#frickingmogar

It wasn’t that Ray disliked fairs, he found them to be an awful lot of fun in fact, there was a certain rush in winning toys for his friends (and, sometimes, for himself, though those times were rare, as he found most prizes to be quite pointless), eating overpriced food (corn dogs were where it was at), getting ripped off at (undoubtedly) rigged games, riding too-small carousels made for children, just the whole fair experience. That usually included actually participating however. Which Ray was not.

In the back of his head he realised it was his own fault, having pissed off his mother for her to have signed him up for “life experience”. Ray called it “why did you do that, you stupid piece of shit experience” in his head. He didn’t even have an explanation for why he did what he did, an idea just popped into his head and next thing he knew his couch was on fire.

So, yeah, Ray didn’t call it unfair in any way, he deserved all the punishment in the world (his mother had looked so worried, hair getting in her eyes, they looked faintly misty but Ray didn't dwell on it, not wanting to feel even more guilty, asking him what would have happened if she wasn’t there to control the fire, how she’d live without him and Ray, do you ever think about the consequences of your actions?, Ray felt like the worst person in the world).

The fair was fairly small, considering it was in New York (and NYC was known for being flashy, though not quite in the same way Las Vegas was) anyway, and Ray had yet to meet anyone not working at the fair, even his boothmate, a woman in her mid-twenties with the name of Barbara, was clueless as to why it was so empty. That was until she realised that they were on the most remote part of the fair, it would be unlikely they would get much money or customers, which meant that, if they didn't stray far or take too long, they could take shifts to check out the fair they wouldn't see otherwise.

She was kind enough to let Ray have first watch, which, of course, meant that Ray was totally alone when a fair-goer came by, second customer of the day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Ray didn’t really have time to check out their appearance, considering that he was internally freaking out about the fact that he was missing his partner, what if-

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice (not overly familiar but Ray had heard it enough to know just who it was) laughed, not mockingly but not kindly either (a mix Ray had discovered didn’t exactly explain the other but was better than most descriptions of him, knowing his reputation).

Ray shared a few classes with Michael Jones (Mathematics, English and Biology), he hadn’t even talked with the guy one-on-one since fifth grade (Michael had asked for a pencil and Ray had smiled at him, handing him the object, kind of melting at the returning beam. Oddest week-long crush Ray’d ever had.), they always had a buffer between them in group projects (Gavin, a British transfer from Great Britain with a strange fascination with dynamite and anything that blew up, in Biology, Geoff, a boy with a constant sleepy aura and a flask of something that was definitely not water around him more often than not, something the teachers didn’t bring up ever, as he was the best student in most, if not all, of his classes, in Mathematics, which rarely had group projects, and Ryan, a boy with a strange grin and stranger humour, though Ray appreciated it, he rarely found people with humour alike his, in English).

“Yeah, well, at least it’s not a strip club,” Ray joked, grin beginning to form already (because that’s what he always did when nervous, he joked and grinned and tried to act like he wasn’t anxious at all, he fooled more other people than he did himself with the method though, which was a shame). His and Barbara’s booth wasn’t the only kissing booth at the fair, just the most remote. Every booth had two people running it, one overage and one underage (mostly so the fair didn’t have to deal with claims of pedofila) and that day was Ray’s last (and only) day of volunteer work at the fair.

“Dude, you’re not really allowed to compare yourself to a stripper, they have standards,” Michael laughed again and Ray wondered how the older dealt with unease.

“Well,” Ray paused, “yeah, true.”

Michael leaned forward, leaning against the booth (which must have looked ridiculous because Michael was a fair distance away, his elbows barely reaching the edge of the booth), and Ray smiled at Michael, who just watched him (with his shorts, chequered Vans, which, to be fair, Michael didn’t see, and a red dress shirt the fair made him wear, a logo sewed on Ray’s left breast he had tried to understand before but couldn't, he must have looked out of place as fuck) looking more amused than anything before he asked, “If I pay over, can I get a full make-out session?”

A part of Ray, the part that had had a crush on Michael Jones in fifth, sixth, seventh grade (okay, so he lied, it wasn’t a week-long crush, it was a three-year long crush) wanted to reply with a “for you it’s free”, the other part, the majority of him, the fucking rational part of him answered with a “nah, if you come back with Gavin though, we’ll see”. Well, maybe not so rational.

Michael looked almost disappointed before he laughed again and slapped two dollars on the table, making grabby hands towards Ray’s face (which looked absurd as his elbows were still barely on the edge of the booth and he was basically just wiggling his fingers in circles), something Ray found himself rolling his eyes over.

“Come here,” the younger muttered, leaning forwards until Michael’s face was so close to his own that he could smell the cotton candy Michael must have eaten before (pink? it smelled like the pink option the fair had), could just imagine how Michael’s lips must taste (a mix of cotton candy and mint, he thought, Michael was always chewing mint pastilles), just before he could lean in fully though, Michael had already done so, just a quick press of lips that Ray didn’t remember anything from, not even how much pressure the other had used.

(Ray wondered if he was supposed to feel so disappointed as he watched Michael walk away.)

.

Barbara arrived back not too long after Michael left, a spring in her step as she gave him an extra paper baton with cotton candy wrapped around it for “keeping down the fort”. Ray wondered if she’d ask if they had any visitors but she never did and Ray understood why, they weren’t exactly the most popular or in the best location.

When she asked if he’d prefer to walk around as well, Ray found himself agreeing, half because, well, fair, the other because, he was slightly ashamed to admit this, even to himself, he might see Michael around.

(Maybe, just maybe, he lied twice in a row and he’d never quite gotten over his crush. That was however slightly wrong, he had fallen out and into his crush so many times he’d lost count. It was as if just as he’d gotten over the stupid feelings, just as his heart rate slowed down when Michael was in his presence, the asshole did something that made Ray like him again.)

It wasn’t until he had moved towards the centre of the fair that he realised just how much louder and crowded it was (he frowned, wet his lips, decided it was too much social interaction and, fucking shit, did someone just grope him?). He sighed, starting to walk back towards the booth. Fairs weren’t much fun without friends anyway.

“You look down,” a voice commented from, wait, above Ray? He looked in that direction and, sure enough, Michael fucking Jones was sitting on a branch. As in, in a tree. Above ground.

“Well, I looked up, what’s my punishment?” Ray laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, just the whole day had been ridiculous. He’d set fire to his couch, ‘volunteered’ to work at a kissing booth, talked face-to-face with Michael Jones for the first time in years, ‘kissed’ said asshole, met him in a tree, everything was just ludicrous.

Ray wondered when he’d wake up.

“Your punishment is,” Michael paused, stroking his chin dramatically, “joining me!”

“In the tree?”

“No, in the afterlife. What do you think?”

Ray looked at the tree nervously, noting just how high up Michael was (which was not a lot at all actually but still, physical exercise didn’t mix well with Ray), “I don’t-”

However, thing was, Ray had the hugest, most pathetic, fucking crush on Michael Jones, had for years, so having the object of his affections full attention on him (and only him) made him just deranged enough to try. Fuck, the things he did for his own stupid affections. Michael’s fucking grin brightened when he realised Ray moved towards the tree.

Stupid assholes and their attractive faces, Ray grumbled, placing his left hand on the closest branch, which was only slightly above his head and felt rough to touch (he was going to get blisters, it was awful to hold a controller when his hands felt like dying).

It was only when he got that far that Ray realised, holy shit, how were trees climbed? It wasn’t like it was on fuckin’ Discovery Channel, nor did video games portray it in a way that Ray would learn it.

Michael seemed to have caught on, from the way he started laughing suddenly and loudly (again, not truly viciously but not kindly either), his grin still too enchanting to be real, and was it just Ray or was Michael, may heaven have mercy on Ray’s soul, giggling?

"Okay, dude, let me just," Michael continued sniggering, "like, help you up or something." He seemed delighted (by the situation? By an amusing joke he made in his head? By Ray’s ineptitude? Yeah, okay, probably the last one) he dropped his hand down, the stupid grin still on his face. Ray frowned but otherwise didn't complain, glancing helplessly at the tree trunk and Michael's hand, wondering if there was a certain rule about how to he had to go about it.

Because seriously, how do you climb a tree? Films never made it seem like such a big deal, just a quick push... something (push up? Or was there a special name for it?) and suddenly you were up a tree. Fucking movies. Fucking script writers. Not making their films educational in the ways that mattered.

And, the thing was, later Ray wouldn't even be able to explain how he got up the tree, it was just like having a black hole for a memory, but somehow Michael managed to hoist him up (how was Ray getting down-).

"So," Michael started, pausing for a second and not looking in Ray's direction, "will I often have to come to this fair just to get a kiss from you? Or could I get non-fair kisses?" He appeared to be joking, though Ray honestly couldn't distinguish between anything anymore (and it just so happened that the reason why Michael was paying him so much attention was just one of the things baffling him) and Ray had to bite down laughter when his answer of  “depends on how much you pay really” was met with a blush and a smirk.

Michael had always been cute (he had dimples, for fuck’s sake) and very, very attractive, Ray had admitted that long ago, but, holy fuck, if he continued with that attitude Ray was going to just lean over and kiss him just because he wasn’t able to help himself. Wasn’t good for long hidden crushes.

“I could think of a few, purely hypothetical, of course, situations that I’d be okay with that in,” Michael laughed, “like, you know, always.”

That was strangely smooth, Ray mused as Michael seemingly refused to look at Ray (not out of shyness, that Ray knew, his smirk was so big it practically covered his whole face), something that made Ray roll his eyes.

Did he have to do everything around here?

Michael froze the moment Ray’s hand tangled in his hair, intent on pulling the former towards his face, and such, his lips. Ray wanted to ask Michael if the older was fine, if he should continue, if Michael really wanted to kiss him again, he didn’t get that far however, as Michael had already closed the distance between them and was holding onto Ray’s shirt’s collar tightly and, holy shit, Michael had the most chapped lips in history and they were colder than Ray’s but it was perfect. Or, well, as perfect as a first kiss could be.

Michael had a heavy head, that (considering everything, very light and unintentional) headbutt hurt. But then Michael breathed out a long, drawn-out “fuuuuck” into Ray’s mouth and, yep, he didn't even care. Everything was perfect.

It appeared that they both got too distracted however, just lost in each other’s touch, as the next time Michael uttered a “fuck”, he almost fell off the tree, balance having been thrown off when he tried to get a better angle to kiss Ray, forgetting that they were, you know, still sitting in a tree.

“This is surely something,” Michael sighed, legs wrapped around the branch they both sat on, not in the same way however, as Michael sat upside down, head pointed towards the ground while Ray sat, back against the trunk, legs dangling on the right side of the branch, laughing, “yeah, laugh all you want, asshole, I’m not helping you down later if you do though.”

Ray continued laughing, mostly because he recognised an empty threat when he heard one, and a little because he wasn’t quite certain what else to do.

(Later, when Ray was moving back towards his booth, after Michael had gotten him down safely and a kiss on the cheek as a reward, Ray found four dollars inside his pocket with a note.

Didn’t want to lose my chances at getting to kiss you again. ;)

-Michael)

.

“I’d fuck Goofy because that ass, right? Kill Mickey Mouse, never trusted him and his ears, and marry Donald Duck.” Ray hated playing Fuck, Marry, Kill with Barbara.

She’d became Ray’s friend quite quickly, with her awful puns (that he still kind of loved), even worse humour (he wasn’t one to talk) and relatively the same interests. Anyone who could hold a conversation with Ray about something other than video games deserved to be called a friend. So it was only logical that they joked around and talked for a long time, it wasn’t like they had anything better to do while they were on their shifts, they couldn't just always leave the other alone, they’d agreed that they could only leave so many times for non-potty related issues.

Ray wondered if he was supposed to feel mortified when he heard a voice from the distance laugh and laugh and laugh, barely gasping out “best time to come” before continuing with his laughter. Barbara looked smug enough that Ray started wondering if she planned that. Well, jokes on her, Ray had said much worse shit in front of Michael before. That probably wasn’t a good thing but fuck it. Who cares, right?

When Michael stopped laughing and came closer, blinking back tears of laughter, he finally seemed to realise that Ray wasn’t alone at the booth again. He squinted at the blonde before turning to Ray with a huge grin on his face, asking, “dude, were you hiding away the gorgeous blonde just to increase your chances of kissing me last time or somethin’?”

“Second to last,” Ray quietly reminded.

“Yeah, second to last,” Michael agreed easily, seemingly forgotten that their last kiss was, you know, in a fucking tree. Ray hadn't gotten over that. Ray hadn’t gotten over the fact that he still somehow got up the tree.

Barbara laughed and, when she told Michael that she “couldn’t kiss minors and couldn't break the rule even for him”, Ray wondered if she was acting or not (it was in their job description, Ray remembered, his temporary manager had said that if an adult tried to get him to kiss them to be strict but not harsh). She probably was, Ray remembered a round of Twenty Questions where she admitted to having a girlfriend (who was amazing, she’d said, with raven hair, the cutest smile and they lived together with their adorable puppy), but it didn’t get rid of the warmth (not the good kind, unfortunately) in his chest.

“Nah, didn’t come here to get a kiss from anyone other than the cute asshole with those stupid glasses,” Michael shrugged, Ray wondered if Michael had something out for his glasses, with the amount of times he mentioned them usually (or, god forbid, a kink, Ray might not be able to survive through that). The warmth lessened.

Barbara smiled, a look of realisation on her face as she turned towards Ray and, oh god, she was going to-

“You’re really forcing your boyfriend to pay to kiss you today?”

She did.

Ray ignored the quiet mutter from Michael (“dude, I wish”). “No,” was his only answer, not even bothering to elaborate and play her game. She still looked smug though (but sadder, like she knew that he wished for that to be true, but at the same time exasperated because he was missing something incredibly right in front of him).

The thing was, Ray wasn’t missing anything (well, he was probably missing a lot but not the thing she was exasperated by). Ray knew, maybe not from the start but quite much into today, that Michael was flirting with him, he’d to be completely obvious to miss it. (which he was not, video games had honed his sense of perception). But he didn’t know if Michael was playing with Ray’s emotions (which Ray thought wouldn’t be hard to figure out so he wouldn’t be that surprised if Michael knew of them) or if he honestly wanted to, not to get Ray’s hopes up just saying by it, date him.

“So you gonna do anythin’ or?” Ray questioned, to which Michael laughed (not quite nervously but not confidently either and Ray realised for the first time that they had an audience, watching them kiss) and moved closer to the booth again to, not placing his elbows on the edge like previously.

“Let’s do this shit,” Michael muttered, his hands rested on Ray’s cheeks, lightly pulling him forwards and the kiss was gentler than the last (no headbutts, only light scraping of teeth instead of fucking collisions), and when Ray’s tongue swiped over a cut on Michael’s lower lip, the latter fucking shuddered. Ray’s stomach was pressing against the table uncomfortably and he didn’t even care, who cared about anything other than Michael’s lips? Not Ray. Definitely not Ray.

Eventually they had to part though and Ray didn’t even care enough to move away from Michael (wanted to memorise the way Michael smiled like he couldn't stop, even when he was breathing heavily, the way his eyes traced over Ray’s features like he wanted to memorise it the same way Ray did, the way-), their foreheads rested against each other’s.

“Guess you guys took each other’s breaths away, huh?”

Ray kicked Barbara in the shins.

.

“Okay, Michael,” Ray sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you need to seriously stop.”

“Stop with what?” Michael smiled in what he must have thought was a charming way but made Ray just even more frustrated.

“You’ve come to this booth so many times I’m pretty certain by the end of the day we’ll have made the most money.”

“I haven’t come that often!”

“I stopped counting by the fifteenth time.”

Michael paused, “Yeah, okay, that is kinda excessive.”

“Glad you admit it,” Ray huffed, “I just,” he faltered, now or never, I guess, Ray thought. “if you wanted a date you could have just asked, dude.”

“But, I mean- what,” Michael blinked, looking honestly stumped before a whoop erupted from his lips and he, yeah, Ray was pretty much fucked (he was so fucking cute it was unreal), jumped, hands up in the air. Afterwards he leaned over the counter and pressed a quick peck against Ray’s lips again, eyes as bright as his grin, excited beyond belief.

“You’re a menace and bad for my health,” Ray sighed, own grin growing at Michael’s excitement.

“Yeah, well, you're a menace and bad for my wallet.”

Ray shrugged, “I could think of a few ways to help that view change.”