[fic: in the closet, due South, kowalski/vecchio, rated T]
| in the closet || due South || kowalski/vecchio || rated teen |
In the Closet
Frannie and Welsh's wedding reception was in full swing when Ray and Kowalski snuck into the coat check closet, guiltily, like a couple of teenagers trying to find a place to go make out. Except for the part where they were two forty-something cops trying to find a place to escape the Vecchio clan, which was less fun but just as necessary for their sanity. Ray loved his family, but having them all in one room--with liquor--was daunting for anybody.
"I just don't get why your Aunt Rosa always does that," Kowalski said with a roll of his eyes, leaning back against a rack of coats. "I mean if she wants to talk to me, she could actually, y'know, talk to me."
Ray snorted. "She thinks talking to you is a sign she accepts our deviant lifestyle choices," he answered dryly, making appropriate air quotes. "She has to talk to me. We're related."
"But when she says, Raimundo, tell that boy that he needs to refill my wine glass, it makes me sound like your pool boy or something."
"What?" Ray asked, laughing. "My pool boy? Stop watching so much gay porn, Kowalski."
Kowalski scowled. "No. And that's not what I meant, i just...that boy? I'm forty-three years old."
"So? She's like, a hundred and eight. You're practically a toddler compared to her."
"Vecchio. Ew. That sounds like I need to arrest you for something."
Ray grinned at him, moved in a little closer. Kowalski was in a suit (one of only two he owned), his tie loosened and his jacket unbuttoned. He looked so hot, Ray was momentarily distracted because Jesus. He bitched up a storm about Kowalski's jeans and his t-shirts and his leather jacket, but Kowalski knew very well Ray thought he looked hot and only bitched because Ray bitched about everything. But the guy in a suit--Ray just couldn't help himself. He reached out, wrapped his fingers around Kowalski's tie, pulling him in closer. "Pool boy. Jesus Christ, you're so weird. Where do you even come up with this stuff?"
Kowalski smiled at him, bright and happy, that smile that made Ray just as stupid in his head as it had the very first time Kowalski had turned it on him.
If anyone asked him when he first fell for Kowalski (and people asked that a lot, either out of plain curiosity or sympathy), Ray had a pretty standard answer; when he found me that fan clutch for the Riv. Which was correct, kinda, but not exactly the whole story.
The truth was, Ray and Kowalski might not have seen much of each other when Kowalski got back from Canada and Ray had moved home after his marriage to Stella had ended (amicably, though divorces were never fun); Ray was back at the 2-7, and Kowalski had taken a job in Vice. But they'd both signed up to play on the Cops for Kids basketball team for charity and had a beer a few times after their games to reminisce over their Crazy Mountie Days. It was at one of those post-game beers that Vecchio had mentioned the Riv, and how he was having a bitch of a time finding a fan clutch and how he could actually drive the damn thing if he could just find this one last part.
And then there was Kowalski a week later at the 2-7, standing next to his desk, looking kind of nervous and holding something. "I found this," he'd said, shoving the box at him. "Just don't think it's right you should keep driving that Camry."
Ray had been confused--they were friendly enough, sure, for two guys who had the same ex-partner (not to mention ex-wife), but Ray wouldn't have said they were friends exactly--but he'd opened the box and hadn't been able to contain his enthusiasm for what lay inside. Ray had thanked him profusely, adding as an afterthought, "You want to come help me install it on Saturday? Seems right, you know, since you're the one who found it."
"Sure, yeah, okay," Kowalski had said, staring down at the floor, his hands in his pockets and scuffing his boot against the floor like a kid. Then he'd looked up and grinned that smile at Ray, and Ray--
For the rest of the day, whenever Ray looked at the box lying on his desk, he didn't think about how he was so close to being able to drive his baby again. Instead, he kept thinking about Kowalski; that maybe Ray had noticed Kowalski's ass looked good in his basketball shorts despite the fact Kowalski was a terrible player, that Kowalski had damn nice hands wrapped around a beer glass, that Kowalski did nice things to a shoulder holster. And Saturday started with installing the fan clutch, progressed to dinner, and ended with Kowalski sprawled naked and panting in Ray's bed, so...
Yeah, it was totally that grin.
The one Kowalski was giving him right now, saying, "I got an amazing brain, Vecchio. You ain't figured that out yet?"
"You got an amazing something," Ray said with a husky laugh, pulling him closer with his grip on Kowalski's tie. Fuck, Kowalski was always doing that to Ray, and okay, yeah, Ray could see the appeal. Too bad his boyfriend only wore suits to weddings, funerals, and court. The last two didn't usually get Kowalski ready to go, but weddings were happy occasions and involved liquor. So that was good.
"Heh." Kowalski's mouth opened under his, immediate and hot, and they kissed with increasing fervor until--
The door opened, and Ray started. He had Kowalski pushed back against the rack of coats, his hand in his tie, the other beneath Kowalski's suit jacket and resting low on his back. Turning his head towards their unwelcome intruder, he couldn't help the sudden horrified expression he was sure was on his face when he saw who'd interrupted them.
"Raimundo, tell that boy to hand me my coat," his Aunt Rosa demanded, holding a small coat-check ticket in her outstretched fingers.
Ray just made a squeaking sort of sound, immobile, watching as Kowalski ducked out of Ray's embrace and nimbly took the ticket, then found the correct coat. "Here you go, ma'am," he said with absolute charm, and--Ray couldn't help but notice--the family-friendly version of that same fucking grin as he handed the coat over with a flourish.
Aunt Rosa almost shocked Ray into a coma by patting Kowalski on his cheek and then saying, "Raimundo, tell him thank you," as she left them alone, closing the door behind her.
Ray looked at Kowalski, and they both burst into laughter. "That's progress, right there," Kowalski said, looking pleased.
"From pool boy to coat check boy? I don't know about that, Kowalski. Seems to me like you got demoted." Ray grinned and Kowalski grinned back, and for a second, Ray wondered exactly what he'd done in his life to end up with this twitchy, spiky-haired goofball who made his pet turtle talk to Ray when he was in bad mood and thought that spending their tax refund on a PlayStation was the best idea, ever.
Whatever he'd done, it was something really good.
"Oh, shut up, Vecchio. You just want me to wear a pair of those little shorts, don't lie." Kowalski said, widening his legs and pulling him closer, his happy grin turning into the slutty one that usually meant Ray was about to get laid. That was his other favorite smile of Kowalski's, no question.
At some point they were going to have to leave the closet and go back to the wedding reception, and the symbolism of that would make Ray laugh if he was capable of thinking of anything at the moment besides Kowalski's body, hot and hard against his own. And if Ray was sort of thinking of Kowalski in a pair of really tight shorts--well, hey, no one ever need know.
In the Closet
Frannie and Welsh's wedding reception was in full swing when Ray and Kowalski snuck into the coat check closet, guiltily, like a couple of teenagers trying to find a place to go make out. Except for the part where they were two forty-something cops trying to find a place to escape the Vecchio clan, which was less fun but just as necessary for their sanity. Ray loved his family, but having them all in one room--with liquor--was daunting for anybody.
"I just don't get why your Aunt Rosa always does that," Kowalski said with a roll of his eyes, leaning back against a rack of coats. "I mean if she wants to talk to me, she could actually, y'know, talk to me."
Ray snorted. "She thinks talking to you is a sign she accepts our deviant lifestyle choices," he answered dryly, making appropriate air quotes. "She has to talk to me. We're related."
"But when she says, Raimundo, tell that boy that he needs to refill my wine glass, it makes me sound like your pool boy or something."
"What?" Ray asked, laughing. "My pool boy? Stop watching so much gay porn, Kowalski."
Kowalski scowled. "No. And that's not what I meant, i just...that boy? I'm forty-three years old."
"So? She's like, a hundred and eight. You're practically a toddler compared to her."
"Vecchio. Ew. That sounds like I need to arrest you for something."
Ray grinned at him, moved in a little closer. Kowalski was in a suit (one of only two he owned), his tie loosened and his jacket unbuttoned. He looked so hot, Ray was momentarily distracted because Jesus. He bitched up a storm about Kowalski's jeans and his t-shirts and his leather jacket, but Kowalski knew very well Ray thought he looked hot and only bitched because Ray bitched about everything. But the guy in a suit--Ray just couldn't help himself. He reached out, wrapped his fingers around Kowalski's tie, pulling him in closer. "Pool boy. Jesus Christ, you're so weird. Where do you even come up with this stuff?"
Kowalski smiled at him, bright and happy, that smile that made Ray just as stupid in his head as it had the very first time Kowalski had turned it on him.
If anyone asked him when he first fell for Kowalski (and people asked that a lot, either out of plain curiosity or sympathy), Ray had a pretty standard answer; when he found me that fan clutch for the Riv. Which was correct, kinda, but not exactly the whole story.
The truth was, Ray and Kowalski might not have seen much of each other when Kowalski got back from Canada and Ray had moved home after his marriage to Stella had ended (amicably, though divorces were never fun); Ray was back at the 2-7, and Kowalski had taken a job in Vice. But they'd both signed up to play on the Cops for Kids basketball team for charity and had a beer a few times after their games to reminisce over their Crazy Mountie Days. It was at one of those post-game beers that Vecchio had mentioned the Riv, and how he was having a bitch of a time finding a fan clutch and how he could actually drive the damn thing if he could just find this one last part.
And then there was Kowalski a week later at the 2-7, standing next to his desk, looking kind of nervous and holding something. "I found this," he'd said, shoving the box at him. "Just don't think it's right you should keep driving that Camry."
Ray had been confused--they were friendly enough, sure, for two guys who had the same ex-partner (not to mention ex-wife), but Ray wouldn't have said they were friends exactly--but he'd opened the box and hadn't been able to contain his enthusiasm for what lay inside. Ray had thanked him profusely, adding as an afterthought, "You want to come help me install it on Saturday? Seems right, you know, since you're the one who found it."
"Sure, yeah, okay," Kowalski had said, staring down at the floor, his hands in his pockets and scuffing his boot against the floor like a kid. Then he'd looked up and grinned that smile at Ray, and Ray--
For the rest of the day, whenever Ray looked at the box lying on his desk, he didn't think about how he was so close to being able to drive his baby again. Instead, he kept thinking about Kowalski; that maybe Ray had noticed Kowalski's ass looked good in his basketball shorts despite the fact Kowalski was a terrible player, that Kowalski had damn nice hands wrapped around a beer glass, that Kowalski did nice things to a shoulder holster. And Saturday started with installing the fan clutch, progressed to dinner, and ended with Kowalski sprawled naked and panting in Ray's bed, so...
Yeah, it was totally that grin.
The one Kowalski was giving him right now, saying, "I got an amazing brain, Vecchio. You ain't figured that out yet?"
"You got an amazing something," Ray said with a husky laugh, pulling him closer with his grip on Kowalski's tie. Fuck, Kowalski was always doing that to Ray, and okay, yeah, Ray could see the appeal. Too bad his boyfriend only wore suits to weddings, funerals, and court. The last two didn't usually get Kowalski ready to go, but weddings were happy occasions and involved liquor. So that was good.
"Heh." Kowalski's mouth opened under his, immediate and hot, and they kissed with increasing fervor until--
The door opened, and Ray started. He had Kowalski pushed back against the rack of coats, his hand in his tie, the other beneath Kowalski's suit jacket and resting low on his back. Turning his head towards their unwelcome intruder, he couldn't help the sudden horrified expression he was sure was on his face when he saw who'd interrupted them.
"Raimundo, tell that boy to hand me my coat," his Aunt Rosa demanded, holding a small coat-check ticket in her outstretched fingers.
Ray just made a squeaking sort of sound, immobile, watching as Kowalski ducked out of Ray's embrace and nimbly took the ticket, then found the correct coat. "Here you go, ma'am," he said with absolute charm, and--Ray couldn't help but notice--the family-friendly version of that same fucking grin as he handed the coat over with a flourish.
Aunt Rosa almost shocked Ray into a coma by patting Kowalski on his cheek and then saying, "Raimundo, tell him thank you," as she left them alone, closing the door behind her.
Ray looked at Kowalski, and they both burst into laughter. "That's progress, right there," Kowalski said, looking pleased.
"From pool boy to coat check boy? I don't know about that, Kowalski. Seems to me like you got demoted." Ray grinned and Kowalski grinned back, and for a second, Ray wondered exactly what he'd done in his life to end up with this twitchy, spiky-haired goofball who made his pet turtle talk to Ray when he was in bad mood and thought that spending their tax refund on a PlayStation was the best idea, ever.
Whatever he'd done, it was something really good.
"Oh, shut up, Vecchio. You just want me to wear a pair of those little shorts, don't lie." Kowalski said, widening his legs and pulling him closer, his happy grin turning into the slutty one that usually meant Ray was about to get laid. That was his other favorite smile of Kowalski's, no question.
At some point they were going to have to leave the closet and go back to the wedding reception, and the symbolism of that would make Ray laugh if he was capable of thinking of anything at the moment besides Kowalski's body, hot and hard against his own. And if Ray was sort of thinking of Kowalski in a pair of really tight shorts--well, hey, no one ever need know.