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yuletide Person of Awesome. I am going out of town for the holiday in like twenty minutes, so I won't get a chance to read my story until around New Year's but I wanted to thank you in advance, so you didn't think I was an ungrateful shit. I know you picked up my story as a pinch hit, which makes you doubly awesome, so really, THANK YOU. I'm sure I will love the story lots and lots.
This story is dedicated to my GK peeps. Happy belated DVD release. And to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparky77, Happy Santa's Dreidel Week
Generation Kill
Walt/Ray, various other pairings (lots of them)
Rated PG-13.
The Marine Corps Makes You Gay and Other Theories
Ray's got this theory.
Actually, Ray's got a lot of theories, but this theory is pretty fucking close to fact. In fact, Ray would say it is a fact.
"Rudy and Pappy are fucking," he tells Walt one afternoon when they've got downtime.
For a war of a pointless aggression and unwanted occupation, they have a lot of fucking downtime. Trombley may be a psycho, fuck-up, baby-killing retard, but he's right about that. Who the fuck sleeps during a war?
Walt's blue eyes go wide like Ray's said something scandalous. He looks around as though somebody might be listening, which is bullshit, because Ray's always talking and nobody's ever listening, so he knows that nobody's fucking listening to this particular bullshit.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Person?" Walt hisses. "You can't just say shit like that!"
Ray snorts. "You are so fucking innocent, Hasser. Open your fucking eyes."
"And see what?" Walt demands.
Ray rolls his eyes. "You think Rudy shaves Pappy's face for the Sergeant Major's sake? He does that shit so he doesn't get razor burn on his dick."
Walt's narrows his eyes. "Shut up, Person."
"What?" Ray protests. "I'm just saying."
"It's none of your business if they are," Walt retorts sharply.
"Of course it's none of my business," Ray says. "That's why I'm fucking talking about it!"
Walt gives Ray this incredulous look and then stomps off.
Huh. Maybe it was something Ray said.
That night, Ray digs his grave right next to Walt's. Walt eyes Ray cautiously, but since he doesn't vocally object or get up and piss in Ray's grave, Ray figures it's all good.
Ray watches Walt clean his weapon for a bit, and then Walt beds down and Ray goes back to the Humvee.
Ray's got the first watch, so he babbles to Rolling Stone about NASCAR and pussy and Brad's ex-Susie Rottencrotch for a bit. All perfectly acceptable topics of conversation in Ray's mind. He only stops babbling when Brad strolls up, eyes bright and sharp. Ray just smirks.
He knows that smile. The LT's gonna be moving a little slow tomorrow.
"Everything good?" Brad asks.
Ray shrugs. "All the kids are asleep. There are no monsters under the bed and no Bogeymen in the closet. There're a couple of retards wandering around, but I can't do anything about those. I thought about it, but Reporter's here and I can't have witnesses when I take out Encino Man's stupid ass."
Brad frowns as a matter of course. "Ray."
"I know, I know," Ray says dismissively. "No talking about the retards around Rolling Stone, but even Reporter's got eyes, Brad."
"As much as I'd like to humor you right now, Ray, I'd rather you shut the fuck up and take your 20."
Ray disconnects his comms. "I can do that," he says with a smile.
Brad narrows his eyes. "Why the fuck're you so happy? I told you to stop putting Ripped Fuel up your ass. It doesn't work any better in suppository form."
"You wound me with your suspicion, Brad. Really."
Brad's frown twists into an apprising look. "Ray, have you been snorting Sanka again?"
"No drugs in the last two hours. Promise."
Brad shakes his head. "Bed. Now."
"Yes, dear," Ray mocks, sliding out of the Hummer and walking over to his grave.
Walt is tucked in and sound asleep.
Ray drops down in his own grave, looks around and then leans across the space dividing him from Walt.
"Hasser."
No reply.
"Hasser," he says more urgently.
Walt makes a noise.
"Waaaaaaaaaalt," Ray persists.
Walt sighs loudly. "What, Ray?"
Ray takes another furtive look around and then leans in even further. From this close, he can see the stubble dotting Walt's jaw.
"Brad's doing the LT," he says covertly.
Walt's mouth drops open, but he recovers quickly. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, PERSON!" he howls.
Ray pouts. "What? Too much information?"
Walt shoves Ray out of his grave and turns away.
"Ray! Stop bothering Walt!" Brad orders from the Hummer.
Ray sulks in his own grave until he falls asleep.
Walt's gone when Ray wakes up a few hours later, which makes Ray kind of irritated. He gets up anyway, takes a piss and goes off to see what sort of fucktard Hail Mary bullshit command's thought up today.
Brad's face is looking a lot less "shiny, happy, I just came all over the LT's cocksucker mouth" now, and Reporter is snoring in the backseat. Trombley's ass is somewhere, probably fucking a wild dog or a camel or some shit.
Brad starts running down the day's bullshit the minute Ray gets in the Victor. It's numbers and directions and all kinds of shit that Ray's brain is just not processing at the moment without Ripped Fuel or coffee or a blowjob or something.
And then the LT's voice crackles down the line. "We are Oscar Mike in five mikes."
Ray sighs and sticks a big fucking wad of dip in his mouth. So much for fucking waking up.
Engines grumble to life around them, and the sun is just coming up on the horizon as Walt gets into the vehicle.
"Did you have a good shit, Hasser?" Brad asks conversationally as Walt gets himself situated.
"The best, Sergeant," Walt replies as Trombly comes racing up. "Just what my ass needed."
Ray chokes a little on his dip.
You can't avoid somebody when you spend thirty thousand million hours in a four by six sardine can, but you can get the sense that they are really fucking unhappy with you. Ray and Brad have that shit down pat. The fact that Walt's the one giving off this vibe today, just totally throws Ray off altogether. He can't seem to focus on the road, and the comms are even more Special Ed Fisher Price than normal.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Brad asks eventually.
"Nothing," Ray snaps.
"Then why the fuck are you sulking like a thirteen year-old girl who just found out her teen idol likes dick?"
Ray blinks at the dashboard and floors it. If he opens his mouth, it's all over.
A glance at Brad shows him watching Ray way too closely.
"Most teen idols are faggots," Trombley says thoughtfully.
"Your mom's a faggot, Trombley," Ray retorts.
"Shut the fuck up about my mom!" Trombley's voice goes high.
"Actually, most teen idols like dick and pussy," Rolling Stone interjects. "They'll fuck anything."
"Can we talk about something besides dick?" Trombley complains.
"Don't worry, Trombley," Ray says, "one day your balls'll drop, and you'll find out what all the fuss is about."
Someone makes a noise like they're laughing, but it's covered up by Walt rattling the Mark-19 around.
They've stopped for a few hours to allow command to unfuck itself and stick its dick up someone else's hole. Ray's wandering around camp, doing fuck all, not looking for anybody or anything, per se. Right.
He finds Walt's sitting in the sand and cleaning his weapon, which is pretty much all anybody does these days. Well, it's that or a combat jack, but Ray doesn't think Walt would be real happy about him whipping it out right now.
Walt eyes Ray warily as he approaches.
Ray holds up his hands. "I come in peace. Or some shit. I left the syphilitic blankets with Captain America." Ray pauses. "You think Poke'd schwack me for mocking his people?"
Walt's snort sounds a lot like a laugh, and Ray smiles. "You always have to be talking shit about someone, don't you, Person?"
Ray makes a noise of mock offense. "I don't talk shit, I just talk. Most of it just happens to be shit, but every now and then I say something important."
"Oh, really?"
"At least that's what my mom says."
"When'd she say that? When the only word you knew was 'NASCAR'?"
Ray pretends to be offended as he drops down next to Walt. Walt carries on with cleaning his SAW, and Ray just sits there, rocking back and forth, trying to think of things to say that aren't going to end with Walt smacking him in the head with the muzzle of his gun.
"I think Poke and Lilley would do it if Poke wasn't married and Lilley knew which end it went in."
Walt covers his eyes. "Ray. Stop."
"I was just trying to make conversation," Ray protests.
"Ray."
"I was."
Walt uncovers his eyes and gathers together the pieces of his SAW.
"What did I say?" Ray protests as Walt gets up.
Walt just shakes his head and walks off.
Ray's lower lip automatically pokes out.
He's not trying to be inappropriate; he's making conversation. He's being open-minded. What the fuck is wrong with Walt that he can't see that? Walt's a redneck, hillbilly who loves country music just like Ray. They're both Recon Marines. They're both not fucking other people. What's the fucking problem?
It's two whole days before Walt even talks to Ray again. And then a day later that thing happens with Walt and that guy in the car, and then Walt goes all Helen Keller, which makes Ray cranky, which makes Brad cranky, which is just a bad scene all around. The tension in the Humvee becomes so insane that Ray's pretty sure he's just going to snap and shoot up the fucker like Al Pacino in Scarface.
The thing about war is that it makes people kind of crazy. And desperate. And mouthy. So, really it's no change for Ray at all, but he doesn't even realize he's run out of Ripped Fuel until he goes looking and there's none left. And maybe, if they weren't in this fucking retarded three-legged race for oil, he might be okay, but they are, and Walt's still kinda mad at him even if he laughs at Ray's whiskey tango eating, and Ray can't figure out how to make it right. Plus, Brad and the LT have been having problems, which makes life hard for Brad and Ray, and Rudy's been unhappy without Pappy --
And then things go from bad to -- to nothing.
Suddenly the war's over, and it's all: thanks for playing, kids, and risking your lives for fuckall. Here's a soccer stadium to hang out in. Here's an abandoned building. Play some football. Work out. Sorry, there're no parting gifts for this fucking waste of time. Oh, and sorry about leaving you with blue balls for six weeks. No, we don't even have a spare sock for you to jack off in.
And even when Ray's losing his shit, even when he's yelling and crying and there's fucking snot running down his face, he knows it's happening and he knows why. He knows he would never lose his shit with Rudy if he was okay in the head. If he wasn't coming down and jonesing and tired and irritated and just -- it's enough.
It really is enough.
The grass is tall. If Ray leans back on his hands, it's like he's hidden. Like he's not in fucking backassward Iraqistan, sitting in some Haji field, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt.
If he keeps looks up at the sky and not across the field, he could be back in Missouri. He could be anybody. He could be a huge rock star, visiting home for a week, just hiding from the crowds and fans before they're back on tour and playing before thousands.
If Ray closes his eyes, he's not hiding, he's just sitting in an abandoned field, minding his own business and singing 'Cocaine Blues.'
He knows it's Walt next to him before he even opens his eyes, and when he finally does acknowledge Walt, it's just a glance before he goes back to singing about shooting his woman down and being tried by 12 honest men.
When Ray's done singing, he takes another look at Walt. Walt's licking his lips like he's preparing to say something. Ray's gotta shoot that down now.
"If you ask me how I am, I'm going fucking suffocate you in this Haji grass," Ray says, preempting who knows what.
Walt's smile is wide and brilliant. "You think I give a shit how you are?"
Ray shrugs. "Fucked if I know."
Walt throws some grass at him. "You are the biggest fucking retard ever," he says affectionately.
"Takes one to know one," Ray retorts mildly.
Walt rubs his forehead. "Are you still a virgin?"
Ray is aghast. "Do you know how much pussy I've had?"
"Considering how bad you are at gettin' some, I'm thinking none."
Ray's mouth drops open. "I am the motherfucking king of getting tail!"
Walt laughs uproariously. "In your dreams, maybe."
Ray scowls and smacks Walt on the arm. "Asshole. Why, you got some pussy on offer?"
Walt grabs the band of his pants and pulls them out to have a look. "Uh, fuck no."
"Never mind then," Ray says dismissively.
They sit in silence for several seconds before Walt speaks again. "Did I mention you're really bad at that shit?"
"What shit?"
"That shit where you try to tell me you like me, but you bring up everybody else instead."
Ray opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Walt raises an eyebrow. "Don't even deny it."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever fucking heard," Ray sputters.
He's still sputtering when Walt leans over and kisses him.
It's -- it's -- it's just what Ray needs. It's hard and wet, and Walt bites at Ray's lower lip, demanding entrance to his mouth and Ray gives it to him. He lets Walt suck on his tongue and nip at his mouth and guide Ray's head until Ray's this close to pushing Walt in the grass, climbing the fuck on him, whipping out his dick and coming all over Walt's clothes.
He doesn’t even realize he's halfway there until Walt's hand on his chest stops him.
"Don't start something you can't finish," Walt says, pushing him away.
Walt's mouth is swollen and wet and red. Ray really wants to put his cock in there.
"I can finish it," Rays says, "believe me."
"And how are you going to explain defiling me when Brad comes looking for you? That was a serious tantrum you had back there."
"I didn't have a tantrum." Ray sits back and scowls. "And fuck Brad."
"I actually thought he was fucking you until you told me about he and the LT."
Ray doesn't even have to pretend to be offended. "Me and that brainiac, Hebrew Viking, Esquire-reading, White Power-looking motherfucker? Seriously? Totally not my type."
Walt shrugs. "You act married."
"No, we act divorced," Ray corrects. "We just get along to keep the children happy. Besides, Brad is most definitely fucking the LT. And he's most definitely happy about it."
Walt's mouth twists at the corner. "So, you wouldn't be cheating with me?"
Ray pretends to think this over. "Do you want me to be cheating with you? 'Cause, you know, I could cheat on you with you?"
Walt rolls his eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Person."
"I'm saying, if I'm going gay for you, I'm trying to do it the right way."
"You're going gay for me?" Walt actually seems a little surprised. "I thought this was just a Recon thing."
"Oh, it is. The Marine Corps'll make you gay. But, you know, if I fucked your tight little ass I could probably stay gay for a while longer."
"Dream on, motherfucker," Walt laughs as he gets up.
Ray scrambles after him.
"Rimming?" Ray offers.
Walt keeps laughing.
"A blow job?" he tries.
By now, Walt's wheezing. He stops and turns back to Ray.
"I think you should start with the begging," he says thoughtfully. "The begging works."
Ray blinks. "You want me on my knees, begging?"
Walt's grin returns.
"Goddamn, you are a kinky fucker," Ray says approvingly.
Walt glances around and leans in very close. "Are you going to talk this much when I have my tongue up your ass?"
Ray's still gaping long after Walt's wandered back towards camp.
He has this new theory though: they should amend the Recon motto to, "Swift, Silent, Deadly and totally willing to take it up the ass."
-end-
This is for everyone, but especially forsparky77. Happy Hanukkah, sweetie. And the same to everyone else: HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND HANUKKAH!
yuletide Person of Awesome. I am going out of town for the holiday in like twenty minutes, so I won't get a chance to read my story until around New Year's but I wanted to thank you in advance, so you didn't think I was an ungrateful shit. I know you picked up my story as a pinch hit, which makes you doubly awesome, so really, THANK YOU. I'm sure I will love the story lots and lots.This story is dedicated to my GK peeps. Happy belated DVD release. And to
sparky77, Happy Santa's Dreidel WeekGeneration Kill
Walt/Ray, various other pairings (lots of them)
Rated PG-13.
Ray's got this theory.
Actually, Ray's got a lot of theories, but this theory is pretty fucking close to fact. In fact, Ray would say it is a fact.
"Rudy and Pappy are fucking," he tells Walt one afternoon when they've got downtime.
For a war of a pointless aggression and unwanted occupation, they have a lot of fucking downtime. Trombley may be a psycho, fuck-up, baby-killing retard, but he's right about that. Who the fuck sleeps during a war?
Walt's blue eyes go wide like Ray's said something scandalous. He looks around as though somebody might be listening, which is bullshit, because Ray's always talking and nobody's ever listening, so he knows that nobody's fucking listening to this particular bullshit.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Person?" Walt hisses. "You can't just say shit like that!"
Ray snorts. "You are so fucking innocent, Hasser. Open your fucking eyes."
"And see what?" Walt demands.
Ray rolls his eyes. "You think Rudy shaves Pappy's face for the Sergeant Major's sake? He does that shit so he doesn't get razor burn on his dick."
Walt's narrows his eyes. "Shut up, Person."
"What?" Ray protests. "I'm just saying."
"It's none of your business if they are," Walt retorts sharply.
"Of course it's none of my business," Ray says. "That's why I'm fucking talking about it!"
Walt gives Ray this incredulous look and then stomps off.
Huh. Maybe it was something Ray said.
That night, Ray digs his grave right next to Walt's. Walt eyes Ray cautiously, but since he doesn't vocally object or get up and piss in Ray's grave, Ray figures it's all good.
Ray watches Walt clean his weapon for a bit, and then Walt beds down and Ray goes back to the Humvee.
Ray's got the first watch, so he babbles to Rolling Stone about NASCAR and pussy and Brad's ex-Susie Rottencrotch for a bit. All perfectly acceptable topics of conversation in Ray's mind. He only stops babbling when Brad strolls up, eyes bright and sharp. Ray just smirks.
He knows that smile. The LT's gonna be moving a little slow tomorrow.
"Everything good?" Brad asks.
Ray shrugs. "All the kids are asleep. There are no monsters under the bed and no Bogeymen in the closet. There're a couple of retards wandering around, but I can't do anything about those. I thought about it, but Reporter's here and I can't have witnesses when I take out Encino Man's stupid ass."
Brad frowns as a matter of course. "Ray."
"I know, I know," Ray says dismissively. "No talking about the retards around Rolling Stone, but even Reporter's got eyes, Brad."
"As much as I'd like to humor you right now, Ray, I'd rather you shut the fuck up and take your 20."
Ray disconnects his comms. "I can do that," he says with a smile.
Brad narrows his eyes. "Why the fuck're you so happy? I told you to stop putting Ripped Fuel up your ass. It doesn't work any better in suppository form."
"You wound me with your suspicion, Brad. Really."
Brad's frown twists into an apprising look. "Ray, have you been snorting Sanka again?"
"No drugs in the last two hours. Promise."
Brad shakes his head. "Bed. Now."
"Yes, dear," Ray mocks, sliding out of the Hummer and walking over to his grave.
Walt is tucked in and sound asleep.
Ray drops down in his own grave, looks around and then leans across the space dividing him from Walt.
"Hasser."
No reply.
"Hasser," he says more urgently.
Walt makes a noise.
"Waaaaaaaaaalt," Ray persists.
Walt sighs loudly. "What, Ray?"
Ray takes another furtive look around and then leans in even further. From this close, he can see the stubble dotting Walt's jaw.
"Brad's doing the LT," he says covertly.
Walt's mouth drops open, but he recovers quickly. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, PERSON!" he howls.
Ray pouts. "What? Too much information?"
Walt shoves Ray out of his grave and turns away.
"Ray! Stop bothering Walt!" Brad orders from the Hummer.
Ray sulks in his own grave until he falls asleep.
Walt's gone when Ray wakes up a few hours later, which makes Ray kind of irritated. He gets up anyway, takes a piss and goes off to see what sort of fucktard Hail Mary bullshit command's thought up today.
Brad's face is looking a lot less "shiny, happy, I just came all over the LT's cocksucker mouth" now, and Reporter is snoring in the backseat. Trombley's ass is somewhere, probably fucking a wild dog or a camel or some shit.
Brad starts running down the day's bullshit the minute Ray gets in the Victor. It's numbers and directions and all kinds of shit that Ray's brain is just not processing at the moment without Ripped Fuel or coffee or a blowjob or something.
And then the LT's voice crackles down the line. "We are Oscar Mike in five mikes."
Ray sighs and sticks a big fucking wad of dip in his mouth. So much for fucking waking up.
Engines grumble to life around them, and the sun is just coming up on the horizon as Walt gets into the vehicle.
"Did you have a good shit, Hasser?" Brad asks conversationally as Walt gets himself situated.
"The best, Sergeant," Walt replies as Trombly comes racing up. "Just what my ass needed."
Ray chokes a little on his dip.
You can't avoid somebody when you spend thirty thousand million hours in a four by six sardine can, but you can get the sense that they are really fucking unhappy with you. Ray and Brad have that shit down pat. The fact that Walt's the one giving off this vibe today, just totally throws Ray off altogether. He can't seem to focus on the road, and the comms are even more Special Ed Fisher Price than normal.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Brad asks eventually.
"Nothing," Ray snaps.
"Then why the fuck are you sulking like a thirteen year-old girl who just found out her teen idol likes dick?"
Ray blinks at the dashboard and floors it. If he opens his mouth, it's all over.
A glance at Brad shows him watching Ray way too closely.
"Most teen idols are faggots," Trombley says thoughtfully.
"Your mom's a faggot, Trombley," Ray retorts.
"Shut the fuck up about my mom!" Trombley's voice goes high.
"Actually, most teen idols like dick and pussy," Rolling Stone interjects. "They'll fuck anything."
"Can we talk about something besides dick?" Trombley complains.
"Don't worry, Trombley," Ray says, "one day your balls'll drop, and you'll find out what all the fuss is about."
Someone makes a noise like they're laughing, but it's covered up by Walt rattling the Mark-19 around.
They've stopped for a few hours to allow command to unfuck itself and stick its dick up someone else's hole. Ray's wandering around camp, doing fuck all, not looking for anybody or anything, per se. Right.
He finds Walt's sitting in the sand and cleaning his weapon, which is pretty much all anybody does these days. Well, it's that or a combat jack, but Ray doesn't think Walt would be real happy about him whipping it out right now.
Walt eyes Ray warily as he approaches.
Ray holds up his hands. "I come in peace. Or some shit. I left the syphilitic blankets with Captain America." Ray pauses. "You think Poke'd schwack me for mocking his people?"
Walt's snort sounds a lot like a laugh, and Ray smiles. "You always have to be talking shit about someone, don't you, Person?"
Ray makes a noise of mock offense. "I don't talk shit, I just talk. Most of it just happens to be shit, but every now and then I say something important."
"Oh, really?"
"At least that's what my mom says."
"When'd she say that? When the only word you knew was 'NASCAR'?"
Ray pretends to be offended as he drops down next to Walt. Walt carries on with cleaning his SAW, and Ray just sits there, rocking back and forth, trying to think of things to say that aren't going to end with Walt smacking him in the head with the muzzle of his gun.
"I think Poke and Lilley would do it if Poke wasn't married and Lilley knew which end it went in."
Walt covers his eyes. "Ray. Stop."
"I was just trying to make conversation," Ray protests.
"Ray."
"I was."
Walt uncovers his eyes and gathers together the pieces of his SAW.
"What did I say?" Ray protests as Walt gets up.
Walt just shakes his head and walks off.
Ray's lower lip automatically pokes out.
He's not trying to be inappropriate; he's making conversation. He's being open-minded. What the fuck is wrong with Walt that he can't see that? Walt's a redneck, hillbilly who loves country music just like Ray. They're both Recon Marines. They're both not fucking other people. What's the fucking problem?
It's two whole days before Walt even talks to Ray again. And then a day later that thing happens with Walt and that guy in the car, and then Walt goes all Helen Keller, which makes Ray cranky, which makes Brad cranky, which is just a bad scene all around. The tension in the Humvee becomes so insane that Ray's pretty sure he's just going to snap and shoot up the fucker like Al Pacino in Scarface.
The thing about war is that it makes people kind of crazy. And desperate. And mouthy. So, really it's no change for Ray at all, but he doesn't even realize he's run out of Ripped Fuel until he goes looking and there's none left. And maybe, if they weren't in this fucking retarded three-legged race for oil, he might be okay, but they are, and Walt's still kinda mad at him even if he laughs at Ray's whiskey tango eating, and Ray can't figure out how to make it right. Plus, Brad and the LT have been having problems, which makes life hard for Brad and Ray, and Rudy's been unhappy without Pappy --
And then things go from bad to -- to nothing.
Suddenly the war's over, and it's all: thanks for playing, kids, and risking your lives for fuckall. Here's a soccer stadium to hang out in. Here's an abandoned building. Play some football. Work out. Sorry, there're no parting gifts for this fucking waste of time. Oh, and sorry about leaving you with blue balls for six weeks. No, we don't even have a spare sock for you to jack off in.
And even when Ray's losing his shit, even when he's yelling and crying and there's fucking snot running down his face, he knows it's happening and he knows why. He knows he would never lose his shit with Rudy if he was okay in the head. If he wasn't coming down and jonesing and tired and irritated and just -- it's enough.
It really is enough.
The grass is tall. If Ray leans back on his hands, it's like he's hidden. Like he's not in fucking backassward Iraqistan, sitting in some Haji field, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt.
If he keeps looks up at the sky and not across the field, he could be back in Missouri. He could be anybody. He could be a huge rock star, visiting home for a week, just hiding from the crowds and fans before they're back on tour and playing before thousands.
If Ray closes his eyes, he's not hiding, he's just sitting in an abandoned field, minding his own business and singing 'Cocaine Blues.'
He knows it's Walt next to him before he even opens his eyes, and when he finally does acknowledge Walt, it's just a glance before he goes back to singing about shooting his woman down and being tried by 12 honest men.
When Ray's done singing, he takes another look at Walt. Walt's licking his lips like he's preparing to say something. Ray's gotta shoot that down now.
"If you ask me how I am, I'm going fucking suffocate you in this Haji grass," Ray says, preempting who knows what.
Walt's smile is wide and brilliant. "You think I give a shit how you are?"
Ray shrugs. "Fucked if I know."
Walt throws some grass at him. "You are the biggest fucking retard ever," he says affectionately.
"Takes one to know one," Ray retorts mildly.
Walt rubs his forehead. "Are you still a virgin?"
Ray is aghast. "Do you know how much pussy I've had?"
"Considering how bad you are at gettin' some, I'm thinking none."
Ray's mouth drops open. "I am the motherfucking king of getting tail!"
Walt laughs uproariously. "In your dreams, maybe."
Ray scowls and smacks Walt on the arm. "Asshole. Why, you got some pussy on offer?"
Walt grabs the band of his pants and pulls them out to have a look. "Uh, fuck no."
"Never mind then," Ray says dismissively.
They sit in silence for several seconds before Walt speaks again. "Did I mention you're really bad at that shit?"
"What shit?"
"That shit where you try to tell me you like me, but you bring up everybody else instead."
Ray opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Walt raises an eyebrow. "Don't even deny it."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever fucking heard," Ray sputters.
He's still sputtering when Walt leans over and kisses him.
It's -- it's -- it's just what Ray needs. It's hard and wet, and Walt bites at Ray's lower lip, demanding entrance to his mouth and Ray gives it to him. He lets Walt suck on his tongue and nip at his mouth and guide Ray's head until Ray's this close to pushing Walt in the grass, climbing the fuck on him, whipping out his dick and coming all over Walt's clothes.
He doesn’t even realize he's halfway there until Walt's hand on his chest stops him.
"Don't start something you can't finish," Walt says, pushing him away.
Walt's mouth is swollen and wet and red. Ray really wants to put his cock in there.
"I can finish it," Rays says, "believe me."
"And how are you going to explain defiling me when Brad comes looking for you? That was a serious tantrum you had back there."
"I didn't have a tantrum." Ray sits back and scowls. "And fuck Brad."
"I actually thought he was fucking you until you told me about he and the LT."
Ray doesn't even have to pretend to be offended. "Me and that brainiac, Hebrew Viking, Esquire-reading, White Power-looking motherfucker? Seriously? Totally not my type."
Walt shrugs. "You act married."
"No, we act divorced," Ray corrects. "We just get along to keep the children happy. Besides, Brad is most definitely fucking the LT. And he's most definitely happy about it."
Walt's mouth twists at the corner. "So, you wouldn't be cheating with me?"
Ray pretends to think this over. "Do you want me to be cheating with you? 'Cause, you know, I could cheat on you with you?"
Walt rolls his eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Person."
"I'm saying, if I'm going gay for you, I'm trying to do it the right way."
"You're going gay for me?" Walt actually seems a little surprised. "I thought this was just a Recon thing."
"Oh, it is. The Marine Corps'll make you gay. But, you know, if I fucked your tight little ass I could probably stay gay for a while longer."
"Dream on, motherfucker," Walt laughs as he gets up.
Ray scrambles after him.
"Rimming?" Ray offers.
Walt keeps laughing.
"A blow job?" he tries.
By now, Walt's wheezing. He stops and turns back to Ray.
"I think you should start with the begging," he says thoughtfully. "The begging works."
Ray blinks. "You want me on my knees, begging?"
Walt's grin returns.
"Goddamn, you are a kinky fucker," Ray says approvingly.
Walt glances around and leans in very close. "Are you going to talk this much when I have my tongue up your ass?"
Ray's still gaping long after Walt's wandered back towards camp.
He has this new theory though: they should amend the Recon motto to, "Swift, Silent, Deadly and totally willing to take it up the ass."
-end-
This is for everyone, but especially for
sparky77. Happy Hanukkah, sweetie. And the same to everyone else: HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND HANUKKAH!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2008-12-22 03:49 pm (UTC)YES. I laughed a lot while reading this (and hopefully didn't wake up anyone :P). Ray is so oblivious, ha.
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 04:34 pm (UTC)And once again you've got everyone's voices 100% perfect. I basically wet myself laughing reading this, A+ job. I was going to try to pick a favourite line, but...yeah. Too many. I particularly love each time that Ray 'reveals' a different pairing in the platoon to Walt, ahahaha
Please never stop writing GK fic ♥
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:12 pm (UTC)I will totally drink to that idea. I am so pleased you liked this, thank you!
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Date: 2008-12-22 04:54 pm (UTC)Wait, that wasn't the motto before?
This story was hilarious and brilliant and Ray and I love it to pieces.
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 05:02 pm (UTC)"No, we act divorced," Ray corrects.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 05:56 pm (UTC)Thanks and happy holidays to you too!
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 06:02 pm (UTC)Happy Holidays!
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 07:23 pm (UTC)"Actually, most teen idols like dick and pussy," Rolling Stone interjects. "They'll fuck anything."
ROFL I loved that part so much. It just made it more, you know, real or something. :D It just totally fit right in.
I love how you wrote Ray coming down from the Ripped Fuel and the war and breaking down. GOSH I LOVE HIM SO HARD.
In conclusion, thank you for writing this so I could read it. YOU = WIN. ♥
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 11:26 pm (UTC)I love Ray and Walt and their totally dysfunctional puppy love so much. This made me so very, very happy. I can't stop smiling!
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:38 pm (UTC)I can just see Ray wandering into Ari's office and just not shutting up and giving Ari all his theories on life, the universe, and hollywood, and Ari not being sure if he wants to have Ray killed or sign him.
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Date: 2008-12-23 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 01:58 am (UTC)Thanks for writing this! (And for all of your lovely Brad/Nate porn, which I'm making my way through right now. SWEET JESUS.)
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:16 pm (UTC)Don't worry, it's that way for *everyone*. It takes until like episode 4 or 5 to figure out who anybody is that isn't Brad, Nate or Ray. Or Rudy. Multiple viewings will help with this matter. At this point I've seen each episode at least 3 or 4 times and I'm still finding new things. Oh, GK, whyfor so awesome?
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Date: 2008-12-31 11:31 pm (UTC)And now that I've finally seen all the Walt/Ray interactions in parts 5 and 6, including Ray humping Walt's neck (OMG)? This story is that much sweeter. :)
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Date: 2008-12-23 02:55 am (UTC)I just want to smoosh his face. He's adorable.
&can I just say, Rudy/Pappy love!
YES!
You're awesome. Please never stop writing ♥
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 07:39 pm (UTC)P.S. - BURN NOTICE IN LESS THAN A MONTH!
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Date: 2008-12-31 07:18 pm (UTC)And lo, my pimping was not in vain. THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT ;)
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Date: 2008-12-24 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 08:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-07 05:16 pm (UTC)This is... this is... it's GENIUS.
I admit nothing, but it reminds me a little of a friend of mine trying gauge whether I'd like to toke up with her by talking about having gone to a party and having been under *so much* pressure to smoke, already.
Oh, Ray. Not only is he a midget, he's really stuck in grade-school flirting - if Walt had pigtails, he'd be pulling those fuckers straight into Baghdad.
They're the most perverted grade school kids ever, and it's AWESOME. *SMUSHES THEM*
... I didn't get much sleep last night.
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Date: 2009-06-08 11:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-20 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-04 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-12 11:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-12 01:35 pm (UTC)Best ending line ever!
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Date: 2011-08-03 01:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-23 06:25 pm (UTC)And, dear author, one of my friends is totally mad about this pairing and has a birthday soon. Would you mind if I translate this as a present? It would be just a dream come true.
Thank you in advance - and my apologies if you refuse. But the hope never dies)
BR,
Maria
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Date: 2012-05-17 12:52 am (UTC)The perfection of this knows no bounds, so totally Ray! Love Ray?Walt and the added comments about Brad/Nate. :D