They were broken into two teams, shirts and skins, yelling like maniacs and jumping around. Except for Brad, who stood there not amused with his weapon still on like some hardcore referee. Walt thinks of how funny it would be to see Brad standing there like that at a professional football game. And he’s sure the players, who all act tough, would probably go screaming to their mothers at the sight of him.

Because the sun is low and in his eyes, it takes Walt a few minutes of scanning the field before he finds Ray

He’s on the shirts team, and the collar of his green USMC t-shirt is drenched in sweat. It surprises Walt a little that Ray is so into this game. He seems like the kind of guy who would rather sit at a kitchen table smoking and talking until the sun comes up than play football.

Walt is staring in Ray’s direction when out of the corner of his eye he sees Captain Patterson jump on top of Encino Man, punching him. While others are cheering him on or just yelling out in shock, Walt just stands there, watching, staying out of the way.

His eyes find Ray, who is smiling at the chaos, but not getting involved in it either.

After they reset, Ray is opposite Rudy. Walt wonders who paired them up. He can hear Ray taunting him, and it makes Walt smile because he’d been so quiet the past few days. But then Rudy hits him, hard, and before Walt can even blink Ray is racing through the crowd, tackling Rudy.

Walt’s first instinct is to reach out, but he stays where he is at the perimeter, painfully watching Rudy land blow after blow to Ray. He starts walking forward, only making it about five steps before stopping when he sees them pulled apart.

He’s breathing fast, like it was him and not Ray who had just been in a fight. Walt can feel his heart rate quickening. Part of him want to punch something, anything; while the other half wants to hug Ray. It surprises him. He doesn’t think he’s ever had the urge to comfort someone as much as he does right now.

“Rudy! You fucking PTSD psycho! You're just like every other jock piece of shit in high school!” Ray is screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to pry himself out of Jacks’ hold.

Something in Walt’s gut twists at his words. Ray’s so likeable, even if he is a lot to handle. Walt never thought of him as the kind of guy who would get picked on by jocks. After all, he’s a bad ass recon marine. But when Ray starts yelling, and tears start streaming down his cheeks, Walt knows that Ray wasn’t always the person he is now.

Ray is walking towards him, eyes on the ground, furiously wiping tears off his face. Walt realizes that Ray doesn’t see him at all as he storms past him. He turns, wanting to call out to him, but his words stick in his throat. So he ends up just watching Ray walk past, pain written across both their faces.

Walt sees Brad angle behind him, still holding that gun.

“Hey, you alright?” Brad calls out to Ray, who ignores him. Brad stands there for a minute, watching him go before giving up, turning to walk towards where the LT is sitting far off to the side. Rudy calling to Ray in the background, but it’s pointless.

“Maybe we shouldn’t play football anymore,” someone yells from the field. And maybe they don’t, but Walt doesn’t stick around to find out.

It takes Walt exactly three minutes and twenty-eight seconds to find Ray.
Walt freezes when he comes around the other side of the stadium, opposite where all the humvees are parked where everyone stays. Ray is sitting on the ground with his knees pulled up towards his body. He’s got his shirt in his hands, crumpled up and covering his face.

Something deep inside of Walt twists as he walks closer and closer.

He thinks about calling out to Ray to let him know he’s there and who he is. Instead, he walks quietly up to Ray, leans his back against the wall and slides down next to him mirroring his posture. Walt says nothing. He’s simply there, a comforting presence by his side.

It’s another three minutes before they speak.

“I’m fine, Walt,” Ray says with his face still buried in his t-shirt.

Walt smiles to himself at Ray knowing it was him without even speaking to or looking at him. It makes him happier than he thought it probably should, he thinks.

“I know you are.” Walt leans his head back against the wall and looks up into the darkening sky. The setting sun is on the other side of the stadium where the game was taking place, leaving Ray and Walt sitting in near darkness, with only the dark blue and orange sky above them.

“The thing is,” Walt starts. “You’ve got my Pop Tart in your pocket, remember?” He pauses to playfully nudge Ray’s leg with his own, right where one of his pockets are. “After all, I had to trade with like four people to get that thing and I’m not about to let it go to waste in your fucking pocket.”

Ray drops his shirt next to him, looking over at Walt.

“You’re such a messed up hick, Hasser. That was like four fucking days ago. And you ate it right in front of me like the fucking cocktease that you are.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right.” Walt just shrugs and goes back to looking at the sky. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Ray’s reluctant smile. That’s why he followed Ray. Walt knew that if he could get Ray to smile that it would be okay, that he would be okay.

“I just….” But that’s as far as Ray gets, throwing his shirt on the ground next to him.

It confuses Walt to see Ray at a loss for words. It’s not something that has ever happened before and it’s kind of unsettling. No matter what situation they were in, Ray was there running his mouth about his band, the war, or even yelling for people to back the fuck up during fire fights.

He thinks this silence might be scarier than being shot at.

“Are you okay, man?” Walt finally asks, unable to hold the question back any longer. Ray exhales hard next to him, leaning his head back against the stadium wall.

“Yeah…I’m fine. It’s just that I thought we were past all this bullying shit.”

Walt hears how weakly Ray says, “we” like he really wants to say “I” but can’t bring himself to admit it out loud.

They all know what the corps is like though. It’s full of alpha males trying to prove themselves to each other; who’s stronger, quicker, smarter, even who has a bigger dick, is tested and pried at every single day. But there’s a difference between that and Rudy body checking Ray into the dirt just because he could. And Walt realizes now that that’s what’s bothering Ray so much.

“Is that why you tackled him? You were bullied a lot in high school.” Walt doesn’t phrase the last one as a question because it’s not anymore.

“Fuck, Hasser,” Ray looks at Walt square on. “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what the fuck is wrong,” Ray tells him with a hint of awe in his voice. “It’s those goddamn Jedi powers you have.”

“You’re such an idiot, Ray. There’s not enough brain in there for me to even bother with.” Walt laughs out.

“Fuck you,” Ray says as he pushes Walt in the shoulder, almost knocking him over. Walt elbows him in the side right before Ray slides his arm around the back of Walt’s neck like he’s going to put him in a choke hold. But he doesn’t. He stops with his arm just resting on Walt’s shoulders.

Walt can feel the heat coming off of Ray’s arm through his thin t-shirt, noticing how comforting it is to have Ray right there, lightly holding onto him.

“No really,” Ray says, squeezing Walt’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Walt turns his head to look at Ray who is right there, inches from his face. It’s the first time since he’s gotten over there that he sees Ray clearly. Walt lets his eyes roam across his face. Ray’s eyes are a little red from crying and there’s a spot above his eyebrow that had been bleeding, but had probably stopped from the pressure Ray applied with his shirt. But it still makes him pause.

“Let me look at that.” Walt’s moving his hands up to Ray’s face before he can pull away. He’s got one hand cupping the side of Ray’s face, right below his jaw, while the other one is gently pushing on the area around the cut.

“I think you’ll live,” Walt says, moving his eyes back down to Ray’s. He doesn’t let go of his face though. He can’t. The way Ray is looking at him is holding him there. Walt suddenly realizes that Ray’s hand has been grasping the back of his neck. It must flicker through his eyes that he’s registered it because Ray begins to slowly move his thumb in small circles at the nape of his neck.

Walt leans into it, his tongue flickers out, wetting the corner of his mouth. Ray’s eyes are drawn there as he rakes his teeth along his bottom lip. Walt wants nothing more than to close the few inches of space between them. And he almost does, but then he hears voices in the distance.

Ray’s eyes dart to the direction they’re coming from before he smiles a little smile at Walt as they let go of each other, moving apart. Walt thinks he will remember that smile until the day he dies.

“I think Lilley’s gonna finish his movie tonight,” Walt says, thankful that his voice is so even. “And you should probably check in with Brad,” he mumbled at the end.

“What the fuck did you just say, Hasser?!”

Walt ignores him, standing up to stretch. He looks down at where Ray is still seated and grins at him, shrugging. “What? You didn’t see him, he looked like he was about to pop a 203 round into Rudy’s chest.”

“Shit homes.” Ray grabs his shirt, sliding it back on before standing up too. Walt can’t help but note how close they’re standing in the dark. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but because of where they are at heavy shadows surround them. It feels private even though there are a few men walking around the corner of the building.

Walt wonders if they can see them, if he could get closer to Ray and not have them see. He glances at Ray and sees the same sort of look on his face, like he’s considering it too. They both breathe out a small laugh and start walking.

Hours later, the whole of Bravo is sitting in a cafeteria like room drinking, playing cards, and gossiping like the knitting circle they secretly are. Walt is sitting off to the side with Garza and a few others when he hears Lilley yell out that his movie is finished.

He hasn’t seen Ray since they parted ways at the corner of the stadium earlier. Walt hopes he’s okay. Brad’s here looking relaxed and talking to the LT, and Walt doesn’t think that that would be the case if Ray hadn’t found and talked to him.

Standing in the back of the group, Walt is laughing and smiling along with everyone else to Lilley’s movie when he sees Ray out of the corner of his eye. He walks straights towards where Brad is still sitting off to the side, and hands him one of the two Styrofoam cups he’s carrying.

Walt watches them. Ray is smiling at Brad like nothing’s wrong at all, and Brad just shakes his head at him. Relief washes through Walt at the sight.

When he turns his eyes back to the movie something else is being blown up, and the group is cheering. Walt can feel a presence behind him. He knows it’s Ray before he moves into Walt’s peripheral vision.

A moment later is a shot of Ray kissing an Iraqi’s cheek. Walt grins, suddenly feeling bashful after what had almost happened between them earlier. He can feel Ray move closer to him while the guys are laughing at an exploding building. Walt is trying to remain calm and ambivalent, but Ray has moved forward enough to where the back of his hand is resting against Walt’s.

It’s no more than a grazing of hands, but it feels like so much more. Walt flexes his hand so it moves against Ray’s. He wants him to know that he can feel his intention.

“Walt,” Ray whispers impossibly low. “I talked to Daddy, he said I can go out tonight.”

Walt knows that a small blush is moving up the back of his neck, there’s nothing he can do about that. He laughs quietly, turning his head almost imperceptibly so Ray can see the smile in his eyes.

“You’re such a girl.” Walt whispers, sliding two of his fingers against Ray’s. It only lasts for a second, a mere instant, and then Walt moves away with the dissipating crowd. He couldn’t tell you what had been happening on screen, but Walt does know that the area between Ray’s middle and pointer finger is smoother than he thought it’d be.

The next two hours are spent checking and re-checking gear. Most of the men are off drinking the gin they bought off the Iraqis. Walt didn’t feel like it. He can’t stop thinking about the touch of Ray’s hand on the back of his neck, or the way it felt to just be that close to him.

“Hasser,” Brad says, coming up from around the back of the humvee with a stack of papers in his hand. “Have you seen Ray around?”

“Not since earlier.” Walt’s putting up the supplies he was using to clean his gun.

“The LT planned a little vacation us tomorrow, and I don’t want him to desecrate anything while we’re there.” Brad looks around the area, down at the forms he’s holding, and then exhales. Walt’s watching him try to decide what to do.

He stands up, wiping his hands off on his pants. “I’ll go find him, Brad. You go ahead and work on that,” Walt says, gesturing towards the paper Brad’s holding.

“Thanks Walt,” Brad nods and pulls a pen out of one of the lower pockets on his pants. Walt absently notices that it’s one of the pens that LT always had right in the front of his vest. He almost asks Brad why he has it, or what happened to the ten pens they had in their humvee at any time during the past three weeks, but that thought is gone the minute Brad is out of his sight.

Walt knows exactly where Ray is. He walks out past all the humvees, crossing by the fence where they had bought the alcohol earlier that day, and then around the edge of the stadium towards where Walt had found Ray after his fight with Rudy.

There in the darkness is a tiny orange glow breaking through the night.

“Jesus fucking Christ, took you long enough, Hasser.” Ray’s voice is coming out of the shadows as he extinguishes the orange light coming from the end of his cigarette.

“The fuck you talking about?” There’s only about three feet between the two of them now. Walt is standing with is hands resting on his hips. “I’ve been where I was supposed to be; where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come and find me,” Ray says, reaching out lightly touch Walt’s stomach. Walt can feel that touch everywhere, through his veins and swimming around his head. “Plus I know how much you love treasure hunts.”

“You calling yourself a treasure, Person?” Walt is slowly moving closer and closer to Ray. He can’t be more than six inches away from Ray now, moving them both closer to the wall. Neither one of them is touching the other one, there’s just eyes watching and tongues wetting lips.

“Wouldn’t you call me that? I’m a fucking priceless work of art.” But the biting tone that’s usually behind Ray’s words is gone. It’s as if he’s just letting the words come out. Walt is watching his mouth as he speaks and realizes he wants to taste the words as they come out of his mouth.

That’s when it dawns on him. He knows why they’re there and Ray knows why they’re there. Walt’s a marine goddamn-it and he’s not going to tip-toe around this anymore. He drags his eyes up from Ray’s mouth to meet his eyes once more, grinning, he pushes him the last couple inches into the wall and moves in.

He dips down a little so he has to slide up into Ray’s space, rubbing their bodies together. Ray’s brown eyes are wide, and look even darker than they usually do.

“I’d say you’re something alright,” Walt whispers before pressing his lips to Ray’s. As their mouths move together Walt can taste his cigarettes and a little tinge of alcohol. He’s pretty sure it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When Ray snakes his arms around Walt, fisting his shirt in his hands and pulling Walt closer, the mood changes. They both moan in to each other’s mouth the moment their tongues meet. Walt slides his hands up from Ray’s shoulders to grasp the sides of his face.

They’re all tongues, and hands, and closeness, when Walt feels Ray melt against him. It makes his heart beat faster, and his stomach feel tighter to know that Ray is lost in this; whatever this is.

“Walt,” Ray breathes out. “Fuck. Who knew you were hiding that mouth on you?”

There’s a smile on Walt’s lips as he kisses Ray below the ear, feeling him shudder against him.

“You don’t even know,” Walt whispers, grazing the outside of Ray’s ear with his tongue.

“Holy shit.” Ray pulls his head back so he’s looking Walt in the eye. “Seriously. Where the hell have you been hiding at?”

“Sorry, Ray, I was a little too distracted by the war we’ve been in to show off my sexual prowess to you.”

“Sexual prowess? Who says shit like that?” Ray’s laughing quietly. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Brad too long.”

“Ahhh fuck. Brad.” Walt brings his hand away from Ray’s face, which he couldn’t bring himself to move earlier, and runs it through his hair. He feels like he’s resetting his brain after kissing Ray.

“He needs to talk to you, us.” Walt tries to step back from Ray to concentrate better, but Ray still has an iron grip on the back of his shirt, holding him there. He doesn’t mind at all. “Apparently LT is planning something for us to all do tomorrow and Brad wants to give you rules for how to act.”

“Brad is such a cockblock,” Ray mumbles, letting go of Walt. But Walt doesn’t move out of Ray’s space. He stands there, just as close as he was when Ray was keeping him there. The heat coming off of him is still warming Walt.

Inhaling, Walt takes in as much Ray as he can get right now. Ray has his eyes closed, his hands resting at Walt’s side.

“We’re going to finish this sometime,” Walt says before leaning up and kissing Ray on the end of the nose.

Ray lets out one of those short burst of laughter that Walt loves so much, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re a fucking cocktease, Hasser.”

Walking back over to camp nearly kills Walt. Ray keeps looking at him, waggling his eyebrows at him or licking his lips. Walt is almost regretting being so forward with him. Almost.

“Behave,” Walt whispers at him, nudging Ray with his elbow.

“Me!” Ray’s jaw drops with a look of horror. “You just jumped me behind the gym between fourth and fifth period, homes. You behave,” he finishes, poking Walt in the ribs.

“Why don’t both of you hicks behave,” Brad says, swerving into their path, coming from where Nate and Gunny have their humvee parked. Walt wants to raise his eyebrow at Brad because he’s starting to notice that Brad spends an excess amount of time with the LT, but it’s Brad, and Walt doesn’t want to be killed in his sleep.

Walt glances at Ray, both of them shrugging with compliance and trying not to smile.

“Ray,” Brad draws out. “Where the fuck have you been? I haven’t seen you look this suspicious since Australia when you pissed in my beer and tried to get me to drink it.”

“That’s fucking libelous Brad and you know it.” Ray is pointing his finger around Walt so he can poke Brad in the arm.

“Are you touching me?” Brad leans forward so he can see Ray clearly around Walt.

Walt exhales, loudly, looking between the two. Brad and Ray bicker with each other like they’ve been married for years. Sometimes he wishes he never got down from the turret so he didn’t have to hear them, but most of the time, like tonight, it’s pretty damn funny listening to Ray torture him.

“Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch,” Ray is saying as he continually reaches behind Walt to jab his finger against Brad’s arm.

“Stop it, Ray.” Brad is actually glowering at both of them.

“Leave me out of this, Brad,” Walt says, holding his hands up as a show of surrender.

Ever since the day with the ravioli, Walt has found it easier to joke a little with Brad. He still doesn’t go nearly as far as Ray does, but their relationship isn’t the same.

“You,” Brad starts to say as they walk up to their victor. “I just sent you to find Ray, not let him go off on whatever sort of whiskey tango, half-assed, special Olympics scheme he seems to be hatching.”

“Like anyone could stop him.” Walt is grumbling to Brad.

“I’m not hatching any plan,” Ray squeaks in the background at the same time Walt speaks.

There’s no scheme being hatched, Walt knows this. But he can’t very well tell Brad to relax because Ray is just a little high from lust at the moment.

Brad stands there looking at the two of them like he wishes he didn’t have to end date night so soon to come home and take care of the kiddies.

“Listen up!” Brad yells, and Trombley’s head pops out the window. “The LT worked hard to get us a pass for tomorrow, don’t fuck it up. Now go to sleep.”

Walt grabs his pack and lays his stuff out on the ground next to the humvee, rolling out his blanket to sleep on. The grass feels as soft as a down mattress to him after weeks of sleeping on dust and rocks. He falls asleep for a second because the next minute he sees Ray laying out his blanket next to his, not too close, but close enough.

“Where are we going, Brad,” Ray yells up to him.

“Ray,” Brad warns.

“What?! You were going to tell me. Please!” Ray is begging him, and Walt is doing everything he can to keep his face passive.

“I changed my mind,” Brad says, exhaling. “Now go to sleep.”

Walt may have hallucinated it, but he thinks that Ray winked at him right before falling asleep.

The next morning Walt is humming to himself as they drive to Babylon. Instead of standing at the turret, he’s sitting where Reporter sat behind Brad. Before they had left the LT had given them a speech about the history of Babylon.

He talked about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and the beauty that must have been. The history, the time, his voice had a passion in it that Walt had rarely heard out of him.

It struck Walt to see him so enthralled in what he was telling them because it’s a small glimpse at what he must be like under normal circumstances.

Walt also notices how closely Ray pays attention to what the LT is saying. It makes sense to him though because Ray always seems to have an endless fountain of knowledge over everything. He also notices how his hair looks a little lighter in the early morning sun.

But now they’re driving through the Iraq countryside on what they’ve all been referring to as a field trip.

Walt is pulled out of his revelry when he hears a low whistle come from Ray. His eyes snap forward to see them pulling through a palm grove. Even Trombley, in the seat next to him, has a smile on his face. It reminds Walt of home to see trees with sunlight filtering though them again.

After a few more minutes Saddam’s palace comes into view through the grove. This time it’s Brad who reacts first with a quiet “wow,” as if it was only for himself.

Ray turns, face smiling brightly at Walt, and suddenly it feel like they’re not at war anymore. It’s as if everything bad that had happened in the past three weeks melted away in the face of ancient and modern beauty.

They park outside the Ishtar Gate.

When Walt steps out of the humvee the air seems sweeter, cleaner than it has been in weeks. He closes his eyes, breathing deep. The presence of Ray next to him is felt before he opens his eyes.

“I like it here,” Walt says, knowing that Ray is right there next to him.

“Of course you like the Palace. Fucking Virginians and their standards,” Ray starts. “Give me a can of Busch, a Weber barbeque grill, a lawn chair and I’m fucking happy as shit, man.”

“Ray.” Nate’s voice cuts through his rambling.

They both turn towards the LT. He’s smiling at them as he nods to the front at an old man. The man tells them his name is Ishmael and he’s there to give them a tour of the ruins. It’s surreal to have a tour guide show up in what is essentially the middle of a war, but they happily go with it.

The next hour is spent walking through the ruins in the shadow of the palace. Ishmael tells them about the history, the way it used to be before the modern era. He describes them how it has all changed since Saddam built his palace and what he reconstructed of Ancient Babylon. And while Nate may look more interested than any of them in what Ishmael is telling them, the whole of Bravo is respectful, watching, listening, and enjoying some peace.

Walt and Ray drift until they end up in the back of the group. They talk about everything from music, beer, to pussy as quietly as they can so they don’t disturb the tour. But they can’t stop talking, laughing, making slight touches that linger just a little too long.

As they walk, Walt feels lighter than he has in weeks.

“Listen up!” Nate yells from the ahead of them. “I’m going to let you gents have an hour of free time. We’re going into the palace. You don’t have to if you don’t want to; feel free to stay down here.” He starts to walk up the hill with Ishmael, but stops, turning back around. “But if you are coming, try not to break anything.”

“Was that pointed at me, LT?” Ray asks, eliciting several snickers from the men.

“Oh Ray, you know me so well.”

Walt nearly doubles over with laughter with half the platoon. The other half is wide-eyed and a little dumbfounded at their LT for being sarcastic out in the open like that.

One look at Ray and Walt sees him feigning offense, one hand clutched to his chest. He has the urge to reach out and grab his hand and pull Ray away, laughing. But he can’t, not here, not now with everyone watching.

Ten minutes later and there are men everywhere strolling the grounds, some eating the bananas they bought from people selling them on the roadside earlier. Only a handful strayed into the Palace to look around more than just a perfunctory glance.

Walt sees Brad and Nate turn down a corridor to the left before scanning the hallway to make sure nobody else is around. When Walt is certain nobody is watching them he puts his hand in the middle of Ray’s back, and slides it up, eventually squeezing his neck. The smile they share is full of wanting, but also with something more, something deeper.

“So what are you doing when this is all over with?” Ray asks shyly for once.

Walt was ready for this. During the drive he decided that even with anything sexual out of the equation, he wanted to live near Ray. The camaraderie alone would make it worthwhile. If they can have this kind of relationship during the war, it can only improve outside of it. And yeah, the eventual sex will be nice too.

So Walt just shrugs, looking at Ray as nonchalantly as he can. “I’m going straight back to Virginia.”

Ray’s face falls just like Walt knew it would.

“I mean, how else am I going to pack up all my stuff and send it to Missouri?” Walt tries to hold back his smile, but can’t when he sees the joy spread through Ray’s eyes and through is whole body.

“Asshole,” Ray says, shoving Walt against a door.

Walt sways towards him, then checks himself remembering where they are.

“Ray,” he whispers, because suddenly talking regular volume seems too loud. “You do realize we’re in the middle of one of Saddam’s palaces…in Iraq…with our whole Platoon walking around. Do you really want to…ahhhhh.” Walt gets cut off by Ray grabbing his hips, and pushing their pelvises together, hard. He tries not to groan at feeling how hard Ray already is.

“Then why don’t we see what’s behind door number one.” Ray’s wiggling his eyebrows at him as he reaches behind to turn the knob of the door their leaning against.

It’s a bathroom. Thank God. Only it’s not like any bathroom Walt has ever seen before. His eyes can’t take in everything. It’s got golden trim around the mirror, and white marble sinks with golden inlay in them. There’s a door at the opposite end where the toilet is, so when it’s closed it looks like it’s just the giant marble bathtub and the sinks. It’s also the biggest bathroom Walt’s ever seen.

He hears a low whistle from next to him. “This is bigger than my fucking house, man.”

Walt turns slowly, letting his smile go a little wild. “We are not living in a house smaller than this bathroom, dude.”

“So now we’re buying a house together now? You’re so fucking pushy, Hasser.”

“Me?” Walt says, walking Ray backwards until he has him pressed against the sink, running his hands up and down Ray’s arms. “You’re the one who just shoved me into the bathroom.”

“Well,” Ray starts, bringing his hands to Walt’s lower back, pulling them closer. “I’m not the one who just cornered me against the fixings in here.”

“Fixings?” Walt is nuzzling along Ray’s jaw, hands tight on his biceps. “You really are small town Hickville.”

Walt’s not sure how much more of this he can take. They’re not really doing much, just talking and slowly touching each other, but it feels like Walt’s on fire.

“Watch it,” Ray says, grabbing a handful of the longer hair on the top of Walt’s head and bringing their faces even with one another. “It’s going to be your Hickville soon enough.”

Ray’s hand wrapped in his hair feels good. Way too good. Walt closes his eyes for a second, trying to keep at least a little bit of control over himself. But he when he opens his eyes again, all he can see are Ray’s deep brown eyes staring at him, his mouth hanging open slightly, and Walt’s gone. He can be respectable tomorrow.

“Pull harder,” Walt whispers before moving forward to force Ray up onto the sink.

Ray’s breath hitches in his throat when Walt settles between his legs. It makes Walt even harder to know that Ray is so affected by this.

“Fuck,” Ray gasps. “I knew you were a kinky fucker. You tried to hide it with your perfect hair, and sweet singing voice, but I knew.”

“You think my hair is perfect?” Walt asks, an innocent smiling twisting his lips as he moves his hands to the top part of Ray’s ass, pulling them together.

Ray actually blushes like he hadn’t meant to say that, or mean for Walt to hear him. Walt thinks it’s beautiful.

“Come here,” is all Walt says before finally kissing Ray.

It’s heated from the start.

Walt tilts his head, sliding his tongue into Ray’s mouth. It’s hot and wet, and Walt can’t help but give into Ray. Grunting, Ray flexes his hands before tightening one in Walt’s hair again, and one in the back his t-shirt.

He moans into Ray’s mouth in approval, changing the angle of the kiss. Walt feels Ray wrap his legs around his hips. The pressure against Walt’s erection makes his head spin. His hands fly up to Ray’s face, cupping either side and holding him where he wants him while they fuck each other’s mouths with their tongues.

Ray tastes sweet like bananas.

As Walt kisses him, gliding his hands from Ray’s face, to neck, to chest, to arms, to back, he can feel every inch of himself tensing and relaxing in unison with their slight movements against one another.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Walt,” Ray gasps, stopping to stare with this look on his face that Walt can’t comprehend. And then he is jumping off the sink, and Walt is letting himself be pushed back against the opposite wall. Ray is looking at him like he’s prey.

Walt almost comes right then.

But then he hits the wall and Ray is right there again, licking the line of his neck. Walt shudders, thrusting against Ray.

“Walt,” Ray whispers with his lips pressed to his ear. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. No. Fucking. Clue.” The last three words are punctuated by Ray pulling open Walt’s pants.

Walt hears himself laugh, quiet and deep, it doesn’t even sound like him. But then Ray drops to his knees taking Walt’s pants with him, and the gasp that comes from Walt when Ray closes his mouth around him is definitely his.

Ray feels so good, warm and wet, as he mouths along Walt’s dick, that Walt thinks that even if this wasn’t the first time in months someone had touched him, it would be the best blow job he’s ever had.

Walt can’t stop running his hands through Ray’s hair. It’s softer and thicker than he thought it’d be.

“Ray…Ray,” Walt repeats, getting his attention.

When Ray looks up at him, mouth puffy and shining, Walt has to force himself not to thrust back into Ray’s mouth. He slides one of his hands forward, running his thumb across Ray’s mouth as he drops to the floor, legs straddling Ray’s knees.

“Ray,” Walt says again, his mouth grazing Ray’s ear. “I want to see you come for me.”

And then Walt is pulling Ray’s shirt off, and tugging at his belt. Ray has his hands clamped on Walt’s arms, holding on, his brown eyes blown wide.

Walt continues to move forward, pushing Ray onto his back so that he’s kneeling over him.

“Listen to me,” Walt pants as he takes lines up himself and Ray so he can take both with one hand.

Ray is staring intently at Walt, bucking up into his fist. Walt gasps a little every time Ray’s dick slides past the crown. He leans down further so he’s practically laying on top of Ray, still thrusting against one another.

“When we get home I’m going to fuck you,” Walt says, his lips grazing Ray’s as he speaks. He increases the pace of his strokes. “The minute we can we’re getting a room with a giant bed and a hot shower, and I’m going to fuck you everywhere in between the two.”

He can hear Ray make keening noises as he continues.

“You won’t know what hit you, Ray. I’m going to lick, and suck, and fuck my way over your entire body.”

“Oh my god,” Ray grunts, turning his head sharply, and taking possession of Walt’s mouth. Their tongues glide together in a dance, teasing and playing. And then Walt pulls back, biting hard on Ray’s bottom lip. He feels Ray’s body tense and glances down to see Ray coming all over his stomach and Walt’s hand.

“Fuck, you‘re beautiful,” Walt breathes out before coming with a gasp.

Fifteen minutes later they’re dressed and have splashed cool water on their faces to try and get rid of their flushed cheeks.

As they walk back down the hallway Walt feels stronger, happier. Ray keeps glancing at him, a smile playing on his lips. Walt can still see the slight indent of where he bit down, causing Ray to come. He eyes the spot, licking his lips. Ray’s mouth opens a little, his breath catching.

“If you keep looking at me like that, homes, we’re never going to make it back outside.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Ray,” Walt says as he skirts his tongue out at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s shit like that! Don’t make me hurt you,” Ray yells before attempting to put Walt into a headlock.

“Don’t make me hurt either of you,” Brad says, walking in from the outside.

The both freeze. Walt is bent over with his face pressed to Ray’s chest because Ray has his arm around his neck holding him there. It’s an awkward position to stop in.

“Oh hey, Brad,” Ray says as calmly as ever, but not letting go of Walt. Walt wishes he would because he can smell himself all over Ray even through his shirt, and it’s turning him on.

“Ray… Let go of Walt and go get the humvee ready.” Brad doesn’t sound amused, but he looks more relaxed than he’s looked in weeks. “We’re leaving soon.”

When Ray lets go, Walt smiles at Brad as he walks by them. He hears Brad exhale in exasperation.

“Quit looking so goddamn suspicious, Hasser; and find Trombley.”

Walt and Ray shrug in unison and move out through the ruins, getting to work. Walt looks for Trombley for five minutes before Ray comes and tells him that Trombley is asleep in the back seat, his foot hanging out the window.

“Why are you just know telling me this?”

Ray just shrugs again. “Looked like you were having fun out there.”

Walt rolls his eyes, shoving him towards the humvee. “Plus,” Ray says quieter. “You looked like a fucking wet dream out there in the sunlight.”

“We’re Oscar Mike, Ray,” Brad yells to him as he climbs into his seat.

“Roger that, Sergeant,” Ray says, hurrying up. Walt jogs to his side, hopping in behind Brad.

Walt smiles as he stares out the window. They pass under the trees again and Walt knows that this is what he’s going to remember the most when they’re gone. Not the dead bodies, the dirt, or the pain, but this day. He glances up at Ray, who is still wearing those sunglasses that Walt hopes he never stops wearing even when they’re state side.

He leans his head against the back of his seat, closes his eyes and sings, “Country roads, take me home; to the place, I belong.”