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in
popoffacork
Time (Bob/Ray)
Title: Time
Recipient: templemarker
Author: jain
Pairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: G
Summary: The closet suited Bob.
One of the benefits of Gerard's particular brand of consciousness-raising was that nobody had ever really bugged Bob about his sexuality. There were the assholes who approached him sometimes to say things like, "My Chemical Romance? You're the guys who're all faggots, right?" to whom Bob always replied, truthfully, "No, we aren't. And your homophobia's the least cool thing I've seen today, so why don't you just fuck off?"
That particular brand of asshole had been ubiquitous in MCR's earlier years, but then gradually tapered away as time passed. Gerard saw this as a sign of spreading tolerance and was delighted by it. Bob didn't entirely disagree with him--he watched the news, after all, and it was impossible to deny that there was progress being made on that front--but he also maintained that a large part of that decline was due to the fact that it was a lot more fun harassing guys just out of their teens than men who were pushing forty.
In any case, Bob didn't concern himself over the homophobes; they'd draw their conclusions regardless of anything Bob said or didn't say about his sexuality. It was everyone else that Bob worried about, insofar as he did occasionally worry.
The closet suited Bob, in much the same way that playing percussion in a band that had Gerard as the frontman suited him. He thought that if he hadn't been internationally famous, he would've come out years ago, especially since most of his friends were all about the personal being political, and about the normalization of difference, and about presenting alternative role models for queer kids, whether their queerness was social or sexual or whatever. Sometimes, the urge to just take an interview with The Advocate and say, "You know what? I like the cock," was nearly overwhelming. But Bob had given enough of himself to people he had never met, and voluntarily giving up this particular secret and becoming a one-month wonder in the entertainment business (with the option of repeats every time the news cycle was slow) was way too far outside his comfort zone for him to contemplate it seriously.
No one in MCR had made a big deal out of it when he'd told them. Not that he'd expected them to have a problem with his sexuality--the very idea was absurd--but he hadn't been sure how they would take his long silence and the more than occasional half-truths and his disinclination to come out. The closest any of them had come to a criticism had been Frank, whose brain-to-mouth filter cut out long enough for him to say with laughing bitterness, "Thanks for letting me know that your refusal to elope with me is, in fact, all about me and not about my penis. I'm going to go cry in my--"
Mikey had cut him off with a hand across his mouth, and Gerard had taken over to say earnestly, "Of course, we feel just the same about you as we did before. Also, while we respect your decision to share this with anyone you want, you should know that we'll support you one hundred percent if you decide to come out publicly."
It had sounded like a rehearsed speech, which was very Gerard; Bob had wondered who Gerard had had in mind when he'd planned his remarks, whether he'd guessed about Bob already, or if this were something he'd been ready for ever since he'd gotten into the music scene.
Mikey had nodded his agreement with Gerard, and Ray had smiled at him and said simply, "It's cool. I'm glad you told us."
And they had backed those assurances up with their actions, which had the pleasant side-effect of never giving Bob a second's regret that he'd told them, no matter how carefully he continued to guard his privacy from everyone else.
Bob had never said anything to him about it, but he really liked sharing a sofa with Ray, the way the two of them pressed comfortably together, each of them just a little too big for their own cushions when they were loose-limbed and relaxed. The way that Ray's nicely muscled thigh rubbed against Bob's wasn't bad, either, though he really wasn't planning on mentioning that.
He also liked the fact that Ray was still around to share a sofa with, that they had that kind of friendship even after a decade and a half of work periodically shoving them into each others' hip-pockets. That did sound like something that Bob might share, albeit a very soppy and embarrassing something, so he grabbed another beer and the bottle opener. Maybe it was time for another slice of pizza, too.
"I'm thinking about coming out," Ray said, apropos of nothing.
Bob did a doubletake. If it had been Frank or Mikey or even Gerard, he'd be mopping spluttered beer off his coffee table right now, but Ray was too nice to time his shocking announcements to coincide with others' taking a drink. "You are?" he asked.
Ray nodded imperturbably. "I figure it's time."
Bob wondered if all that anti-drug propaganda might have actually had a basis in reality, because he'd never done anything harder than pot, but it seemed as though at some point he'd lost more brain cells than he'd realized. "But you're not gay," he said, a little cautiously.
"Not entirely," Ray agreed, and Bob felt reality return solidly to his grasp. "But I've slept with six guys in the past twenty years. That doesn't seem like an anomaly to me."
"Yeah, okay, but everyone does that."
Ray quirked an eyebrow at him, and Bob nodded to concede the point.
Still-- "Almost everyone in our circle of friends-slash-colleagues does that," he corrected himself.
"I know. And I wouldn't presume to tell any of them that they're queer just because they occasionally hook up with guys, or, you know, girls if they're women. But for me, that's what it is. I like guys, and I have sex with them sometimes, and I want to come out as bi. I couldn't come out while I was married, or, worse, right after the divorce, because I didn't want Krista getting hassled. But now it's been three years since we split up, and I think I'm ready."
"All right." Bob took a sip of beer to ease his suddenly dry throat, but he could handle this. "If this is what you want, you know you've got my full support."
"Thanks," Ray said, his voice sincere.
Bob wanted to ask what Ray's family thought, but that seemed as though it might be crossing a line, so he just said, "I'm guessing everyone else in the band said pretty much the same thing?"
Ray shrugged, looking less than perfectly self-assured for the first time that evening. "Actually, you were the first person I told."
Bob frowned slightly. "Why me?"
"Well, first of all, because you're the one this effects the most. Soon as I come out, everyone's sexuality goes under the microscope, you know that. I'll keep the heat off the rest of you as much as possible, but it still isn't going to be much fun, and a reporter could dig something up on you. So, I wanted to give you the chance to talk me out of it."
"Fair enough," Bob said. When Ray didn't say anything else, he added, "Uh, and second of all?"
"Second of all," Ray said slowly, "I kind of get the impression that you and I are working towards something more than friendship. Feel free to tell me I'm completely wrong about that, by the way. And if I'm not wrong, then my coming out becomes even more relevant to you."
It wasn't the first or even the hundredth time that Bob had been impressed by Ray's balls since he'd met him. Because, yeah, there had been friendliness of a noticeably different flavor than the usual between them lately, but that didn't mean that Bob was about to bust out anytime soon and ask if Ray liked him. Fortunately, he apparently had Ray to take on those moments of anxiety for him.
"Yeah, you're not wrong," he said.
Ray grinned at him, looking pretty relieved. There was a somewhat awkward moment while Bob tried to decide if they were supposed to kiss now, or what, but in the end he just reached over and took Ray's hand. Ray held on. "I can't promise that I'll be ready to come out anytime soon or, you know, ever," Bob continued. "But I think it's cool that you're doing it."
"Okay," Ray said. "Thanks." There was another pause, and then he said, "So, can we make out now?"
Bob laughed. "Yeah. That sounds fine to me," he said, and slid even closer on his small couch to follow through on his promise.
Recipient: templemarker
Author: jain
Pairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: G
Summary: The closet suited Bob.
One of the benefits of Gerard's particular brand of consciousness-raising was that nobody had ever really bugged Bob about his sexuality. There were the assholes who approached him sometimes to say things like, "My Chemical Romance? You're the guys who're all faggots, right?" to whom Bob always replied, truthfully, "No, we aren't. And your homophobia's the least cool thing I've seen today, so why don't you just fuck off?"
That particular brand of asshole had been ubiquitous in MCR's earlier years, but then gradually tapered away as time passed. Gerard saw this as a sign of spreading tolerance and was delighted by it. Bob didn't entirely disagree with him--he watched the news, after all, and it was impossible to deny that there was progress being made on that front--but he also maintained that a large part of that decline was due to the fact that it was a lot more fun harassing guys just out of their teens than men who were pushing forty.
In any case, Bob didn't concern himself over the homophobes; they'd draw their conclusions regardless of anything Bob said or didn't say about his sexuality. It was everyone else that Bob worried about, insofar as he did occasionally worry.
The closet suited Bob, in much the same way that playing percussion in a band that had Gerard as the frontman suited him. He thought that if he hadn't been internationally famous, he would've come out years ago, especially since most of his friends were all about the personal being political, and about the normalization of difference, and about presenting alternative role models for queer kids, whether their queerness was social or sexual or whatever. Sometimes, the urge to just take an interview with The Advocate and say, "You know what? I like the cock," was nearly overwhelming. But Bob had given enough of himself to people he had never met, and voluntarily giving up this particular secret and becoming a one-month wonder in the entertainment business (with the option of repeats every time the news cycle was slow) was way too far outside his comfort zone for him to contemplate it seriously.
No one in MCR had made a big deal out of it when he'd told them. Not that he'd expected them to have a problem with his sexuality--the very idea was absurd--but he hadn't been sure how they would take his long silence and the more than occasional half-truths and his disinclination to come out. The closest any of them had come to a criticism had been Frank, whose brain-to-mouth filter cut out long enough for him to say with laughing bitterness, "Thanks for letting me know that your refusal to elope with me is, in fact, all about me and not about my penis. I'm going to go cry in my--"
Mikey had cut him off with a hand across his mouth, and Gerard had taken over to say earnestly, "Of course, we feel just the same about you as we did before. Also, while we respect your decision to share this with anyone you want, you should know that we'll support you one hundred percent if you decide to come out publicly."
It had sounded like a rehearsed speech, which was very Gerard; Bob had wondered who Gerard had had in mind when he'd planned his remarks, whether he'd guessed about Bob already, or if this were something he'd been ready for ever since he'd gotten into the music scene.
Mikey had nodded his agreement with Gerard, and Ray had smiled at him and said simply, "It's cool. I'm glad you told us."
And they had backed those assurances up with their actions, which had the pleasant side-effect of never giving Bob a second's regret that he'd told them, no matter how carefully he continued to guard his privacy from everyone else.
Bob had never said anything to him about it, but he really liked sharing a sofa with Ray, the way the two of them pressed comfortably together, each of them just a little too big for their own cushions when they were loose-limbed and relaxed. The way that Ray's nicely muscled thigh rubbed against Bob's wasn't bad, either, though he really wasn't planning on mentioning that.
He also liked the fact that Ray was still around to share a sofa with, that they had that kind of friendship even after a decade and a half of work periodically shoving them into each others' hip-pockets. That did sound like something that Bob might share, albeit a very soppy and embarrassing something, so he grabbed another beer and the bottle opener. Maybe it was time for another slice of pizza, too.
"I'm thinking about coming out," Ray said, apropos of nothing.
Bob did a doubletake. If it had been Frank or Mikey or even Gerard, he'd be mopping spluttered beer off his coffee table right now, but Ray was too nice to time his shocking announcements to coincide with others' taking a drink. "You are?" he asked.
Ray nodded imperturbably. "I figure it's time."
Bob wondered if all that anti-drug propaganda might have actually had a basis in reality, because he'd never done anything harder than pot, but it seemed as though at some point he'd lost more brain cells than he'd realized. "But you're not gay," he said, a little cautiously.
"Not entirely," Ray agreed, and Bob felt reality return solidly to his grasp. "But I've slept with six guys in the past twenty years. That doesn't seem like an anomaly to me."
"Yeah, okay, but everyone does that."
Ray quirked an eyebrow at him, and Bob nodded to concede the point.
Still-- "Almost everyone in our circle of friends-slash-colleagues does that," he corrected himself.
"I know. And I wouldn't presume to tell any of them that they're queer just because they occasionally hook up with guys, or, you know, girls if they're women. But for me, that's what it is. I like guys, and I have sex with them sometimes, and I want to come out as bi. I couldn't come out while I was married, or, worse, right after the divorce, because I didn't want Krista getting hassled. But now it's been three years since we split up, and I think I'm ready."
"All right." Bob took a sip of beer to ease his suddenly dry throat, but he could handle this. "If this is what you want, you know you've got my full support."
"Thanks," Ray said, his voice sincere.
Bob wanted to ask what Ray's family thought, but that seemed as though it might be crossing a line, so he just said, "I'm guessing everyone else in the band said pretty much the same thing?"
Ray shrugged, looking less than perfectly self-assured for the first time that evening. "Actually, you were the first person I told."
Bob frowned slightly. "Why me?"
"Well, first of all, because you're the one this effects the most. Soon as I come out, everyone's sexuality goes under the microscope, you know that. I'll keep the heat off the rest of you as much as possible, but it still isn't going to be much fun, and a reporter could dig something up on you. So, I wanted to give you the chance to talk me out of it."
"Fair enough," Bob said. When Ray didn't say anything else, he added, "Uh, and second of all?"
"Second of all," Ray said slowly, "I kind of get the impression that you and I are working towards something more than friendship. Feel free to tell me I'm completely wrong about that, by the way. And if I'm not wrong, then my coming out becomes even more relevant to you."
It wasn't the first or even the hundredth time that Bob had been impressed by Ray's balls since he'd met him. Because, yeah, there had been friendliness of a noticeably different flavor than the usual between them lately, but that didn't mean that Bob was about to bust out anytime soon and ask if Ray liked him. Fortunately, he apparently had Ray to take on those moments of anxiety for him.
"Yeah, you're not wrong," he said.
Ray grinned at him, looking pretty relieved. There was a somewhat awkward moment while Bob tried to decide if they were supposed to kiss now, or what, but in the end he just reached over and took Ray's hand. Ray held on. "I can't promise that I'll be ready to come out anytime soon or, you know, ever," Bob continued. "But I think it's cool that you're doing it."
"Okay," Ray said. "Thanks." There was another pause, and then he said, "So, can we make out now?"
Bob laughed. "Yeah. That sounds fine to me," he said, and slid even closer on his small couch to follow through on his promise.