bitch cat

You clutch at your chest, the shock of finding an entire person standing behind you making your skin feel like it teleported 1cm to the left without you.

“You weren’t hearing me,” he says by way of an apology. You snatch the earbud back.

“That’s the POINT.”

“You said that info was on a thumb drive?”

“I said it will be,” you say, frazzled. “I’ve got like twenty balls in the air right now, Leon. Don’t break my concentration.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“Respect the status,” you snap, referring to the Do Not Disturb designation that he had bypassed by showing up in person.

Your tone echoes back in your ears and you shut your eyes, sighing and rubbing at a spot on your forehead. You can feel a monumental headache building, but that’s no reason to be nasty. Leon’s under the same tight deadlines.

“Sorry.”

“I get it,” he says, picking up the empty wrapper from your breakfast bar and transferring it to your trash can. There’s a deep scratch on his arm, gummy and raw, held shut with butterfly closures.

“I’ll have it ready by EOD,” you say, pronouncing the acronym like it’s a word. Ee-odd. It’s an olive branch poking up through the hellfire: an inside joke between the two of you. The corner of his mouth stretches into that half-smile.

“Roger, Earworm.”

The bastard thinks it’s a funny nickname: always the voice in my ear. And it is funny, because it was never mean-spirited. Some of the other field operatives get borderline malicious with their interpersonal nicknames.

You toss a balled-up paper at him; he twists and it bounces off his hip.

“So fuck off, Toothskin.”

When you’d first thrown that one back at him you’d won one of his genuine laughs, the kind you only got when you really surprised him. Always making it by the skin of your teeth.

A trainee had said once that your nicknames sounded mean, that they made you sound like unhygienic trolls or rotted goblins. They’d suggested something like Angel and Lucky instead, because it was sentimentally the same thing and positivity would strengthen your team dynamic.

Three guesses if they’d ever completed the program.

You’d never told Leon about that lunch room conversation. You didn’t need to watch him die laughing.

In your cubicle, his smile stretches a little wider, then he glances at his watch. Cursing under his breath, he leaves at an urgent clip. You’re already facing your computer again with your stolen earbud crammed back in.

The silent ticking of the clock remains deafening.

You love the sounds of coming home after a long day, but tonight it all sounds especially serene.

The thump of your shoes, kicked off carelessly in the foyer.

The shf of stiff fabric shed from your tired body, the blissful whisper of well-worn, downy-soft pajamas slipping over your skin.

The delicate clink of a wineglass; the full-throated cascade of a generous pour.

You take a heavy sip and lean against your kitchen island, closing your eyes and releasing a long breath. God. Trapped at your desk all day and then six hundred interceptions when you were finally allowed to leave? You felt like a fucking running back making a mad dash for the endzone. The night air had never tasted so sweet, once you'd finally made it through the doors.

Your oven makes a series of quiet clicks, coming back up to temperature. Even if dinner’s just thawed leftovers, again, you’d set yourself up for something fresh, too, because you fucking deserve it. You’re already starting to smell it. You take another sip of wine and smile.

And then you remember. It strikes you like a horrible bolt of lightning.

At the same time, your phone starts ringing on the countertop.

Incoming Call Toothskin

“Fuck!”

You want to throw your wineglass. How the fuck did you forget? > Answer

“Fuck, Leon, I’m so sorry, I completely fucked it–“

“Hey, whoa,” he says, but you’re still talking.

"It’s in my fucking bag, I was on my way to drop it off and I got–“

He says your name; you barely hear it.

“Fuck! I can’t believe I just fucking walked out– I’ll come drop it off, okay? I can– I’ll just … shit, the fucking oven–"

"HEY," he says, raising his voice. "I’m already in the car. What’s your location?"

When Leon knocks at your door, you swing it open and then hurry back into the house like a reverse doorbell-ditch. He blinks, hand still raised in a frozen knock.

“Just come in!” You shout over the beeping of the kitchen timer.

Leon steps inside and closes the door softly behind himself, looking around.

You hadn’t turned on any lights in the front hall; the kitchen sits as a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Leon clocks your tumbled shoes under your hanging coats, the splay of your keys on the side table where you’d tossed them. Ready to be fucking done with the day. Despite the dark, the front hall is cozy. Your coats hold whispers of your perfume. There’s a hint of clean laundry and an undercurrent of something more complex, almost earthy; the house smells lived in. By you.

It also, overwhelmingly, smells like fresh bread.

You’re setting the steaming, crackling loaf on a cooling rack and slapping the oven gloves off of your hands when Leon wanders into the light of your kitchen.

"I didn’t know you baked,” he says, eyes on the dark golden crust, split open where you’d scored the dough.

"Not really mission-critical information," you say, and pull open your work bag that you’ve hauled onto the kitchen island. Digging around, you find the thumb drive, but it’s tumbled into the bottom next to another thumb drive that looks identical.

Neither are labeled.

"Of fucking course," you mutter, pulling out your laptop with jerky, frustrated motions. It clacks against the countertop; you stab the power button to boot it up. “What’s ten more hours, right?”

Leon doesn’t respond. He’s assessing: you, first and foremost, strung out and self-disparaging; the kitchen, dishes in the sink, scattered messes all over; the fridge door, covered in novelty magnets and a dry-erase calendar; the corkboard on the wall.

His attention snags.

Among photos and receipts and postcards (two are from him, brought back from some vibrantly unpleasant mission locations, as a joke), incongruously, there’s a large champagne-gold envelope with a broken wax seal, clearly torn open with some violence.

It’s stabbed into the corkboard with a paring knife.

You toss one of the thumb drives back into your bag and shove the correct one towards Leon across the kitchen island.

"Bingo," you say, then catch what he’s looking at. He gestures to it.

“Jury duty?”

You know he clocks your dark expression before you 180 into something that matches his jesting tone.

“Yeah the circuit court jumped on the discounted stationary when Party City closed.”

“You hate weddings that much?”

“It’s my fucking ex,” you say venomously, picking up your wine glass. “I almost have half a mind to show up just to congratulate him on the brass cojones. Maybe give him a swift kick in them.”

“Sounds like you should.”

“He’d get too much satisfaction from my missing plus-one,” you mutter. “Like aw, your job couldn’t make it tonight? Dickknuckle,” you add under your breath.

Leon’s watching you, a faint crease between his brows.

“What?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, and your brow creases. “Do you want a plus-one?”

You chuff a laugh, but he doesn’t smile, so you drop yours.

“What, like you know a guy?”

“No. Like I am a guy.”

Your eyebrows lift.

“You want to attend my ex’s wedding.”

“If it means mission success in the swift-kick department, sure,” he says. You narrow your eyes.

“You don’t even know the guy.”

He glances at the stabbed envelope on the corkboard. The blade is lodged; you'd used some force.

“I trust your judgement.”

You cross your arms, searching for a teasing twinkle in his eye, a telltale twitch of his mouth, but he’s just gazing back at you levelly.

“You’re serious,” you realize.

“Always am.”

“Please,” you scoff, but you uncross your arms and reach for your bread knife, throwing him a sidelong glance. Considering. “I’ll think about it.”

He picks up the thumb drive, tosses it in the air and catches it.

“Do that,” he says. “I’ll let myself out.”

“Wait,” you call after him, and he backs up to lean through the kitchen doorway. Wordlessly, you hold out a thick, steaming slice of the fresh bread. “For the trouble.”

He takes it.

He’s halfway to the front door when you hear him groan loud, almost obscene.

“Fuck that’s good.”

The front door closes.

His voice echoes in your ears for a while. Your cheeks are only pink from the heat of the kitchen; you turn and shut the oven off.

Earworm The mission, should you choose to accept it:

A photo loads into the text thread and Leon taps it open.

It’s the wedding invite. There’s a narrow slit bisecting the date, the same width as a paring knife blade.

He skims the details.

Mid-July. Out of state. Outdoors, in a nature preserve. Strictly formal, but no black or white dress.

He eyes the font, the thick textured paper with raw, ripped edges, the embossed leaf detailing.

It’s a vegan menu, isn’t it, he texts back.

Earworm Pescetarian

He snorts. Another text drops in from you.

Earworm You can plant the invite. Grows forget-me-nots

Of course it does.

Earworm Thought about wearing white but they might have me shot

There’s strength in numbers.

Earworm Enabler

Is this not Operation Rock The Boat?

Earworm Can’t rock it if we’re kicked out. Game plan is malicious compliance

… you’re putting me in a dress, aren’t you.

Earworm Hmm. Tempting.

There’s a fucking chandelier in the fitting room.

Under the sparkling, crystalline light, surrounded by three floor-to-ceiling mirrors, you take in your chosen battle dress from every angle.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” you say out loud.

“You’re done already?” Leon’s voice is muffled, closed in another cubicle across the wide, thin carpet.

“It’s a slip dress,” you call back. “Not many fastenings to tangle with.”

It’s an avocado green slip dress, silky and alluring, with thin shoulder straps and a scoopy cowl neck. It’s definitely your shade. It highlights your freckles and your eyes; it shows off your arms, your collarbones, your neck. What it doesn’t reveal, it hints at, like a prize behind a curtain.

You turn again to admire the back. It’s a lot of cake to be bringing to someone else’s wedding, but he invited it.

You step out into the main space. There are more chandeliers overhead and a mirrored sort of apse at the end of the carpeted runway.

You can hear clothing rustling behind the door of the fitting room directly across from you.

“Sure you can manage all those buttons?”

The door opens and Leon’s there, looking down to fix the lay of his lapels.

“Not quite my kryptonite, but thank–“

He looks up and forgets what he's saying. Forgets where he's going, too. He stands frozen outside his fitting room, just staring at you.

That’s okay; you’re staring at him, too.

The last time you’d seen him in a suit, you were behind a desk watching a grainy, quarter-screen, black-and-white camera feed. That had had very little impact.

This? This has impact. It’s punched your stomach into a somersault.

This suit is camel-brown, the dress shirt a pastel green. The cut of the suit accentuates his broad shoulders, his tight waist; the pants make his legs look longer. The shirt brings out the green in his grey eyes, makes his skin – his lips – look a little pinker.

You were already well aware of how handsome he is, in a rugged, untouchable, dangerous Special Agent sort of way. But he’s standing here in the suit that you picked to compliment your dress and you can’t remember anyone looking more fucking attractive ever in your entire life.

And the way he always carries himself with that self-assuredness, like nothing could ever bowl him over?

He’s staring at you, and he’s looking a little bowled over.

The moment is gone just as quickly as it arrived. He pushes his hand through his hair and the unflappable Leon is back.

“Don’t you clean up nice.”

You shut your mouth with a click.

“Speak for yourself,” you say, heading for the mirrors at the end of the runway. He follows you, standing just behind your shoulder.

The two of you are a fucking one-two knockout. You look so good together, you can’t face it for more than a few blinding seconds before your chest starts feeling tight.

You sit down heavily on one of the velvet chairs between fitting room doors and manage not to put your head in your hands. Leon looks down at himself, smoothing a hand over the buttons of his suit.

“You don’t like it.”

"No, it’s fucking perfect," you bite out.

"What’s wrong?"

"This whole thing is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous." You're short on breath. You can feel panic rising, tight bands around your lungs. You do put your head in your hands, clutching at your hair to stop the tremble in your fingers.

"Hey," he says, crouching down in front of you. "Where’s this coming from?"

"Why am I dragging you into this? I don’t care about him or what he thinks! I don’t care!"

"I volunteered," Leon reminds you.

"Why?"

He does the facial equivalent of a shrug.

"No bioweapons? Open bar? You tell me.”

You unclench your fists from your hair and sit back to look at him, your head against the wall. He meets your gaze, calm and even.

He’s so fucking beautiful. You can’t let on about the gymnastics routine your stomach’s doing.

“If his brother's there, don't rule out bioweapons,” you say.

“Mm. BO?”

You shake your head. “GI.”

“Noted. Book of matches for a quick escape.”

You close your eyes, huffing a little laugh through your nose.

“We’re not locked into anything,” he tells you quietly. “You’re calling the shots.”

“Mm,” you acknowledge, and take a deep breath. “Just another mission.”

“With free dinner.”

Something lands on your knee and you open your eyes; it’s Leon’s hand, palm-up. A question. An offering.

You give him a pained look.

“It’s pescetarian.”

“Could be a red herring.”

Your gaze goes wooden. He raises his eyebrows, innocent.

“Ugh, I hate you,” you say, but clap your hand into his waiting palm. He hauls you to your feet. And he’s not done.

"A bait-and-switch?"

"Stop," you groan, shoving him towards his fitting room.

"A shell game.”

"Ignoring you!" The door to your fitting room shuts and you start wriggling out of the dress.

You almost rip it when Leon yells FISH from across the way and you fall into helpless laughter.

Toothskin Have you checked the registry?

I’m liking the 200-year-old sourdough starter

Toothskin Old yeast… what milestone anniversary is that?

200th. Keep up

And then the day arrives.

Leon puts the Porsche in park and you both sit back, observing the battlefield.

The nature preserve vista stretches vast beyond the front bumper, all dappled sunlight and swaying greens with scatters of bright, energetic color. The sky is a vibrant blue and dotted with cotton-puff clouds, the birds are singing, and there’s enough of a breeze to prevent stagnant air without upsetting meticulous hairstyles. It’s a perfect day in a gorgeous setting.

You’re clutching the invite, unawares, and the heat and moisture from your hands has warped the textured paper. Leon glances down and gently tugs it from your grasp.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m just… trying to remember the last time I saw him.”

“On the Save the Date.”

“Heard him, then. I’m trying to remember what he said to me.”

“Do you think he remembers?”

“No.”

“Blank slate, then,” Leon says, glancing in the rearview. Guests are meandering towards the gap in the low, rustic wooden fence, trickling into the sanctuary. “What are your boundaries?”

“What?”

“As your date. We covered our story; what’s your stance on PDA?”

“Oh.” You wave it off. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

He scoffs, incredulous. “We’re at a wedding, as a couple, and you look like that,” he says, indicating your whole look with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “You want people to think you’re dating a eunuch?”

You stare at him like you’re going to fire something back, but there’s nothing in the chamber. He’s disarmed you. Maybe fried your circuitry a little.

“Here,” he prompts, and holds his hand out over the gear shift. “Do you like holding hands with a partner?”

You can’t be this flustered. He’s just gathering intel for the undercover operation. This is tactical.

You take his hand, feigning nothing but mild agreement while your traitorous pulse picks up.

“Sure, it’s fine.”

He adjusts, lacing your fingers together, watching your face.

“Still fine?”

“Still fine.” His palm is warm and rough, callouses at the base of every finger from intensive strength training. His thumb lightly strokes your hand.

“If I touch your back?”

You tamp down a shiver, keeping your voice neutral.

“Fine, from the waist up.”

“Your hair?”

“Why my hair?”

He gently frees his hand, brushes his fingers over your ear like he’s fixing a windblown lock.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fine.”

He traces his thumb from your temple down to your jaw, delineating the side of your face.

“Is this okay to kiss?”

Despite the car still running and the AC blowing, your skin is hot and buzzing and you’re feeling that tight panic start to threaten your lungs again. It’s too close and intimate in here. You swat his hand away.

“Look, I know you’re good at reading a room, okay? So I’ll trust you. Just don’t fucking grope me in front of the bride’s grandma and I think we’ll be fine.”

“Killjoy.”

You sharpen on him. He just blinks at you owlishly, unthreatened.

You poke him in the side, where you know he’s sensitive. He clamps his arm down and jerks away.

“Alright, roger! No show for grandma!”

It pokes you back, right in the funny bone. You collapse into laughter, forehead pressed into his shoulder, and the bands around your chest loosen.

When you recover, he’s still smiling quietly, smug. You give him a shove, then double check your makeup in the visor mirror.

“Alright, let’s go, before all the worst seats are taken.”

The ceremony is gorgeous.

The altar stands under the strong, reaching branches of an ancient oak, in a serene forest clearing bordered by flickering tea lights in pristine mason jars. The bride looks Barbie-perfect in her flawless bright white dress, and the groom – your ex – is practically glowing himself. She’s probably got him on a juice detox, yoga regimen and seventeen-step skincare routine. But it’s working.

They look beautiful together, and hopelessly in love.

Your hands have knotted in your lap and your jaw is clenched tight.

You’re not jealous.

Well. You’re not jealous of her for who she’s marrying. You might be jealous of… everything else.

Something touches your wrist. It’s Leon, and just the warmth of his fingers on your skin dissolves your acidity.

Your hands unknot as Leon slips his fingers in with yours, his palm a warm and comfortable weight. You hook your free hand loose at his elbow, hugging his arm, and he leans in to press a kiss to your temple, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You lean into it.

At the end of the ceremony, the freshly-minted husband and wife make a bottleneck that guests have to pass through on their way to the reception tent. You’re in line, wondering when ‘congratulations’ will stop sounding like a real word.

There are only seven people in line ahead of you. You’re breathing even, because you’re not anxious. You’re fine.

“Should I tell him he’s got a seed in his hair?” Leon’s speaking low right next to your ear, his eyes on the man in front of you in line. You refocus; it’s the type of seed that travels on the wind with a bit of fluff, like a dandelion. The guy’s hair is dark enough that it’s not hard to spot.

You turn your head to speak in Leon’s ear.

“No. Ten he’ll never notice.”

He smirks.

“Fifteen his wife won’t, either.”

Five people ahead of you.

“Bad bet, she’s hardly looked at him since they stood up. Twenty it’s a random stranger that tells him.”

“Bad bet, you’re a random stranger,” he says, his breath tickling your ear.

Three people ahead of you. You’re biting back a smile.

“Damn.”

Leon’s hand hasn’t left your waist.

“You came!”

Your ex lights up when he sees you next in line, and you’re even more surprised when he goes in for the hug. Leon feels you move towards it on rote and lets you go; the hug is light and short-lived. Your ex’s frame seems smaller than you remember, but maybe that’s because you’ve had Leon glued to your hip. He’s taller than your ex, maybe all in the swoop of his bronze hair, but he’s definitely… bigger.

“God, you look incredible,” your ex is saying, but there’s no depth or heat to it. It sounds just like it would if you were two former friends that hadn’t seen each other in almost a decade, and that hits you… strangely. You were lovers, for fuck’s sake, you were together for more than three years! Why did he invite you here if it wasn’t to gloat? To rub all this in your face? You hadn’t separated on good terms, but there isn’t a shred of animosity you’re getting from him right now. He truly just seems happy to see you.

And, annoyingly, that comes as a relief even while it stumbles you. It’s like you were holding the end of a wire at tension only to find it wasn’t attached to anything. You can’t help but feel a little childish about it, but in your defense, the wedding invite completely out of the blue? That was a crazy thoughtless move. How many other exes had been invited today, and how many had shown? How many other invites were still stabbed into a corkboard somewhere?

So maybe you’ve stretched your legs for nothing. His cojones aren’t brass, he’s just kinda dumb. And you know what? Good for him.

You return to Leon’s bubble and his hand is right back at your waist, casually possessive. You wind your arm around his back while you enthuse – and it is genuine – how stunning and happy the bride and groom look together. Your ex pulls his new wife close and kisses the side of her face, then gestures to Leon.

“And who’s your lucky gentleman?”

Leon lets you introduce him – you're calling the shots – shaking hands before settling in against you again, and you can feel his attention’s on you. You can see them seeing something on his face and you look up at him.

Your tummy backflips.

His eyes are so soft and fond, looking between yours. There’s a shade of something that looks like pride, too, and you wonder if he can feel that the fight’s left your body.

He kisses your forehead, then offers the bride and groom another congrats and beautiful ceremony and we’ll see you inside, opening your exit. You walk out together from the shade of the forest, into the July sun, and the light breeze greets you smelling sweet and hot and floral.

When you’re out of earshot, he speaks.

“What’s our sitrep?”

You sigh, defeated.

“You wanna go, don’t you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You signed on for violence.”

“Maybe at first.” The two of you have to break to walk apart on an uneven stretch of path, so he takes your hand instead. “We leave now, what’re the optics?”

“A shellfish allergy.”

“Weak,” he heckles. He’s right. Leaving now would look suspicious.

You tug his hand, grimly indicating the reception tent when he meets your gaze.

“That’s the hot zone. Last chance to run.”

He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, tightens the lace of your fingers together.

“I don’t give up that easy.”

“How did you two meet?”

Of course, as soon as the seat beside Leon vacates one ass, this one drops into it. You remember her from Thanksgivings and Christmases with your ex’s family, and here she is again with that ominous glint in her eye, wine glass already in hand. You grip Leon’s thigh under the table in warning.

“Hi, Auntie.”

“Hello, dear. You’re looking so well," she says, scrunching her nose condescendingly. "So how’d you dupe this one?”

Leon straightens from his casual lean, facing her better while resting his arm over the back of your chair.

“Aren’t we charming.”

Wine Aunt sets her chin in her hand, one eyebrow cocked as she looks Leon up and down, indiscreet. He’d abandoned his suit jacket a while ago, sleeves rolled up his arms, tie stuffed into his pocket so he could unbutton his collar a little. He does look fucking delicious, but you want to scoop out her slimy eyes for ogling him like that.

“Mmm. Certainly,” she purrs at him. So she’s forfeited her tongue, now, too.

You see Leon give her a subtly disgusted up-down in return before he turns his full attention to you instead.

“Met you at work,” he says to you, and you’re obsessed with the way he’s effectively answering Wine Aunt while also cutting her out of the conversation. He glances up at your hair, brushes it back from your forehead. “It was just your voice at first, lots of phone calls. And then I got to meet you.”

Your tummy’s not just fluttering, it’s kicking you. He’s too good at sounding like this, warm and fond and genuine. It’s starting to pinch behind your ribs.

It’s just a show. You’re playing in it, too.

Wine Aunt’s bringing her glass to her lips, muttering something like isn’t that sweet, expression fully soured. You can see she’s turned away, scanning the tables for her next victim, and your quiet smile at Leon grows a sharpened edge of victory. Then she leaves without another word and you have to bite back a full grin.

“Did she really just try to come on to me?”

“She’s notorious.”

“Mm. I thought about saying we met at an AA meeting, but she wouldn't know anything about that.”

Your eyes sparkle with dark delight. “Leon Kennedy. You are here for violence.”

You both jump when the speakers give a sudden feedback screech, the DJ raising his arm in apology before checking the microphone again. He announces it’s time for the speeches, and Leon exchanges a harrowed glance with you before grabbing both your empty drinks glasses.

“Same again?”

“Stronger.”

You haven’t been to a single wedding where the speeches didn’t set your teeth on edge.

Tonight might be the worst yet. You’re glad, at least, that there’s a literal spotlight somewhere else in the tent, leaving your table in heavy shadow. Both you and Leon look like you're on trial awaiting a heavy verdict rather than listening to weepy, heartfelt sentiments and weak jokes that rarely land.

Your fingers draw aimless lines up and down your drink glass, smearing through the condensation. Your eyes are on Leon’s back; he’s hunched forward, elbows on the table.

You listen to different iterations of the same gist, hear the same buzzwords, over and over.

Proud. Deserve. Love. Peace. Safety. Long life. Happiness. Together.

They all land like darts, piercing you.

Halfway through the father of the bride’s speech, Leon gets up, unreadable. He sets his hand on your back and leans down, his voice low and even.

“I’ll be right back.”

It’s calm, casual. Normal.

The giveaway is when his whiskey goes with him, and the direction he heads.

Not for the bathroom. Not for the bar.

The exit.

The reception tent is set up next to a huge, beautifully manicured garden courtyard, all high shrubs and fragrant bushes and bursting clusters of flowers lining stone paths that stretch and curve and cross over each other, a loose labyrinth. In the middle of it all stands a large stone fountain, its cascade a gentle burble rather than a showy spray, its wide pool full of blooming lilypads and the white and orange flicker of koi fish. Above it is a massive circular pergola, a slat-wooded ring dripping with cafe lights and vining flowers like a great wild halo.

The loudspeakers in the tent become just a shapeless thrum once you’re past the first wall of shrubs, and the summer chorus of crickets and frogs work to drown it out entirely. The sun’s almost down; fireflies are flashing and flickering in the dense foliage as you navigate the paths, heading for the sound of water.

And that’s exactly where you find him.

Leon’s sitting on the edge of the stone pool, head down, whiskey glass hanging from loose fingers. For a moment you just stand quietly and watch him breathe.

“Hey.”

He looks up; straightens and clears his throat, casually sipping at his drink.

“Hey,” he echoes.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, moving in closer. His eyes reflect the cafe lights like little stars as he looks up to meet your approach. There’s a subtle tightness to his expression, a shadow lurking, but if you didn’t know him like you do, you’d never recognize it. He’s too well trained.

“Do what?”

“Hide.”

He doesn’t deny it. He lowers his gaze and downs the last of his drink.

“You’re missing the speeches,” he says instead.

“Chad has the microphone."

He huffs a humorless laugh through his nose. A breeze meanders through the gardens, stirring through his hair. Not really thinking about it, you trace one finger lightly across his forehead, back over his ear, his hair falling softly back into place. He meets your eyes but your gaze is distant.

The both of you have sacrificed so much, willingly or otherwise, for your line of work. That’s why it’s not you at the sweetheart table tonight, and why it probably never will be. You’ve learned how to ignore the empty spaces, to close them off within yourselves so you can keep moving forward, because you can both see the bigger picture and your places within it.

What you do creates space for happy endings, fights to maintain that space. Tries, every day, to broaden it.

You know you’ve both long given up on the idea that the fight will ever be over. After two decades, it’s inescapable: there will always be something lurking in the shadows, growing in labs, lying in wait. The only way this will end for you is in death; as long as you’re alive, you have to keep going. That’s your lifelong commitment.

You can train yourself to endure the emptiness all you want. It’s still fucking lonely.

But if today has proven anything to you, it’s that you’re not alone. For once, you’re not by yourself behind a desk in some dark safehouse while Leon's out who-knows-where, running with Death on his heels. For the first time, he’s here, he’s right in front of you, you can touch him, comfort him the way you’ve always wished you could, hearing him breathe brokenly down the comms on particularly difficult missions.

And what missions weren’t difficult?

“Thank you for being here,” you tell him quietly, distantly. You card his hair back over his ear, still busy in your own head, just liking how it feels. His hair is soft, and his strands of silver look like threads of gold in the warm, soft lighting.

His hand, resting on his own thigh, brushes your leg through the silky fall of your skirt. You’re standing between his legs at the edge of a bubbling fountain, playing with his hair while fireflies dance in the fragrant summer air around you.

Your fingers hesitate, starting to curl like a dying vine near his temple as the awareness sets in. But before you can draw your hand away, he dips his head to brush your fingers against his hair again.

Don’t go.

His eyes close and his head sways back when you comb both of your hands into his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp. His hands are settled on your legs now, just leaning there, still rested on his own thighs. His shoulders are loose, tension drained, and his lips are parted.

It’s such a show of trust that it almost overwhelms you. Not only are you blocking sightlines but his head is in your hands, and despite the nooks and shadows of the courtyard all around you, he's got his eyes closed. This is more surrendered than you’ve ever seen him.

You know he’s lethal, body honed not just to handle weapons, but into a weapon itself. He can snap a spine with the heel of his palm. He can crush a skull with his foot, send a body absolutely sailing with the strength of his legs.

But he’s also been one of the kindest, gentlest people you know. He cracks stupid jokes when he knows you’re wound up, but only after checking in with you. He looks at you with such adoration. He touches you with respect and care.

Is all of it really just for the role?

His lashes are a thick, dark sweep over the tops of his cheeks. You run your thumb over his eyebrow, lightly down the bridge of his nose, and he opens his eyes. You can see the green in his irises as he studies you; the dark halo of blue that rings them.

“I like this better," he tells you.

"What?"

He touches his ear, miming an earpiece, then sets his hands on your hips, light. Easily moved or brushed away. You do neither.

Your heart thumps a little faster. This touch is not waist-up.

This isn’t the role.

You lean down, speaking directly against the shell of his ear.

“Don't get used to it, Kennedy.”

You’ve barely finished saying his name before he’s turned his head and caught your lips in a kiss.

You draw back a little, startled, your lips buzzing. His eyes are half-lidded looking up at you, unapologetic.

“No one’s watching,” you check.

“I know.” He looks down at your lips.

Your hands skim his jaw, his stubble rasping against your skin.

“This was never about aiding in my revenge, was it.”

He shakes his head. His thumbs are stroking your hipbones through the silk of your dress.

"I just wanted this," he admits.

Suspended within the summer song of crickets and frogs, under whispering leaves and beside softly burbling water, you lean down and kiss him. His hands slide up to your waist, mouth so tender on yours, kissing you back while the fireflies wink and dance around you.

You’re not alone.

On AO3

It’d been a long day, one full of chasing after men Pearson had told Ray were a liability, and he was required to put them down in case they were to expose anything about the… business Pearson has been running all over London. 

He’d gotten his hands bloody, had to chase off a bunch of men who’d witnessed it, and destroy any and all evidence that he’d done anything to begin with. 

It was late when he got home, nearing midnight when he finally walked through the door. He was done with everything, his back aching a bit as he shrugged out of his jacket, and he didn’t even bother to take off his shoes by the door - instead heading straight towards the kitchen, where a beer was calling his name. 

It wasn’t often Ray drank beer, but today was exhausting, and he needed something to relax him and take the edge off, and he didn’t feel like smoking right now. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle, tossing the cap into the recycle bin once he’d taken it off. 

But he didn’t get the chance to take a sip before he heard the sound of one of the floorboards in the den creaking - something he’d been meaning to fix since the noise was starting to drive him up the wall every time he walked in that area, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. 

Someone was in his house. 

Ray paused instantly, the beer bottle quickly forgotten on the counter as he grabbed his gun that had been tucked away in his slacks. He lifted it and aimed it as he took a step towards the den, then another, his eyes expertly scanning each room and doorway he passed as he crept closer. Each step was measured and careful, allowing him to get the jump on whoever was here if he needed to. 

He reached the den, his eyes squinting as he pointed the gun at the dark corner, knowing that was the only place to hide in the open space of the room. Ray locked his jaw, not appreciating the fact that some fucker had decided to choose tonight to break into his house when he’s already had a long day. 

“Who is that?” he asked, his voice deadly and calm, his posture damn near perfect and lethal. 

Then he heard the sound of heels, and he straightened up a bit. And then he saw a face he hadn’t seen in months. 

You stepped out of the shadows, clad in heeled boots, a form fitting black dress, a long coat and red gloss on your lips. Your own gun was raised, pointed at him as his was at you, and Ray saw that you had a faint bruise under your eye that was half-healed and faded. 

A smile formed on your lips as you kept your gun pointed at him, and he recalled a conversation you and he had a year ago after he’d finished fucking you into the next week - you’d been trained to never be the first one to put the gun down. 

“Ouch,” you said, your voice low and teasing as you took another step towards him. You pouted at him, lifting a brow as your eyes flickered from his to his gun, a knowing look on your face. “This doesn’t feel like a very warm welcome, baby.” you observed, poking at your inner cheek with your tongue. 

Ray’s eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down. Fuck, you looked good. Too good. 

That dress hugged every inch of you, and those boots made him want to bury his face between your legs, preferably keeping them on while he got you off with his tongue. 

He lowered his gun first, also well aware that he should never be the first one to do that, but as he held your gaze, he knew he had nothing to worry about. 

“A warm welcome? After breaking into my house like some fucking thief?” he asked, tucking his gun into the waistband of his slacks as he closed the rest of the distance between you and him. He lifted his hand, tilting your face up slightly as he looked at the bruise marring your skin. “What happened here?” he asked, his other hand grabbing onto your hip with a certain possessiveness he’d never felt before he met you. 

It was obvious you’d gotten into it with someone, though this seemed to be the only injury, so it hadn’t escalated too much. Still, someone put their hands on you, and that didn’t sit well with Ray, even though he knows how dangerous your job and life are. 

You lowered your own gun, tucking it into the deep pocket on the inside of your coat as you looked up at him. “Business transaction gone wrong,” you answered, vague and blunt, as if you were talking to anyone other than a man you trusted completely. You lifted a shoulder in a shrug, clearly trying to brush it off even though he could tell the bruise had been a few shades darker only a couple days ago. “I failed to meet a quota last week. Boss wasn’t very happy with me. But it looked worse before. Trust me, this is nothing.”

Ray’s jaw locked once more, a muscle twitching in his cheek as his thumb gently moved along your wounded skin. “I should pay your boss a quick visit. Teach him what happens when he touches things that aren’t his to touch,” he thought out loud, “Should’ve called me. I would’ve handled that cunt for you.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a fond smile on your lips, one he knew was reserved for just him. “I can handle him myself, Ray,” 

He moved his hand upwards, tucking your hair behind your ear. “How long have you been here? In London?” he asked, wanting to shift the topic as quickly as possible since he didn’t like thinking about all the things you get up to whenever you and he part ways. 

“Couple hours,” you said, placing your palms flat against his chest. “I came straight here, then let myself in when I saw you were out. I wanted to surprise you but that stupid floorboard gave me away. Oh, and I don’t think it counts as breaking in if I have a key.” you added, reaching for the thin chain around your neck and lifting it up, showing him the key that was attached to it. 

He’d given it to you a while ago, and told you that if you ever found yourself in trouble, if you ever needed to hide or if you needed anything at all, you could come here. 

“Yeah, been meaning to fix that,” Ray leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours as he breathed you in, your familiar scent he’d missed so much grounding him in a way nothing else ever had. “How long do we have this time, love?” he asked quietly, his hands moving down to your hips. “Tell me you’ll stay longer than a night. Tell me you’ll stay for two.”

Your shoulders dropped at that, your hands coming up to grab onto his cardigan. “I can’t tell you that,” you whispered, your fingers twisting the fabric as you pressed your forehead more firmly against his. “But we have tonight, right? And tomorrow morning…” you offered, pulling back to look up at him as one hand lifted to caress his cheek. 

Ray sighed, exhaling through his nose as his fingers dug gently into your hips. One night. That was all he ever got to have with you for as long as he’s known you, with the exception of the weekend you and he spent together when you first met. If he’d known that those two days would be the longest he’d spend with you at a time in the future, he would’ve made the most of it a lot more than he already had. 

But he was greedy, and even though he wanted longer with you, he’d take whatever time he could get with you. “Yes. We have tonight,” he agreed, “And I plan to make the most of every second of it.”

His hands moved down to your thighs, and he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist like second nature as he turned and carried you towards the bedroom. The same routine he’d done with you for the last couple years now, and one he always hoped to continue doing in the future every time you and he have to part ways. 

“I have a feeling that I need to remind you who makes you feel so good,” he murmured, wondering if there will ever be a day where he can confidently say that you are all his, and that no other man has been with you after him. 

You’d implied in the past that your life is too chaotic for a real relationship, and hookups were a lot easier to handle, and he didn’t like to think that was all he was to you. But you’d also implied that you hadn’t been with anyone since meeting him, and he was too afraid of what you might say if he were to ask you - just to confirm it. 

Ray’s grip on you tightened as he carried you down the hall, your soft laugh filling his ears. “You act like I’ll ever be able to forget you,” you teased, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you leaned in and brushed your lips against his ear. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re kind of hard to forget, Ray. Like, impossible, actually.”

He let out a short laugh as he entered his room, not bothering to turn on a light as he set you down on the edge of the bed - king sized, fit for a king. Or so you’ve told him in the past. “Good. ‘Cause you’re branded on me, love. Couldn’t forget you if I tried to,” he said, leaving out the parts where he almost tried to, because he couldn’t fathom that you’d managed to capture him so entirely. 

He took a step back, shrugging off his cardigan and letting it drop to the floor before he was unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze never leaving yours. He could see the way your shoulders rose with every shaky breath you took, trying to come off as if you weren’t as desperate for this as he is. 

“You’re like a drug I can’t quit,” he muttered as his shirt fell to the floor as well, almost annoyed at having his heart belong to you in full. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could see you more than a handful of times a year, if that, but he belonged to a woman he didn’t even know the location of most of the time. “Tell me you feel it too. I’m not alone in this.”

Your eyes flickered down to his chest, and you swallowed harshly before looking back up at him. “You know I do,” you murmured, lifting your hands and placing them on his abs as he towered over you. You leaned in, brushing your lips against his stomach and leaving behind a glossy red stain. Your eyes fluttered shut as you peppered kisses along his skin, breathing him in and leaving him no choice but to believe your words. “I do…”

Ray tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back gently so you were holding his gaze again. “Then prove it,” he challenged, his other hand coming up as well to hook his fingers under your chin. 

He dipped his head down just as you leaned up, your lips connecting in a deep kiss that you had both been waiting for since you saw each other again. His tongue slipped into your mouth as you moaned, and his hands grabbed onto your coat and slid it down your shoulders, letting the heavy fabric hit the ground gently, the muffled thud of the gun barely audible. 

You grabbed onto his face, kissing him harder as you moved further back on the bed, laying down properly. Ray grunted into your mouth as he followed you down, settling between your thighs as he caged you in with his arms. 

He broke the kiss, letting you get some air as he pressed kisses down your jaw and throat, his teeth dragging along your skin. Your dress rode up a bit, letting him feel the heat between your thighs as he pressed himself against you. “Mm, you’re dripping, aren’t you?” he mumbled, grinding his hips against yours as his hands pushed your dress up further, his palms smoothing over your thighs. “Gonna let me taste you? Been too long since I’ve had your sweet pussy.”

You let out a needy moan, biting down on your glossy lip. It was smeared and messy from the kiss, and yet you still looked fucking perfect as you ran your hands up and down his arms. “You know I’d never say no to that,” 

The corners of Ray’s lips turned upwards at that, and he hooked his fingers in the waistline of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aside. At the sight of your bare core, he hummed in appreciation as he pushed your thighs further apart, making his way down your body. “She’s just as pretty as I remember,” he observed, and you let out a laugh. 

“You act like it’s been years. It’s only been, like, five months,”

“Six and a half,” Ray corrected, looking up at you briefly before he guided your legs over his broad shoulders, his eyes level with one of his favorite parts of you. “And that’s a long fucking time, love.”

And it really was. This has been the longest time you and he have gone without seeing each other in the nearly four years you’ve known each other. 

You opened your mouth to shoot another snarky reply his way, but he effectively shut you right up as he ducked his head down, his tongue parting your folds and collecting your wetness like he’d been deprived of it. 

His eyes shut for a few seconds as he tasted you on his tongue, and he had been fucking deprived of this. It’s his favorite taste and he only gets it every once in a very long while, for fucks sake. 

At your soft moan, he buried his face in your pussy, his lips wrapping around your clit and drawing it into his mouth. Your body jolted as soon as he gave it a gentle suck, your head tipping back on the bed and once again fully igniting the fire that had been burning inside him since the night you met. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, spreading your thighs more and opening yourself up completely to him. Your hands reached down and tangled in his hair, your fingers creating a mess of it that he’d only ever allow you to get away with making. A quiet, needy laugh left your lips as you bucked your hips against his face, “So good.”

Ray grunted against your core as he grabbed hold of your hips, holding you still as he flicked your clit with his tongue. He licked along your folds, drinking you in like a man starved for you, and he didn’t even care that he was exactly that. A man unbelievably starved for a woman he feared he’d never be able to truly have. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” he praised, uncaring about the mess your slick was making on his face and your inner thighs. His distaste for that went out the window every time he’s with you. “Could eat this sweet cunt for hours. Keep you right there ‘til you’re begging me to let you cum.” 

You whined at that, rolling your hips against his hands as you shook your head. “You wouldn’t dare,” you said, tugging harder at his hair. “You love making me cum, Ray. I know you do, you’ve said it to me before. Pretty sure you were pussy drunk, but the point still stands.”

He couldn’t even deny that, because it was true. He rather enjoyed getting you off far more than making you wait for it, especially after you both had been waiting for this for way too long now. 

Letting out a deep laugh against you, he pulled back just slightly to look up at you through the increasingly fogging lenses of his glasses. “Pussy drunk on the finest cunt in London,” he agreed, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “And I just know what I want, and right now I want to feel you cum on my tongue.”

You whined loudly, your eyes shutting as you arched your back, your breasts nearly spilling free from the top of your dress. “Fuck,” you whimpered, all but yanking on his hair now and pulling him close until his face was buried against you once more. “God, yes.” 

Ray sucked on your clit again, sliding two thick fingers inside you and stretching you out. “That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice deeper than before as he flicked his tongue over your clit quickly, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. “Gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Can feel how close you are for me, baby.” 

A soft moan left your mouth, the sound filling his room that seemed to have come back to life now that you and he had reunited again. “Oh, fuck. Yes, Ray. Fuck yes, I’m coming,” you gasped, your nails scratching at his scalp as your thighs tried closing around his head. He felt the way you coated his fingers, your warmth washing over him as he dipped his head down and collected some of it with his tongue. 

Ray groaned against you, working you through it as he watched your face for every reaction he coaxed out of you. Once you stopped shaking, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth to suck clean, a muffled groan vibrating against his digits. 

He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he tangled one hand in your hair, angling your head so he could kiss you even deeper. “Missed you,” he muttered against your mouth, his hips pressing against yours. 

You moaned softly, looking up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. “Missed you,” you said back, the two of you having agreed to not say much more than that whenever you found yourselves in this exact situation. It was supposed to make it easier, but the longer this went on, the harder it became. 

Ray sat back on his knees, his hands sliding down your legs until his fingers brushed along the tops of your boots. One by one he unzipped them and let them thump gently on the floor, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so, the sight of you sprawled out on his bed one he hopes stays branded in his mind forever. 

“Been so long since I’ve been fucked,” you confessed, pulling him back down and reaching for the zipper on his slacks. “Since the last time I was here with you.” 

He liked that you added that, because you’d been his last time too, and the thought of you with another man made his blood boil. 

You pushed down his slacks and boxers, and he kicked them off, as well as his shoes, before crawling up your body again. His hand slid under your back, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress, and he tugged it down before guiding the tight fabric off your body. 

“Been so hard for you. Needed you so bad,” he confessed back, settling between your thighs once again, his heavy cock pressing against your slick folds. 

He reached down and guided himself inside you, the lack of condom all too familiar since you and he had never used one. He probably should, seeing how you and he aren’t officially together, but he knew he was clean, and he trusted you are as well. 

It also made him feel closer to you, but that was a bit too much to admit to right now.

“So goddamn tight. Couldn’t forget how perfect you feel even if I wanted to,” he muttered, one hand sliding under your back while the other tangled in your hair. He gave you a moment to adjust, your walls just as tight as he remembered, then started to thrust into you with deep, steady strokes. 

Ray leaned in and kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans as he rocked his hips against yours, making love to you in a way he hoped came off as just sex, because he knew that was all this could be for now and possibly forever. 

Your moan was muffled against his mouth, your hands coming up to grab onto the sides of his face. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back and trying to pull him closer. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “Feels so fucking good. God, baby, needed this so bad.”

Ray grunted as your heels dug into his back, his grip on you tightening as he angled his hips to reach the sweet spot deep inside of you. “You take me so well. Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he rasped, his hands sliding down to grab onto your ass. He dipped his head down and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, your soft skin pressing against his face with every thrust. 

Your body jolted against his as he increased both the pace and force of his hips, but his grip on you kept you flush against his chest. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tugged on his hair, pulling his mouth back up to yours for a deep, messy kiss that was all teeth and tongue. 

With every roll of his hips, the headboard hit the wall over and over again, the creaking of the bed mixing in seamlessly with yours and his sounds. “Feels fucking perfect, love,” he muttered against your lips, swallowing your moans with every deep kiss. 

You kept your mouth attached to his as you grabbed onto his shoulders, pushing up against him and rolling over so he was on his back and you’re on top of him. “Feels so fucking good,” you groaned, clearly needing his as badly as he did. Your hips rolled against his as you braced your hands on his chest, your eyes hooded and your lips parted. You rode him like your life depended on it, every grind of your body making him feel more and more feral for you. 

“Fuck, just like that. Ride me, baby,” he grunted, grabbing onto your hips with a tight grip. The new position made him feel impossibly deeper inside you, reaching parts no other man ever had before. His fingers dug into your ass, his eyes flickering down to where you and he are connected, and he watched through foggy lenses as your tight pussy gripped his cock like a second skin, his entire length glistening with your arousal. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Gonna… fuck, gonna cum soon. Wanna feel you cum with me.”

One hand moved around to your front, and he used his thumb to rub your clit, wanting to feel you let go first. You cried out helplessly, your body moving on autopilot as your nails dug into the dips of his abs. “Yes, fuck yes. Yes yes yes,” you slurred, grinding against him as you clenched around him tightly. You came with a choked moan, your body stuttering on top of his as you fell apart for him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, cum on my cock,” he murmured, taking it upon himself to give a few more deep thrusts before he was there too. He filled you up, white ropes marking you as his from the inside out, his hands planted firmly on your ass. “Fuck…” he panted, his chest heaving with uneven breaths as he wrapped one hand around the back of your head and pulled you down for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. 

You and he kissed for a long moment after that, Ray’s hands moving up and down your slick back as you both came down from the most overwhelming highs you’d had in months. A soft laugh left your mouth and entered his as you pulled away just a bit, your eyes flickering up to his. “I think you’re a bit fogged up there,” you teased, pushing at the bridge of his glasses. 

Ray let out a deep laugh that vibrated through his chest and into yours. “It’s bloody hot in here,” he muttered, nuzzling his face into your neck and breathing in your scent, hoping to brand it into his senses like he did every time. His hands ran up and down your back, committing every inch of you to memory once again since he refused to waste a second not touching you.

Moments like this were precious, rare, and ones he cherished above all others, and he’d always savor every single second. After all, he never knew when he’d see you next, or if this was the last time. 

He took off his glasses and set them aside, still able to see you through the blurriness in his eyes. He looked down at you with a small, genuine grin on his lips as he lifted a hand and smoothed out your hair. “I have something for you,” he said, then reached over to the nightstand and picked up the joint he’d rolled the previous night but didn’t get around to smoking. “It’s quite fresh still. Rolled it last night.”

You took it from his fingers with a soft gasp, as if he’d just presented you with the best gift you could ever ask for. “I’ve missed your joints,” you groaned, leaning in and pressing a series of kisses to his cheek. “I almost want to save it. Take it with me and light it when I start to miss you.”

Ray hummed, wincing as you finally lifted yourself off him and reached over to set the joint down with more care than needed on the other nightstand that was closer to you. He pulled you back into his arms and cradled you against his chest, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head. “You won’t miss me as soon as you leave again?” he asked, unable to stop the accusing tone from bleeding into his words, but he hated not having you around, and he hated never knowing where you were unless you were right in front of him. “‘Cause I know I’ll fucking miss you. I miss you every time you leave. Do you not miss me as much?”

You propped your chin up on his chest, your eyes soft and your expression sweet - two things he knew were reserved for him. “You know I do,” you whispered, running your fingers along his jaw. “Every single time I go. It’s not easy for me, Ray. It’s actually really fucking hard.”

Ray’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, and he cradled the back of your head in his hand. He hated the thought of you out there, putting yourself in danger because of your job. It never failed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and it fueled the growing need he felt to do something to get you away from that lifestyle. To keep you safe. 

“I know, love. I know it’s not easy. I know,” he said, gently tangling his fingers in your hair. “It kills me every time you leave. I hate… not knowing if you’re alright.”

You gave him a small smile. “You know I’m always careful, Ray,” you said, “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He wanted to say that he’ll always worry about you, but he bit his tongue, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he nodded. “Right,” he agreed, pressing his forehead against yours. “We’ll just make the most of the time we have, like we always do. But promise me something, yeah? Promise that you’ll always find your way back to me. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. I’ll always want you.”

Your smile faded a bit at that, and you pressed your cheek against his chest. “I’m here now, right? I don’t think I could ever stop coming back to you. You’re the one thing keeping me sane, Ray,” you mumbled, pressing your palm flat against his abs. “I’m still here… even though I should be out there trying to make up the money I failed to deliver to my boss. He’s still expecting twenty grand by the end of the week. But I’m already fucked, so why not pop in and actually get fucked by you?”

Your voice held a hint of teasing in it, but he could feel the way you’d become a little on edge, and Ray also tensed up at your words. “Twenty grand? By the end of this week? The hell have you gotten yourself into?” he asked, sitting up slightly and looking down at you. 

You just shook your head, trying to shrug the conversation off. “It’s just my job, Ray,” 

But he wasn’t having any of that as he ran a hand down his face. “Look, I can help with the money, okay? It’s not a problem, just tell me how to do it without drawing… unnecessary attention,” he said, knowing he had that kind of money handy to him - the perks of being close with his boss. 

You let out a huff of air as you rolled onto your back and looked up at the ceiling, reaching up to play with the chain around your neck. “It’s because I missed the quota. He’s… really fucking stingy with that kind of thing, hence the… you know,” you gestured to your eye, and his own dropped down to the bruise again. “I was short two grand and he tripled the original price, made it twenty. But I’ll figure it out, Ray. I don’t… I won’t take your money.”

Ray let out a scoff at that, an anger beginning to build up inside him. Your boss fucking hit you, and probably did worse than that, more than once. The thought had his jaw locking. “He hit you because of two grand? That fucking cunt hit you because-” he had to hold off on saying what he wanted to say, because as much as he wanted to go off on your boss, it wouldn’t help right now. “Listen to me, you helped me out of a tight spot once, it’s about time I returned the favor, yeah?”

“Ray-”

“Don’t. Don’t give me that shit about not taking my money, alright? I think we’re way past that, love. I’m not letting you deal with this shit alone. No fucking way is that happening,” he said, cradling your jaw in his hand and turning your head so you were looking at him again. He leaned in and pressed a hard kiss to your lips before pulling back again. “I’m not offering out of pity or because I feel obligated to. I’m telling you to let me help you because I love you, you stubborn woman.”

Your breath hitched at that, and your eyes visibly widened, and he knew why. He’d never said that to you, that he loves you, but he does, and he has for a long time now. He just held the words back in hopes he could save them for when you came back to him for the last time, and you and he could finally be together, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying them now. 

He loves you, and he wants, needs, to help you out of a situation that would no doubt just get worse if you couldn’t find a way to get that money by yourself. You protect him, and he protects you. That’s the way it’s always been. 

You raised a hand and cupped his cheek, your head shaking slowly. “I’m not your responsibility, Ray. You have no reason to help me or take care of this for me. It’s all on me. I did this to myself,” 

Ray shook his head right back, his gaze intense as he held your stare. “Did no one ever tell you that you can ask for help when you need it? You’re not some burden, baby. What happens to you affects me, that’s how it’s always been,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “Let me do this for you, love. Please.”

You furrowed your brows, and it was obvious you were having an inner debate with yourself, and he didn’t know what side would win, but he was more than prepared to convince you more if he needed to. 

But you just gave him a defeated smile and nod as you tugged him down into a firm kiss. 

Ray melted into you, kissing you back as he pulled your body flush against his. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, “Was that so hard?”

You nodded again, sliding your fingers into his hair as you pulled him down on top of you. “It was very hard,” you confirmed, then pulled him into another kiss. 

-

The next morning, after spending the rest of the night tasting and touching each other, you fell asleep in his arms. 

It was one of the best sleeps Ray has gotten in a while, and he knew it was all because of you. 

You were finally letting him in, letting him help you. You weren’t alone in this anymore. 

You’d woken up before him, that much was obvious when Ray woke up to the feeling of your soft lips on his, and your hands placed gently on his chest. “I love you too,” you said quietly, and the lazy smile that formed on his face was instantaneous. 

He was well aware that you hadn’t returned those words to him when he said them to you last night, and while he didn’t need you to, he just wanted you to know, there was no denying how happy he felt that you loved him too. 

His eyes opened slowly, expecting to have a rerun of last night before you had to go again, but when he tried to reach for you, he found one of his wrists tied to the headboard. By his own fucking tie. 

He tested how tight it was by pulling on it, only to find that it was extremely tight, because of course you knew how to tie someone up and keep them from getting out. “The fuck,” he muttered, looking over at you with narrowed eyes. “Untie me. Now.”

You gave him a miserable shrug as you moved out of his reach when he tried to grab you with the hand that wasn’t tied to his fucking headboard. “I can’t involve you in this, Ray. I guess I love you too much for that,” you said as you stood up, and you had already put your dress and boots back on while he was asleep. “It’s not your responsibility. It’s mine. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Ray let out an annoyed grunt as he pulled on the tie again, but it was still secure. “Goddamnit, don’t you dare fucking walk out that door,” he said when you took a step away from the bed. “There is nothing responsible about risking your life for a piece of shit who puts his fucking hands on you. Do you hear me? Don’t you even fucking think about leaving me like this.”

You took another step away, pressing your lips together. “I’m sorry-”

“I love you. You hear me? I love you, even though you fucking piss me off all the time. Like right now,” he cut you off, “Let me help you, love. I can help you, alright? Please. Don’t leave me like this. Don’t make me lose you.”

Your eyes teared up at that, and you cleared your throat as you looked away. “You can’t lose something you never truly had, Ray,” you said quietly, and somehow those words hurt more than anything else. “Thank you for last night. For everything.”

You reached down and grabbed his phone from off the floor, tossing it at him so it landed beside him on the bed. 

“Sorry, you’ll have to call Pearson to come help you out of that. I hope it’s not too embarrassing,” you teased, even now as you gave him a watery smile. “I’ll see you soon, Ray. Promise.”

Then you were turning around and heading for the door, each step you took making Ray’s chest clench more and more. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, leaving him lying there, still completely naked with just the sheets pulled up around his hips, and his wrist tied to the headboard. 

He should’ve known you’d never actually let him in all the way, or let him take care of you. You’d always been independent, stubborn as fuck, and too proud to ever let someone help you even when you so clearly need it. 

“Not too embarrassing,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he reached for his phone. Of course this was going to be fucking embarrasing, and this won’t look good to Pearson - his best man being tied to his own bed after spending the night with the woman he’d warned Ray about each time you were brought up. Even his boss could see how much you meant to Ray, and while he usually encouraged him to keep things close that make him happy, he still wanted him to be wary of you. “Bloody hell.”

He slumped back against the pillows and let out a laugh of disbelief, not at the fact that you’d pulled this little stunt, but at the fact that, despite you taking Ray’s pride and ego with you, he still loves you.

-

First Ray fic, wooo, feels good. Thank you for reading x

It’d been a long day, one full of chasing after men Pearson had told Ray were a liability, and he was required to put them down in case they were to expose anything about the… business Pearson has been running all over London. 

He’d gotten his hands bloody, had to chase off a bunch of men who’d witnessed it, and destroy any and all evidence that he’d done anything to begin with. 

It was late when he got home, nearing midnight when he finally walked through the door. He was done with everything, his back aching a bit as he shrugged out of his jacket, and he didn’t even bother to take off his shoes by the door - instead heading straight towards the kitchen, where a beer was calling his name. 

It wasn’t often Ray drank beer, but today was exhausting, and he needed something to relax him and take the edge off, and he didn’t feel like smoking right now. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle, tossing the cap into the recycle bin once he’d taken it off. 

But he didn’t get the chance to take a sip before he heard the sound of one of the floorboards in the den creaking - something he’d been meaning to fix since the noise was starting to drive him up the wall every time he walked in that area, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. 

Someone was in his house. 

Ray paused instantly, the beer bottle quickly forgotten on the counter as he grabbed his gun that had been tucked away in his slacks. He lifted it and aimed it as he took a step towards the den, then another, his eyes expertly scanning each room and doorway he passed as he crept closer. Each step was measured and careful, allowing him to get the jump on whoever was here if he needed to. 

He reached the den, his eyes squinting as he pointed the gun at the dark corner, knowing that was the only place to hide in the open space of the room. Ray locked his jaw, not appreciating the fact that some fucker had decided to choose tonight to break into his house when he’s already had a long day. 

“Who is that?” he asked, his voice deadly and calm, his posture damn near perfect and lethal. 

Then he heard the sound of heels, and he straightened up a bit. And then he saw a face he hadn’t seen in months. 

You stepped out of the shadows, clad in heeled boots, a form fitting black dress, a long coat and red gloss on your lips. Your own gun was raised, pointed at him as his was at you, and Ray saw that you had a faint bruise under your eye that was half-healed and faded. 

A smile formed on your lips as you kept your gun pointed at him, and he recalled a conversation you and he had a year ago after he’d finished fucking you into the next week - you’d been trained to never be the first one to put the gun down. 

“Ouch,” you said, your voice low and teasing as you took another step towards him. You pouted at him, lifting a brow as your eyes flickered from his to his gun, a knowing look on your face. “This doesn’t feel like a very warm welcome, baby.” you observed, poking at your inner cheek with your tongue. 

Ray’s eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down. Fuck, you looked good. Too good. 

That dress hugged every inch of you, and those boots made him want to bury his face between your legs, preferably keeping them on while he got you off with his tongue. 

He lowered his gun first, also well aware that he should never be the first one to do that, but as he held your gaze, he knew he had nothing to worry about. 

“A warm welcome? After breaking into my house like some fucking thief?” he asked, tucking his gun into the waistband of his slacks as he closed the rest of the distance between you and him. He lifted his hand, tilting your face up slightly as he looked at the bruise marring your skin. “What happened here?” he asked, his other hand grabbing onto your hip with a certain possessiveness he’d never felt before he met you. 

It was obvious you’d gotten into it with someone, though this seemed to be the only injury, so it hadn’t escalated too much. Still, someone put their hands on you, and that didn’t sit well with Ray, even though he knows how dangerous your job and life are. 

You lowered your own gun, tucking it into the deep pocket on the inside of your coat as you looked up at him. “Business transaction gone wrong,” you answered, vague and blunt, as if you were talking to anyone other than a man you trusted completely. You lifted a shoulder in a shrug, clearly trying to brush it off even though he could tell the bruise had been a few shades darker only a couple days ago. “I failed to meet a quota last week. Boss wasn’t very happy with me. But it looked worse before. Trust me, this is nothing.”

Ray’s jaw locked once more, a muscle twitching in his cheek as his thumb gently moved along your wounded skin. “I should pay your boss a quick visit. Teach him what happens when he touches things that aren’t his to touch,” he thought out loud, “Should’ve called me. I would’ve handled that cunt for you.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a fond smile on your lips, one he knew was reserved for just him. “I can handle him myself, Ray,” 

He moved his hand upwards, tucking your hair behind your ear. “How long have you been here? In London?” he asked, wanting to shift the topic as quickly as possible since he didn’t like thinking about all the things you get up to whenever you and he part ways. 

“Couple hours,” you said, placing your palms flat against his chest. “I came straight here, then let myself in when I saw you were out. I wanted to surprise you but that stupid floorboard gave me away. Oh, and I don’t think it counts as breaking in if I have a key.” you added, reaching for the thin chain around your neck and lifting it up, showing him the key that was attached to it. 

He’d given it to you a while ago, and told you that if you ever found yourself in trouble, if you ever needed to hide or if you needed anything at all, you could come here. 

“Yeah, been meaning to fix that,” Ray leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours as he breathed you in, your familiar scent he’d missed so much grounding him in a way nothing else ever had. “How long do we have this time, love?” he asked quietly, his hands moving down to your hips. “Tell me you’ll stay longer than a night. Tell me you’ll stay for two.”

Your shoulders dropped at that, your hands coming up to grab onto his cardigan. “I can’t tell you that,” you whispered, your fingers twisting the fabric as you pressed your forehead more firmly against his. “But we have tonight, right? And tomorrow morning…” you offered, pulling back to look up at him as one hand lifted to caress his cheek. 

Ray sighed, exhaling through his nose as his fingers dug gently into your hips. One night. That was all he ever got to have with you for as long as he’s known you, with the exception of the weekend you and he spent together when you first met. If he’d known that those two days would be the longest he’d spend with you at a time in the future, he would’ve made the most of it a lot more than he already had. 

But he was greedy, and even though he wanted longer with you, he’d take whatever time he could get with you. “Yes. We have tonight,” he agreed, “And I plan to make the most of every second of it.”

His hands moved down to your thighs, and he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist like second nature as he turned and carried you towards the bedroom. The same routine he’d done with you for the last couple years now, and one he always hoped to continue doing in the future every time you and he have to part ways. 

“I have a feeling that I need to remind you who makes you feel so good,” he murmured, wondering if there will ever be a day where he can confidently say that you are all his, and that no other man has been with you after him. 

You’d implied in the past that your life is too chaotic for a real relationship, and hookups were a lot easier to handle, and he didn’t like to think that was all he was to you. But you’d also implied that you hadn’t been with anyone since meeting him, and he was too afraid of what you might say if he were to ask you - just to confirm it. 

Ray’s grip on you tightened as he carried you down the hall, your soft laugh filling his ears. “You act like I’ll ever be able to forget you,” you teased, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you leaned in and brushed your lips against his ear. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re kind of hard to forget, Ray. Like, impossible, actually.”

He let out a short laugh as he entered his room, not bothering to turn on a light as he set you down on the edge of the bed - king sized, fit for a king. Or so you’ve told him in the past. “Good. ‘Cause you’re branded on me, love. Couldn’t forget you if I tried to,” he said, leaving out the parts where he almost tried to, because he couldn’t fathom that you’d managed to capture him so entirely. 

He took a step back, shrugging off his cardigan and letting it drop to the floor before he was unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze never leaving yours. He could see the way your shoulders rose with every shaky breath you took, trying to come off as if you weren’t as desperate for this as he is. 

“You’re like a drug I can’t quit,” he muttered as his shirt fell to the floor as well, almost annoyed at having his heart belong to you in full. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could see you more than a handful of times a year, if that, but he belonged to a woman he didn’t even know the location of most of the time. “Tell me you feel it too. I’m not alone in this.”

Your eyes flickered down to his chest, and you swallowed harshly before looking back up at him. “You know I do,” you murmured, lifting your hands and placing them on his abs as he towered over you. You leaned in, brushing your lips against his stomach and leaving behind a glossy red stain. Your eyes fluttered shut as you peppered kisses along his skin, breathing him in and leaving him no choice but to believe your words. “I do…”

Ray tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back gently so you were holding his gaze again. “Then prove it,” he challenged, his other hand coming up as well to hook his fingers under your chin. 

He dipped his head down just as you leaned up, your lips connecting in a deep kiss that you had both been waiting for since you saw each other again. His tongue slipped into your mouth as you moaned, and his hands grabbed onto your coat and slid it down your shoulders, letting the heavy fabric hit the ground gently, the muffled thud of the gun barely audible. 

You grabbed onto his face, kissing him harder as you moved further back on the bed, laying down properly. Ray grunted into your mouth as he followed you down, settling between your thighs as he caged you in with his arms. 

He broke the kiss, letting you get some air as he pressed kisses down your jaw and throat, his teeth dragging along your skin. Your dress rode up a bit, letting him feel the heat between your thighs as he pressed himself against you. “Mm, you’re dripping, aren’t you?” he mumbled, grinding his hips against yours as his hands pushed your dress up further, his palms smoothing over your thighs. “Gonna let me taste you? Been too long since I’ve had your sweet pussy.”

You let out a needy moan, biting down on your glossy lip. It was smeared and messy from the kiss, and yet you still looked fucking perfect as you ran your hands up and down his arms. “You know I’d never say no to that,” 

The corners of Ray’s lips turned upwards at that, and he hooked his fingers in the waistline of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aside. At the sight of your bare core, he hummed in appreciation as he pushed your thighs further apart, making his way down your body. “She’s just as pretty as I remember,” he observed, and you let out a laugh. 

“You act like it’s been years. It’s only been, like, five months,”

“Six and a half,” Ray corrected, looking up at you briefly before he guided your legs over his broad shoulders, his eyes level with one of his favorite parts of you. “And that’s a long fucking time, love.”

And it really was. This has been the longest time you and he have gone without seeing each other in the nearly four years you’ve known each other. 

You opened your mouth to shoot another snarky reply his way, but he effectively shut you right up as he ducked his head down, his tongue parting your folds and collecting your wetness like he’d been deprived of it. 

His eyes shut for a few seconds as he tasted you on his tongue, and he had been fucking deprived of this. It’s his favorite taste and he only gets it every once in a very long while, for fucks sake. 

At your soft moan, he buried his face in your pussy, his lips wrapping around your clit and drawing it into his mouth. Your body jolted as soon as he gave it a gentle suck, your head tipping back on the bed and once again fully igniting the fire that had been burning inside him since the night you met. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, spreading your thighs more and opening yourself up completely to him. Your hands reached down and tangled in his hair, your fingers creating a mess of it that he’d only ever allow you to get away with making. A quiet, needy laugh left your lips as you bucked your hips against his face, “So good.”

Ray grunted against your core as he grabbed hold of your hips, holding you still as he flicked your clit with his tongue. He licked along your folds, drinking you in like a man starved for you, and he didn’t even care that he was exactly that. A man unbelievably starved for a woman he feared he’d never be able to truly have. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” he praised, uncaring about the mess your slick was making on his face and your inner thighs. His distaste for that went out the window every time he’s with you. “Could eat this sweet cunt for hours. Keep you right there ‘til you’re begging me to let you cum.” 

You whined at that, rolling your hips against his hands as you shook your head. “You wouldn’t dare,” you said, tugging harder at his hair. “You love making me cum, Ray. I know you do, you’ve said it to me before. Pretty sure you were pussy drunk, but the point still stands.”

He couldn’t even deny that, because it was true. He rather enjoyed getting you off far more than making you wait for it, especially after you both had been waiting for this for way too long now. 

Letting out a deep laugh against you, he pulled back just slightly to look up at you through the increasingly fogging lenses of his glasses. “Pussy drunk on the finest cunt in London,” he agreed, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “And I just know what I want, and right now I want to feel you cum on my tongue.”

You whined loudly, your eyes shutting as you arched your back, your breasts nearly spilling free from the top of your dress. “Fuck,” you whimpered, all but yanking on his hair now and pulling him close until his face was buried against you once more. “God, yes.” 

Ray sucked on your clit again, sliding two thick fingers inside you and stretching you out. “That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice deeper than before as he flicked his tongue over your clit quickly, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. “Gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Can feel how close you are for me, baby.” 

A soft moan left your mouth, the sound filling his room that seemed to have come back to life now that you and he had reunited again. “Oh, fuck. Yes, Ray. Fuck yes, I’m coming,” you gasped, your nails scratching at his scalp as your thighs tried closing around his head. He felt the way you coated his fingers, your warmth washing over him as he dipped his head down and collected some of it with his tongue. 

Ray groaned against you, working you through it as he watched your face for every reaction he coaxed out of you. Once you stopped shaking, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth to suck clean, a muffled groan vibrating against his digits. 

He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he tangled one hand in your hair, angling your head so he could kiss you even deeper. “Missed you,” he muttered against your mouth, his hips pressing against yours. 

You moaned softly, looking up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. “Missed you,” you said back, the two of you having agreed to not say much more than that whenever you found yourselves in this exact situation. It was supposed to make it easier, but the longer this went on, the harder it became. 

Ray sat back on his knees, his hands sliding down your legs until his fingers brushed along the tops of your boots. One by one he unzipped them and let them thump gently on the floor, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so, the sight of you sprawled out on his bed one he hopes stays branded in his mind forever. 

“Been so long since I’ve been fucked,” you confessed, pulling him back down and reaching for the zipper on his slacks. “Since the last time I was here with you.” 

He liked that you added that, because you’d been his last time too, and the thought of you with another man made his blood boil. 

You pushed down his slacks and boxers, and he kicked them off, as well as his shoes, before crawling up your body again. His hand slid under your back, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress, and he tugged it down before guiding the tight fabric off your body. 

“Been so hard for you. Needed you so bad,” he confessed back, settling between your thighs once again, his heavy cock pressing against your slick folds. 

He reached down and guided himself inside you, the lack of condom all too familiar since you and he had never used one. He probably should, seeing how you and he aren’t officially together, but he knew he was clean, and he trusted you are as well. 

It also made him feel closer to you, but that was a bit too much to admit to right now.

“So goddamn tight. Couldn’t forget how perfect you feel even if I wanted to,” he muttered, one hand sliding under your back while the other tangled in your hair. He gave you a moment to adjust, your walls just as tight as he remembered, then started to thrust into you with deep, steady strokes. 

Ray leaned in and kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans as he rocked his hips against yours, making love to you in a way he hoped came off as just sex, because he knew that was all this could be for now and possibly forever. 

Your moan was muffled against his mouth, your hands coming up to grab onto the sides of his face. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back and trying to pull him closer. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “Feels so fucking good. God, baby, needed this so bad.”

Ray grunted as your heels dug into his back, his grip on you tightening as he angled his hips to reach the sweet spot deep inside of you. “You take me so well. Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he rasped, his hands sliding down to grab onto your ass. He dipped his head down and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, your soft skin pressing against his face with every thrust. 

Your body jolted against his as he increased both the pace and force of his hips, but his grip on you kept you flush against his chest. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tugged on his hair, pulling his mouth back up to yours for a deep, messy kiss that was all teeth and tongue. 

With every roll of his hips, the headboard hit the wall over and over again, the creaking of the bed mixing in seamlessly with yours and his sounds. “Feels fucking perfect, love,” he muttered against your lips, swallowing your moans with every deep kiss. 

You kept your mouth attached to his as you grabbed onto his shoulders, pushing up against him and rolling over so he was on his back and you’re on top of him. “Feels so fucking good,” you groaned, clearly needing his as badly as he did. Your hips rolled against his as you braced your hands on his chest, your eyes hooded and your lips parted. You rode him like your life depended on it, every grind of your body making him feel more and more feral for you. 

“Fuck, just like that. Ride me, baby,” he grunted, grabbing onto your hips with a tight grip. The new position made him feel impossibly deeper inside you, reaching parts no other man ever had before. His fingers dug into your ass, his eyes flickering down to where you and he are connected, and he watched through foggy lenses as your tight pussy gripped his cock like a second skin, his entire length glistening with your arousal. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Gonna… fuck, gonna cum soon. Wanna feel you cum with me.”

One hand moved around to your front, and he used his thumb to rub your clit, wanting to feel you let go first. You cried out helplessly, your body moving on autopilot as your nails dug into the dips of his abs. “Yes, fuck yes. Yes yes yes,” you slurred, grinding against him as you clenched around him tightly. You came with a choked moan, your body stuttering on top of his as you fell apart for him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, cum on my cock,” he murmured, taking it upon himself to give a few more deep thrusts before he was there too. He filled you up, white ropes marking you as his from the inside out, his hands planted firmly on your ass. “Fuck…” he panted, his chest heaving with uneven breaths as he wrapped one hand around the back of your head and pulled you down for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. 

You and he kissed for a long moment after that, Ray’s hands moving up and down your slick back as you both came down from the most overwhelming highs you’d had in months. A soft laugh left your mouth and entered his as you pulled away just a bit, your eyes flickering up to his. “I think you’re a bit fogged up there,” you teased, pushing at the bridge of his glasses. 

Ray let out a deep laugh that vibrated through his chest and into yours. “It’s bloody hot in here,” he muttered, nuzzling his face into your neck and breathing in your scent, hoping to brand it into his senses like he did every time. His hands ran up and down your back, committing every inch of you to memory once again since he refused to waste a second not touching you.

Moments like this were precious, rare, and ones he cherished above all others, and he’d always savor every single second. After all, he never knew when he’d see you next, or if this was the last time. 

He took off his glasses and set them aside, still able to see you through the blurriness in his eyes. He looked down at you with a small, genuine grin on his lips as he lifted a hand and smoothed out your hair. “I have something for you,” he said, then reached over to the nightstand and picked up the joint he’d rolled the previous night but didn’t get around to smoking. “It’s quite fresh still. Rolled it last night.”

You took it from his fingers with a soft gasp, as if he’d just presented you with the best gift you could ever ask for. “I’ve missed your joints,” you groaned, leaning in and pressing a series of kisses to his cheek. “I almost want to save it. Take it with me and light it when I start to miss you.”

Ray hummed, wincing as you finally lifted yourself off him and reached over to set the joint down with more care than needed on the other nightstand that was closer to you. He pulled you back into his arms and cradled you against his chest, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head. “You won’t miss me as soon as you leave again?” he asked, unable to stop the accusing tone from bleeding into his words, but he hated not having you around, and he hated never knowing where you were unless you were right in front of him. “‘Cause I know I’ll fucking miss you. I miss you every time you leave. Do you not miss me as much?”

You propped your chin up on his chest, your eyes soft and your expression sweet - two things he knew were reserved for him. “You know I do,” you whispered, running your fingers along his jaw. “Every single time I go. It’s not easy for me, Ray. It’s actually really fucking hard.”

Ray’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, and he cradled the back of your head in his hand. He hated the thought of you out there, putting yourself in danger because of your job. It never failed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and it fueled the growing need he felt to do something to get you away from that lifestyle. To keep you safe. 

“I know, love. I know it’s not easy. I know,” he said, gently tangling his fingers in your hair. “It kills me every time you leave. I hate… not knowing if you’re alright.”

You gave him a small smile. “You know I’m always careful, Ray,” you said, “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He wanted to say that he’ll always worry about you, but he bit his tongue, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he nodded. “Right,” he agreed, pressing his forehead against yours. “We’ll just make the most of the time we have, like we always do. But promise me something, yeah? Promise that you’ll always find your way back to me. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. I’ll always want you.”

Your smile faded a bit at that, and you pressed your cheek against his chest. “I’m here now, right? I don’t think I could ever stop coming back to you. You’re the one thing keeping me sane, Ray,” you mumbled, pressing your palm flat against his abs. “I’m still here… even though I should be out there trying to make up the money I failed to deliver to my boss. He’s still expecting twenty grand by the end of the week. But I’m already fucked, so why not pop in and actually get fucked by you?”

Your voice held a hint of teasing in it, but he could feel the way you’d become a little on edge, and Ray also tensed up at your words. “Twenty grand? By the end of this week? The hell have you gotten yourself into?” he asked, sitting up slightly and looking down at you. 

You just shook your head, trying to shrug the conversation off. “It’s just my job, Ray,” 

But he wasn’t having any of that as he ran a hand down his face. “Look, I can help with the money, okay? It’s not a problem, just tell me how to do it without drawing… unnecessary attention,” he said, knowing he had that kind of money handy to him - the perks of being close with his boss. 

You let out a huff of air as you rolled onto your back and looked up at the ceiling, reaching up to play with the chain around your neck. “It’s because I missed the quota. He’s… really fucking stingy with that kind of thing, hence the… you know,” you gestured to your eye, and his own dropped down to the bruise again. “I was short two grand and he tripled the original price, made it twenty. But I’ll figure it out, Ray. I don’t… I won’t take your money.”

Ray let out a scoff at that, an anger beginning to build up inside him. Your boss fucking hit you, and probably did worse than that, more than once. The thought had his jaw locking. “He hit you because of two grand? That fucking cunt hit you because-” he had to hold off on saying what he wanted to say, because as much as he wanted to go off on your boss, it wouldn’t help right now. “Listen to me, you helped me out of a tight spot once, it’s about time I returned the favor, yeah?”

“Ray-”

“Don’t. Don’t give me that shit about not taking my money, alright? I think we’re way past that, love. I’m not letting you deal with this shit alone. No fucking way is that happening,” he said, cradling your jaw in his hand and turning your head so you were looking at him again. He leaned in and pressed a hard kiss to your lips before pulling back again. “I’m not offering out of pity or because I feel obligated to. I’m telling you to let me help you because I love you, you stubborn woman.”

Your breath hitched at that, and your eyes visibly widened, and he knew why. He’d never said that to you, that he loves you, but he does, and he has for a long time now. He just held the words back in hopes he could save them for when you came back to him for the last time, and you and he could finally be together, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying them now. 

He loves you, and he wants, needs, to help you out of a situation that would no doubt just get worse if you couldn’t find a way to get that money by yourself. You protect him, and he protects you. That’s the way it’s always been. 

You raised a hand and cupped his cheek, your head shaking slowly. “I’m not your responsibility, Ray. You have no reason to help me or take care of this for me. It’s all on me. I did this to myself,” 

Ray shook his head right back, his gaze intense as he held your stare. “Did no one ever tell you that you can ask for help when you need it? You’re not some burden, baby. What happens to you affects me, that’s how it’s always been,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “Let me do this for you, love. Please.”

You furrowed your brows, and it was obvious you were having an inner debate with yourself, and he didn’t know what side would win, but he was more than prepared to convince you more if he needed to. 

But you just gave him a defeated smile and nod as you tugged him down into a firm kiss. 

Ray melted into you, kissing you back as he pulled your body flush against his. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, “Was that so hard?”

You nodded again, sliding your fingers into his hair as you pulled him down on top of you. “It was very hard,” you confirmed, then pulled him into another kiss. 

-

The next morning, after spending the rest of the night tasting and touching each other, you fell asleep in his arms. 

It was one of the best sleeps Ray has gotten in a while, and he knew it was all because of you. 

You were finally letting him in, letting him help you. You weren’t alone in this anymore. 

You’d woken up before him, that much was obvious when Ray woke up to the feeling of your soft lips on his, and your hands placed gently on his chest. “I love you too,” you said quietly, and the lazy smile that formed on his face was instantaneous. 

He was well aware that you hadn’t returned those words to him when he said them to you last night, and while he didn’t need you to, he just wanted you to know, there was no denying how happy he felt that you loved him too. 

His eyes opened slowly, expecting to have a rerun of last night before you had to go again, but when he tried to reach for you, he found one of his wrists tied to the headboard. By his own fucking tie. 

He tested how tight it was by pulling on it, only to find that it was extremely tight, because of course you knew how to tie someone up and keep them from getting out. “The fuck,” he muttered, looking over at you with narrowed eyes. “Untie me. Now.”

You gave him a miserable shrug as you moved out of his reach when he tried to grab you with the hand that wasn’t tied to his fucking headboard. “I can’t involve you in this, Ray. I guess I love you too much for that,” you said as you stood up, and you had already put your dress and boots back on while he was asleep. “It’s not your responsibility. It’s mine. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Ray let out an annoyed grunt as he pulled on the tie again, but it was still secure. “Goddamnit, don’t you dare fucking walk out that door,” he said when you took a step away from the bed. “There is nothing responsible about risking your life for a piece of shit who puts his fucking hands on you. Do you hear me? Don’t you even fucking think about leaving me like this.”

You took another step away, pressing your lips together. “I’m sorry-”

“I love you. You hear me? I love you, even though you fucking piss me off all the time. Like right now,” he cut you off, “Let me help you, love. I can help you, alright? Please. Don’t leave me like this. Don’t make me lose you.”

Your eyes teared up at that, and you cleared your throat as you looked away. “You can’t lose something you never truly had, Ray,” you said quietly, and somehow those words hurt more than anything else. “Thank you for last night. For everything.”

You reached down and grabbed his phone from off the floor, tossing it at him so it landed beside him on the bed. 

“Sorry, you’ll have to call Pearson to come help you out of that. I hope it’s not too embarrassing,” you teased, even now as you gave him a watery smile. “I’ll see you soon, Ray. Promise.”

Then you were turning around and heading for the door, each step you took making Ray’s chest clench more and more. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, leaving him lying there, still completely naked with just the sheets pulled up around his hips, and his wrist tied to the headboard. 

He should’ve known you’d never actually let him in all the way, or let him take care of you. You’d always been independent, stubborn as fuck, and too proud to ever let someone help you even when you so clearly need it. 

“Not too embarrassing,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he reached for his phone. Of course this was going to be fucking embarrasing, and this won’t look good to Pearson - his best man being tied to his own bed after spending the night with the woman he’d warned Ray about each time you were brought up. Even his boss could see how much you meant to Ray, and while he usually encouraged him to keep things close that make him happy, he still wanted him to be wary of you. “Bloody hell.”

He slumped back against the pillows and let out a laugh of disbelief, not at the fact that you’d pulled this little stunt, but at the fact that, despite you taking Ray’s pride and ego with you, he still loves you.

-

First Ray fic, wooo, feels good. Thank you for reading x