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They fall asleep wrapped around each other, much like every other night. Pete’s head rests on Ray’s chest, his arms firmly secured around Ray’s middle, while Ray cradles Pete, smushing his cheeks with his pale biceps.
Ray moves a hand under the elastic waistband of Pete’s pajama pants and presses his palm flat to the smooth skin of his hip. Pete shifts a little, chasing the warmth with a content sigh.
“Pete,” Ray mumbles, lips against the other’s skin. “Let me up, I gotta piss.”
Pete just tightens his arms in response and burrows deeper into Ray’s hold. Ray kisses his forehead in response, smiles a little at how stubborn Pete is, even in sleeping.
“Come on then,” Ray says, and maneuvers both of them out of the bed and towards the bathroom.
Pete stays glued to Ray’s back throughout, his head resting on Ray’s broad shoulders and his arms encircling Ray’s sleep warm body. The move as one, a familiar act for the pair of them, through all the motions of Ray using the bathroom. Neither one speaks; the humming of the lights and noise of the toilet refilling itself after flushing cushion the silence well enough.
As Ray washes his hands, Pete lifts his chin onto Ray’s shoulder and meets his eyes in the mirror. He looks tired, they both do, but Ray doesn’t get the chance for the guilt to wash over him for the thousandth time before Pete’s pressing his mouth to the back of Ray’s neck. It’s not quite a kiss, more like a reassurance.
“Ray?” Pete’s voice mingles with the rushing faucet, rolling right over Ray like water.
“Yeah, Pete?” Ray’s voice gives out a little on his name, like he’s not sure he’ll ever be truly worthy of holding something so precious in his mouth.
Pete drags his lips to right beneath Ray’s ear, lets his teeth scrap the skin of his neck as he goes. A trail of goosebumps follow in their wake. There’s hardly any heat behind the gesture, just love. Just reverence.
“Love you.” Pete says it so simply, like if there are any great truths of the world, then Pete McVries loving Ray Garraty is one of them.
Ray feels the tears well up before he can think of trying to stop them. He shuts the water off and turns around, pressing himself flush with Pete. He presses their foreheads together, breathes in deep like the man in front of him is his source of oxygen.
“Love you more,” Ray replies. It’s just as simple but it gets caught in his throat. He lets out a shaky sigh and leans forward, stopping before he touches Pete’s lips with his own. Asking and waiting.
Pete pulls back and levels Ray with a sleepy sort of curiosity. A look that says, you know me; you know that you can kiss me anytime.
“Impossible,” Pete mumbles, reaching up to press his thumb at the corner of Ray’s eyes. He catches an unshed tear and wipes it away before connecting their mouths. They melt into each other, bodies still coming down from the turbulence that happened hours ago.
“Pete, I—" Ray tries once they break away. Pete shushes him with another kiss, sweet and slow.
“Baby,” he says, hands soothing over the short hairs on the nape of Ray’s neck. “Let’s go back to bed, hm?”
Ray searches Pete’s eyes for something, any kind of anger or hurt that he feared he would find, but sees nothing but patience. He nods once, a tiny thing, and lets Pete take him by the hand and pull him back into the bedroom.
They fall back into their bed and tangle themselves together, just like before. Ray pulls Pete flush to his chest and presses a cheek to his hair as Pete tucks himself closer to Ray. He settles himself with his ear to Ray’s heart.
Ray lies there, feels Pete’s breathing start to even out as the events of the day replay in his mind. His mom, his breakdown, Pete crying — no, Pete sobbing all on his account—
“Ray,” Pete’s voice tears him out of his thoughts. “We’re all good. Get some sleep for me, okay?”
Pete angles his head up just a little and gazes at him through his lashes. And God, Ray could have another meltdown at the sight of him all warm and sleep-soft, but instead he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of Pete’s nose.
“Okay,” Ray whispers. And then, after a moment, “love you.”
Pete kisses Ray’s pec, right where his heart pumps a steady rhythm. “Love you more.”
“Impossible.”
Pete huffs out a disbelieving but pleased laugh and snuggles further against Ray. His breathing evens out in a matter of minutes, but Ray’s eyes wander up to the ceiling and stay there. He can’t do anything but listen to the whistle of Pete’s breath and feel the warm puffs of air fanning against his chest.
Tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow we’ll talk about everything. The idea alone causes his stomach to churn uncomfortably and his palms to become slick with sweat. Ray tilts his head down, presses his nose to the crown of Pete’s hair, tries to ground himself in the tangible. In the reality of Pete being here, in his arms and in their bed.
He doesn’t sleep much.
----
Ray feels worse in the morning than he did before his fitful sleep. He wakes up to Pete peering down at him with some cloudy look on his face, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that he can’t quite solve. He reaches a hand down, drags a finger along Ray’s jaw. Ray’s head tilts to the side, leaning into the touch, trying to catch the finger with his lips, but before he can, Pete’s pulling back with a pinched little smile.
“Let’s go see your mama,” he says, and lifts himself off of the bed and into the bathroom.
Ray watches him go, sighing to himself.
(They’d visited his mom again last night, a good while after their tears had dried up and they could breathe as one again. Ginnie took one look at them and tried with all her might to stand up and bundle the pair up in her arms. Ray had to press a gentle hand to her shoulder and remind her to “rest, mom, we’ll talk when you’re better.”
Pete took her temperature again and was satisfied to see that it was as low as it was the last time he checked it. He nudged Ray, asked him if could make some tea while he spoke to Ginnie. It took everything in Ray to not let the panic show in his eyes, but he was pretty shit at poker.
“Of course,” Ray said. He felt Pete link their pinkies as he started to leave and it marginally lessened the knot in his stomach. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Ginnie smiled. “Of course, sweetheart. I love you.”
Ray managed a crooked smile. “I love you better.”)
“Ray.” Pete pokes his head out of the bathroom. “Get up, man. I wanna make breakfast when we get back, God-willin’ that it’ll still be mornin’ when you finally move your ass.”
Ray sticks his tongue out, but gets up nonetheless. He spots his ointment on Pete’s nightstand as he does and has to keep himself from tripping over nothing. He joins Pete in the bathroom and they stand side-by-side, bodies touching from shoulder to ankle, and get ready for the day ahead.
----
As they file outside and walk to their truck, Ray rushes ahead of Pete and swings the passenger side door open like a good little footman.
Pete stops in his tracks and stares at Ray with a cocked eyebrow. “Raymond Garraty.”
Ray blinks. Stares back. “Peter McVries.”
“I’m drivin’. Or have you suddenly developed an affinity for it?”
Ray blinks again, eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. Pete’s not wrong, Ray liked gazing out the window and letting his eyes wander over Pete’s arms and face and everything as he drove them around. And Pete loved driving, the freedom it afforded him. It’s a privilege he had never been granted before, not unless it was for a job, so yeah, he liked it. And Pete liked to watch Ray blush like a school girl when he reached behind Ray’s headrest and reversed into a parking spot.
They fit like that. In so many ways, they just clicked. Filled each other in.
“I wanna do this for you, Pete.” Ray’s still holding the door open. “Please?”
“Not happening’, baby.” Pete rounds the truck and opens to driver side door, talks to Ray over the seats. “You had a rough night. I felt you tossin’ and turnin’, so don’t tell me you got some sleep, ‘cause I know you didn’t.”
“You had a rough night, Pete, I—"
Pete throws a hand up and quiets Ray with a soft sigh. “Ray, c’mon now. It’s just up the road.”
Ray feels that trademark Garraty stubbornness flare up for a moment before relenting. “Fine.”
He climbs into the passenger seat in time with Pete hopping behind the wheel. Pete inserts the key into the ignition and shifts the truck into drive. As they pull onto the road, Ray’s arm inches towards Pete’s resting on the center console. He sees Pete glance down and furrow his brows before his hand is swooping Ray’s up. Ray sighs at the contact and then goes a bit red at how much the contact relieves some of the worry in his gut.
Ray pulls Pete’s hand towards his lips and presses it to his lips for a long moment. He wants to cry all of the sudden.
Pete tugs their joined hands back in his direction. Ray startles, immediately assumes that Pete’s trying to let go of him, let go of them, but instead Pete pulls their hands towards his own lips. He kisses the little spot of condensation that Ray left behind and takes his eyes off the road for a second to meet Ray’s. The look from the bathroom is back, the curious one, but now it’s tinged with a pale shade of melancholy.
Ray keeps his eyes on Pete even after he turns away and focuses back on the winding pavement. He can’t look away if he wanted to.
----
Ginnie’s making a pot of tea when they arrive. Both of them spring into action at the sight of her up and about.
“Mama,” Ray says, ushering her to the nearest seat. “What did we say about you getting up?”
Pete goes to the stove and takes over steeping, watching from afar as Ray frets over his mother.
“Ray,” Ginnie says, “honey, I’m fine. I feel much better thanks to the two of you.” A terrible sneeze punctuates the end of her sentence.
Ray looks at her with a renewed worry, pressing a palm to her forehead. Ginnie fondly sighs and lets him search for a fever that’s already passed.
“You feel alright,” he says, mostly to himself. “But I don’t think you should be making stuff. Let us handle it, okay?”
“Sweetheart,” she tries again. “You’re gonna worry yourself sick again, fussing over me. I’m fine.” Ginnie squeezes his hand and pulls him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. Ray relents, albeit hesitantly. He looks over to the kitchen and catches Pete looking at him with a pleased little grin. Ray reciprocates it.
Ginnie looks between the two of them, eyes bouncing back and forth, before clearing her throat.
“Pete, honey,” she says, waving him over, “I left something for you upstairs. Let me know if it’s your size.”
“Ma’am—"
“No ‘ma’am.’ You’ve been too kind dealing with my mess.” Ginnie reaches out, grabs onto to Pete’s arm with her free hand. “It’s been me and Ray for so long…we never thought our little family would be three again. But you’ve done so much for us, Pete, and I can’t thank you enough.”
Pete shuffles a little closer and pulls Ginnie into a tentative hug, like he’s giving her the chance to pull away if she wants to. She only tightens the embrace and lets out a warm laugh when Pete sniffles into her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Pete mumbles into the fabric of her sweater. “I can’t begin to tell you—
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to.” She rubs his back and looks up at Ray, looks at their still-joined hands. “I already know.”
Ray’s own eyes start to water at the sight. God, to think he almost lost this. To think Pete felt like he almost lost this. His stomach flips again.
“Alright,” Ginnie says, pulling back. She cups Pete’s face and brushes a stray tear away. “No more tears. Go and let me know what you think.”
Pete nods, lets out a wobbly 'thank you, Mama G,’ and makes his way to the stairs, knocking his hip into Ray’s as he goes. Ray knocks back, links their pinkies together before letting go and watching Pete ascend the stairs.
After Pete’s disappeared into Ray’s old room, Ginnie tugs on Ray’s hand and levels him with a look.
“What happened last night?”
Ray pulls back on instinct, but Ginnie keeps him in place. She motions for him to sit in the chair in front of her. He sits, pulls his hands into his lap like a scolded child.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know what’s going on with my boys. Pete said a little last night, but it’s blurry.” She fishes a tissue out of her pocket and blots at her nose.
Ray’s eyebrows jump in alarm. “Pete said something?”
Ginnie nods, her own eyebrows raising at Ray’s reaction.
“Oh.” Ray looks to the kitchen and spots two steaming mugs sitting next to the pot on the stove. He hopes Pete made a third one and drank it already, but he knows better. He knows Pete. “What’d he say?”
Ray gets up as Ginnie speaks, fetching the tea and keeping his face out of view.
“Well,” she starts, “when you two came by last night he was saying something about you and needing to be enough. He kept saying, ‘I got him, ma’am, I promise.’” She stops to sneeze and clear some mucus from her throat. “Sounded to me like he was convincing himself.”
Ray’s gripping the handles of the mugs so hard they leave deep indents in his palm. He can hardly hold them steady as he walks back to his seat, pointedly avoiding his mother’s eyes.
“Ray,” Ginnie says, taking a cup and setting it down. “You have a good thing, honey. And you two deserve some good after all you’ve been through.”
“I said some stuff,” Ray chokes out suddenly, unable to bear any kindness afforded to him. “Really, really bad stuff, and—"
“And you apologized?”
“Yeah, but—"
“And he accepted it?”
Ray shakes his head and looks miserably into his tea. “I didn’t deserve it, but yeah.”
“Then, Ray,” she pushes some hair out his face and soothes a freckled cheek. “You’re halfway there. The other half’s just showing up.”
Ray looks at her with misty eyes and feels the earnestness of her words. He often dreams about his parents; them dancing in the kitchen, them giggling on their busted old sofa like high schoolers. He dreams about their arguments and how quickly they’d reconcile with a kiss and soft words. He dreams about his mom’s broken sobs after his murder and how he’d hold her until she calmed down.
“Trust me,” Ginnie reassures softly. “Trust me.”
----
They left after an hour or so. Pete came back downstairs with a teary grin on his face and mostly-new shoes on his feet.
Ginnie smiled, said that she saw the boots on her way home a few weeks ago and thought of him.
“They were calling your name,” she said. “I had to get them.”
Pete wrapped her in another hug and showered her in thanks. Ray tapped the toes of their shoes together and shot him a lopsided smile. A little levity to make up for the last twenty-four hours, the last year, the entirety of Pete’s life.
“Alright,” Ginnie said. “Get going now. I got a date with my bed.”
Ray and Pete pressed two kisses to her forehead — one each — and headed back to the truck. As Pete cranked the key, he looked over to Ray and found Ray already gazing at him.
“Everything good?” Pete asked, snagging Ray’s hand and squeezing.
Ray held on just as hard and nodded. “Let’s go home.”
----
Breakfast ends up being Pete cooking eggs while Ray butters and flips toast. He almost burns his hand twice because he can’t tear his eyes from Pete and how content he seems in their little kitchen.
They sit down on the couch — a dusty blue loveseat that’s long been molded by their bodies — and eat in relative silence. Once or twice, Pete reaches over and swipes a little jelly off the corner of Ray’s mouth with his thumb before sucking it off like he’s been doing it for their whole lives. Ray goes bright red each time.
Ray finishes his plate before Pete. He pushes it to the side and reclines a little, watching and listening to Pete eat and make pleased noises every time he takes a bite of eggs. He finishes his plate too, before long, and falls back against the couch, angling his body so he can look at Ray head on.
“Ray,” Pete says, bringing a hand to thread through ginger strands. “You’ve been looking at me like I’m gonna disappear all mornin’.”
And Ray had been. Staring at Pete, getting lost in thought. Scared that if he stopped then Pete would vanish.
“Sorry,” Ray says, leaning into the touch while keeping his eyes trained on Pete. There’s a few crumbs stuck to his bottom lip. “I just like seeing you.”
Pete grins and knocks one of his knees against Ray’s. “You callin’ me pretty, Garraty?”
“The prettiest,” Ray replies with so much sincerity that Pete’s grin quirks down. It’s a quick thing, but Ray notices it all the same.
“Hm.” Pete tethers Ray to the spot with a look of his own, sucks his teeth softly and unwinds his fingers from Ray’s hair. “I’m not gonna leave, you know.”
Ray sits up a little straighter, fidgets like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.
“You’re it for me,” Pete murmurs, breath tinged with strawberry jam, “alright?”
Ray’s mouth goes dry at the way Pete’s looking at him. Patient, always, but scared too, like he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if the words don’t get through. Like last night, when Ray served his heart on a platter and Pete couldn’t quite believe that it was all his to tear into.
“Yeah, Pete,” Ray breaths, voice thick with emotion. “Same here. It’s just you.”
The corner of Pete’s lip ticks up in some attempt at a grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay.”
Ray leans forward, presses closer to the warmth of Pete’s body before hesitating. Pete blows out a short breath, mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath before climbing into Ray’s lap, straddling him, and forcing Ray’s eyes to meet his.
“Then what’s up? What is it, Ray? Because you keep stopping before you even start and I don’t know what else to say.”
God, Ray tries to lie, he really does try to say, ‘Pete, it’s nothing,’ but he can’t bring himself to. Not when Pete’s face is seconds from falling. Not when Pete’s hands are on either side of his jaw, rubbing unconscious circles into his skin.
Ray lets out a shuttering sigh. “I—" I don’t feel allowed to anymore, I don’t wanna fuck up so bad again that you flinch away from me, I don’t want to spoil your goodness with my bullshit. I wanna show up, but I don’t know how to do it right.
“I don’t wanna hurt you again,” Ray tries weakly.
Pete shakes head. “Bullshit.” His fingers dig into Ray’s neck, gentle and urgent. “Try again.”
Ray swallows, flounders for a second. “I don’t wanna overstep,” he says, then cringes at the look on Pete’s face.
“Overstep?” Pete’s reeling and Ray's hands splay so Pete doesn’t fall backwards. “Ray, you could never—"
“No, no,” Ray tries reversing course, fingers flexing against Pete’s spine. “I just…I didn’t wanna assume—or maybe assume’s not the right word—I didn’t think—you were so sad, Pete, and I—"
Pete’s looking at Ray like he’s grown three heads, like he’s gone honest to God, batshit crazy.
“You were hurting, Pete, so bad, and I didn’t wanna act like everything was fine.” Ray pauses for a moment before meekly adding, “And you deserve space from me if you want it.”
Pete looks away from Ray’s face, glares at the curtains behind the couch like they’ve wronged him in some way.
“Ray,” Pete says, still looking past him, “you a real idiot, you know that?”
Ray’s eyebrows fly to his hairline.
“I love you,” Pete says fiercely, dragging his gaze back to Ray’s face. “So much that I wanna crawl into your skin and live in your fuckin’ ribcage sometimes. Last night was last night, that doesn’t mean we’ve changed. That this,” he gestures between the two of them, “is any different than any other day.”
Ray blinks like expected something different. Maybe a punishment of some sorts, not this adamant and palpable love.
Pete’s fingers sweep over Ray’s pulse point, eyes pleading. “Okay?”
Ray nods. His face threatens to crumble, but he’s able to say the one thing that matters most: “Love you more.” It comes out all sorts of ragged, but Pete visibly relaxes and melts onto Ray’s lap, tucking his nose into Ray’s neck.
They stay like that for a moment, Ray clutching Pete to him and Pete safe in his arms, before Ray finds his voice again.
“I flew off the handle after you left,” Ray says, like he can’t keep it down. Like he wants Pete to do something, say something that’ll make everything even in his head. “I thought…”
Pete sighs and lifts his head. “Baby, you think I wasn’t outta sorts? I got five seconds up the road and had to pull over ‘cause I was shakin’ so hard.” He slides off of Ray’s lap and laughs, but it comes out strained and flat. “But I—I couldn’t…”
He trails off, picks up the fork that’s discarded on one of their plates. Ray stares, urging him on silently.
“Couldn’t what, Pete?”
Pete opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but instead shakes his head. “Forget it.”
Ray clamors toward him, grabs onto the front of Pete’s shirt with desperate hands. “Please?”
Pete places his hands over Ray’s and rubs his thumbs over pale knuckles. He looks at Ray for a moment, and then breathes deep. “Promise me you won’t be upset.”
“Never.” The reply flies out faster than Ray can process it. “Never, Pete. For the rest of my life, I swear.”
“Honey pie,” Pete says, reveling in the way Ray’s nose crinkles at the endearment. It’s one of the silly ones he liked to use when they’re both wound too tight. “You can be upset with me. I don’t want what happened to scare us away from bein’ honest with each other about how we’re feelin,’ okay?”
Ray nods, hesitant. “I get that but, Pete, I don’t wanna be upset with you. Ever. I was a dick yesterday and I felt like shit after ‘cause I made you feel like shit.”
“Baby, just—“ Pete brings a hand to Ray’s cheek. “Just hear me out for a second.” He takes a breath. “You were shaken up seein’ your mama like that, I get that. And you were in pain and I should’ve…”
Pete sighs, shuts his eyes, and rushes the rest out: “I overreacted. I shouldn’ta ran out like that and I’m sorry. I shouldn’ta said what I did. I didn’t want you to see me like how I was last night—you already have enough on your plate to be dealing with me and my baggage.”
He opens one eye, daring a peek at Ray who’s staring at him with a startling mix of fury and anguish.
“I don’t wanna burden you, baby,” Pete barrels on like that’s any better. “It’s been you and your mama for so long, Ray. She needs you and you sure as shit need her. And last night…last night I fell apart when you needed me. And I’m sorry about that.”
Ray drops his hands from Pete’s shirt and turns away for a moment. Pete stays where he is, frozen in place.
“Ray?”
Ray sighs—a trembling, choppy sound—and brings his hands to his face, drags his palms roughly over his eyes and cheeks like he’s trying to rub something off of his skin. He doesn’t meet Pete’s eyes when he speaks.
“I just need a second,” he says, staring at the ground, pointedly not at Pete.
“Oh.” That voice, the one that’s usually so solid and steady, wavers just slightly over the single syllable. “Okay, I’ll give you some space.”
Pete makes a move to stand, but one of Ray’s hands shoots out and latches onto Pete’s wrist, tethering him to the spot.
“I don’t want you to go,” Ray says, glancing up, eyes all red-rimmed and stubborn. He tightens his fingers around Pete’s warm skin, draws his eyebrows down in some attempt to plead.
“Okay,” Pete says, a little hesitant. “What do you want then?”
Ray laughs then, sharp and brittle. He drops Pete’s hand, brings his palms back up to his face and sighs a muffled, miserable sigh.
“I wanna stop being so useless, Pete.” He says it without looking at Pete, but he senses the rebuttal before it comes.
“Ray, no—"
“No, Pete,” Ray turns to face him full on again. “You’re so, so fuckin’ brilliant but then you say stupid shit like that and it’s because of me. You could never burden me.” He grabs Pete’s jaw, makes sure to look him right in the eye as he repeats the sentiment. “You hear me?”
Pete opens his mouth to say something, but Ray’s faster.
“And you told me not to get upset, and I’m trying not to, but Pete, you gave me life. I don’t just mean at the end, after you saved me, I mean you made me who I am now. You gave me something to live for during those five days and all I’ve done since is make your life harder since. Pete, man, you gave me a life I couldn’t’ve ever dreamed of, and I keep falling short. I just…”
Ray trails off, grabs at Pete’s trembling hands. “Like last year,” Ray tries, but his voice gives out midway through. Pete understands him still, if the way his face shutters shut is anything to go by. It was Ray’s chance to do the one thing that could repay Pete’s kindness, his big proclamation of love, but he failed at that too. “Last year, I was trying to show you how much you meant to me. I wanted you to win, Pete. You deserved that.”
Pete’s hands shake harder at the declaration. They’d been dancing around talking about what Ray had done since he did it. Lord knows neither of them thought that Ginnie Garraty’s seasonal sickness would be the catalyst for the conversation.
“But,” Ray continues, “I’ve been trying to be better for you. Really, really fuckin’ hard, Pete, and I fucked it up so bad last night. I’ll keep apologizing until we’re old and fuckin' senile, because I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just want to give you the life you deserve, Pete, that’s the least I can do. And I can’t do that if you feel like you can’t fall apart too, because, man, that’s all I fuckin’ do.”
Pete looks away from Ray’s watery eyes.
“Baby.” Pete’s voice comes out raspy, like he’s swallowing back tears of his own. “You’re perfect—"
Ray snorts and waves the statement away with his hand.
“No, Ray, listen,” Pete brings a hand to the Ray’s flushed cheek. “Baby, you’re perfect to me. I don’t blame you for lashing out, I couldn’t—"
“You should—"
“I can’t. Ray, I can’t, not after everything you’ve gone through. You deserve to feel everything you’re feeling and I…I’ve only ever known how to push it down. There’s so much wrong—too much—and I can’t expect you to sift through all of it and still see someone deserving. I can’t.”
Ray knows he’s gaping, but he can’t help it. He’s fucking astounded. “Oh, Pete...”
Pete’s tipping into him before Ray can wrap him up, but they fall into each other all the same. Pete sniffles, not quite allowing himself to cry.
“I’m trying too,” Pete says into Ray’s shoulder. “To be better for you. It’s just hard, Ray. It’s so hard all the time.”
“I know,” Ray says. He rubs gentle circles into Pete’s side, under his shirt. “But if I’m perfect, then you should be canonized.” A living saint, Saint Pete. Only the best for my man, Ray thinks.
“Oh, hush.” Pete lets out a wet laugh, but it dies as quickly as it starts. “Ray, you’ve given me more than I could ever ask for. I get to wake up next to you every day, and that’s more than enough. You’re not useless or falling short or any other bullshit like that, okay? So don’t be fuckin’ dumb. You’re my Ray. You’ve always been exactly what and who I need.”
He peels himself off of Ray to fix him with a ‘I’m not fucking around’ look. Ray leans forward and presses a kiss to Pete’s cheeks, left, then right, and then his lips.
“Pete,” Ray mumbles, breath mixing with in the space between the two, “burden me. Please burden me.”
Pete pulls back, his dilated pupils in sharp contrast to the frown on his lips. When he starts to shake his head, Ray stops him with another kiss, butterfly soft.
“It doesn’t have to start now, but promise. Promise me that you’ll let me in, because I wanna show you that you deserve it. You deserve everything, Pete. I wanna show you that you do. ” He brushes his thumb over Pete’s scar and feels that same shiver from before return. “Okay?
Pete swallows hard and nods. Ray offers him a shaky smile. Showing up, he hears his mother’s voice.
“Good,” Ray whispers, and nudges Pete’s nose with his own. Pete nudges back, pressing close enough to connect their lips again.
They sigh into it, both glad to finally, mercifully be done with it all.
“And by the way,” Pete says, breaking the kiss but staying near. “Impossible. You’ll never out-love me.”
Ray pauses for a minute, racking his brain before landing on his unanswered 'I love you more' from earlier. He laughs, bright and loud.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, McVries,” Ray says, dragging himself on top of Pete. He wiggles his fingers under Pete’s shirt and beams as Pete tries and fails to squirm away.
“Don’t try me, man,” Pete tries to get out, but he cuts himself off with a high-pitched squawk when Ray’s hands land on a particularly sensitive spot.
They stay like that for the rest of the day, giggling into each other’s mouths and glad to be one again.