Author's Notes: Beta'd quickly and kindly by the much-beloved Nos4a2no9.

Story Notes: Written in October 2008 for stop_drop_porn with the prompt of hayride--a fun suggestion from Kristiinthedark. The pairing is especially for Sionnain.

Ray's in a good mood for the first few minutes after work, because when he steps out of the station there's that little snap in the air for the first time. He likes cool weather, getting his nice sweaters out of the cedar chest; likes Halloween, seeing the kids in their Power Ranger outfits. Or whatever the hell the nieces and nephews are wearing this year; he can ask them when they come over tomorrow. And this Halloween he's gonna buy bags and bags of candy, just leave 'em lying around the new apartment, enjoy watching Kowalski twitch himself half to death trying not to eat them days ahead of time.

And then he remembers fall means that damn hayride again.

So by the time he lets himself into their apartment he's cranky. And Kowalski's coming out of their bedroom with a box full of his stuff, headed for the guest room, not looking real cheery himself.

And Ray gets that. It's not like he's thrilled about playing "we're just roommates," whenever his family comes over. But--Jesus, his family, what else can he do?

He goes into the kitchen, figuring he'll whip up a nice supper by way of a half-assed apology, but he gets one good look at the room and spins on his heel, because now he's fucking furious.

"You don't have to be an asshole about it," he says to Kowalski, who's got his arms full of his shoes now, leaving a trail of dropped ones down the hallway.

"Huh?"

"I know it's no fun moving your stuff all the time, okay? I know you don't like acting like I'm not--" and he resorts to a handwave, because they've never figured out, never said what it is that he is, exactly. "Acting like we're just roommates."

"Hey, it's your family, your call, whatever, not bothering me," Kowalski says, but he's hunkering down, trying to pick up a dropped sneaker and dropping a boot while he does it. "What'd I do that was asshole-ish, exactly?"

Ray fights the urge to help him with the shoes, hangs onto the mad as hard as he can.

"You don't have to act like you think I'm gonna steal your liquor," he says. "I mean, yeah, Frannie and the kids are gonna think it's weird if we don't have separate closets, but I'm pretty sure they don't expect you to lock up your cabinets to keep 'em safe from me."

"It's a kid lock, you moron," Kowalski says, tries to reach behind himself for a really ugly loafer and tips over onto his butt. "You never seen one? I sorta figured you wouldn't want the three-year-old getting into my liquor. Didn't you say he was a climber?"

"Oh," Ray says. "Yeah."

He gets down on his knees and starts gathering shoes, can't think of anything to say for a minute, then manages, "Sorry. That was, uh, nice of you. Thoughtful, even."

Kowalski snorts, grins at him a little, and Ray suddenly--he just feels kind of lightheaded, kneeling here on the damn hallway carpet looking at Kowalski picking up a cowboy boot, of all the fucking stupid things, where does he think he lives anyway?

Ray pounces, and looks like Kowalski wasn't expecting that, hah--Ray's got him pinned in half a second. Pinned and squirming, like he's trying to get out from under, but he's laughing and Ray can tell he's not trying too hard.

Ray kisses him for a long time, lightly at first, just tasting his lips, and then harder and Kowalski's not laughing anymore. Still squirming, but a different kind, a kind that brings his crotch rocking up against Ray's, good good good.

"Shoes turn you on, huh?" he says into Ray's mouth, and his voice has dropped into the kind of huskiness that gives Ray shivers down the back of his neck. Ray doesn't say, just barely manages not to say, "You turn me on," moans instead while he slides his hands up under Kowalski's tee, strokes lightly across his nipples. Kowalski's breathing gets all ragged and loud, and Ray can't take another second without more of his skin, more skin right now.

Ray strips him down and Kowalski just lets him, ends up stretched out naked on the hall carpet with his hands tucked behind his head, looking at Ray.

Ray looks back, looks him up and down, and Kowalski goes from almost-all-the-way-hard to oh-yes-he's-ready just from Ray looking, and Ray will never, ever get tired of that.

Ray holds himself back from going straight for what he wants; runs a palm softly across Kowalski's belly, and Kowalski's eyes close. He makes a rumbly mmmmmmmm noise and Ray smiles. He's never met anybody else who loves that so much--Kowalski's more into belly rubs than most dogs.

Ray pets and scratches his stomach for a minute and then he can't stand to wait anymore, puts his hand on Kowalski's cock and watches him arch up into the touch. Ray goes slow and easy, teasing himself and Kowalski both, because he wants to just make him come hard and fast and now but he also wants what he has, which is Kowalski writhing under him and talking and talking, God that's good and fuck, fuck and hurry up, you bastard.

Finally Ray hurries up, speeds up his hand and closes his eyes from how good it is, from the pleasure of hot soft skin in his hand and Kowalski's stuttering fading into nonsense and the smell of him, the moving and the--good, so good, and he dips his head, fits his mouth around the tip of Kowalski's cock, sucks at the smooth slick heat of it. Kowalski makes some kind of sound with lots of n's and g's in it and drums his hands on the carpet hard and comes in Ray's mouth.

Ray swallows, licks gently as Kowalski starts to go soft, then rests his head on Kowalski's belly for a minute.

"I want you," Kowalski says eventually, and he sounds almost drunk, almost asleep, slow and loopy, "to fuck me. And I donnnnn. Mmmmmm. I don't want carpet burns."

"Okay, yeah," Ray says, because yeah. "Bed."

He gets an arm under Kowalski and helps him stagger into their room, onto their bed, and fucks him until he feels as dopey as Kowalski sounds.

*******************************************************

He halfway wakes up later when Kowalski's climbing out of bed. Ray makes a grumbly noise and Kowalski says, "They're getting here pretty early, it'll just be easier if I sleep in the guest room," and Ray says, "Yeah, okay," and goes back to sleep.

******************************************************

He wakes up really early in the morning; he always does, not a great sleeper since Vegas. But since they moved in here he can usually roll over next to Kowalski, who puts out an amazing amount of heat for such a skinny guy; can curl up behind him and breathe in the smell of his hair and this--kind of cottony smell that he only has when he's asleep, and drift right back off. This morning, though, Ray's alone--oh, right, Kowalski's in the guest room.

Ray lies there for a while, and he's sort of cold and the room smells boring and the silence of nobody else breathing is really loud, and fuck, the guy put in a child lock.

Ray stands up, staggers down the hall with his knees gone stiff from sleeping, opens the guest room door.

"Hey," he says, and Kowalski sits bolt upright, flails his arms out, knocks his glasses off the nightstand. "Zhfuck?!?" he says.

"Whoa, whoa, calm, everything's okay," Ray says.

"What," Kowalski says. "When? Whattime. Izzit?"

"'Bout 5:30," Ray says. Kowalski moans and flops back onto the pillow. Ray walks over and sits down on the edge of the narrow bed. "Listen," he says.

"Mmgkay."

"We've got this Vecchio tradition thing. Well, we've got a lot of them. Right. But this one, this fall one, is we all go out to this stupid orchard way the hell out somewhere, and the kids are halfway carsick by the time we even get there, and then we get on this stupid hay wagon and hay itches, and the stupid driver gives the kids caramel apples and if I suggest that maybe they shouldn't EAT them right now, they CRY, and then they eat the stupid caramel apples and throw up on my shoes."

Kowalski waves a hand at him in a languid, "And?" sort of way.

"And I want you to come with me."

Kowalski sits back up, rubs vigorously at his face, looks at Ray a little more alertly. "First," he says, "you make it sound SO appealing, so, no. Second, that's just dumb--I mean, your family would wonder--why would a roommate get hauled along on some godawful thing like that?"

"Exactly," Ray says, and Kowalski blinks at him. "I'm not ready to say anything, okay?" Ray says. "But I'm ready for them to wonder. I want to stop leaving you here and going to dinner there and having them ask if I'm seeing anybody, and I'm ready to, at Christmas, I want to dress you up and show you off." And Ray winces, because that probably sounded either sappy or insulting or maybe both. But Kowalski just looks at him for a second and then scoots over a little, raises the corner of the sheet up.

Ray slides under with him; there's no room so they have to be all tangled up, wrapped around each other. Kowalski tucks his face into Ray's neck and murmurs, "No cummerbund, okay?" and Ray says, "Yeah, fine, but I'm picking the tie," and breathes in Kowalski's scent and goes back to sleep.