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schmericaMore post-WWII Ray/Gerard! I ... just really like this universe, I don't know. And I still have plenty of lyrics to steal from Gaslight Anthem's "Miles Davis and the Cool" for titles, so there's that..
Don't Wait Too Long To Come Home
by Pearl-o
Ray/Gerard, 1800 words. Sequel to Sway Sweet and Slow; still 1940s post-war AU, but less crossdressing this time, and more angst.
Much thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
impertinence for encouragement and looking this over.
*****
Ray forgot to set the alarm clock last night, before he fell asleep, but his body is still ahead of his brain, too perfectly tuned to the feel of Gerard's bed to forget himself, and he wakes up at dawn, just as the first weak rays of sunlight begin to shine through the small high window across the room.
Gerard doesn't stir as Ray slips out of the bed and dresses himself. He finds a comb on the dresser and leans over it, squinting into the dirty mirror as he tries to wrestle his hair into something like respectable shape. Gerard's left out some of his make-up here, a tube of lipstick and some eyeshadow, a pot of some sort of cream. Ray wonders a little where Gerard got it -- did he pinch it from the drugstore or a little cousin, or did he just go and buy it outright himself, brazening it out? It seems careless to leave it out, Ray thinks, and he sets the pieces carefully in the top drawer. He picks up the lingeries and women's clothing off the floor while he's at it, lays them gently inside Gerard's closet and closes the door.
He kisses Gerard's forehead before he goes, breathing in the scent of the two of them in Gerard's bed and listening to Gerard's even breaths. "Love you," he whispers, even though Gerard's still asleep and can't hear him, and then he leaves.
He can hear Mrs. Way up and about upstairs in the kitchen as he leaves. From the window of the sink there would be a clear view of him at the top of the outside stairs, leaving Gerard in the guilt of the early morning. She's never looked and caught him, though (or if she has, she's never said anything, never treated either of them a bit differently), and she doesn't now.
It's a few miles back to his own apartment, a long easy walk in the early morning sunshine. The warmth of the fall hasn't quite given way yet to the chill of winter, but it's coming closer; Ray keeps his hands tucked down in his pockets as he walks. He likes this time of the day, when almost nobody is up. He likes looking at the houses and the buildings, sitting peacefully, waiting for the people to fill them up with noise and action and excitement.
He passes the street that Frank and Jamia live on and feels a twinge of guilt. It's been a few weeks since he saw them, and that's his own fault, he thinks. They're busy all the time now, with the second baby just come, but Ray doesn't have any such excuse for neglecting them. He'll call them this evening, or maybe tomorrow.
The apartment is empty when he finally gets home, and Ray thinks his roommate must have left already for mass. Ray should be there, too (it's been three weeks already since he last went), but instead he goes to his bedroom and shuts the door, sits on the bed and pulls off his boots, and lies down on his back, folding his hands together over his chest and closing his eyes.
He naps and he dreams about Mikey, sitting next to Ray in the movie theater, hogging all the popcorn and making wisecracks about the film even when Ray shushes him and tries to pay attention; when Ray wakes up in the afternoon, he's not sad at all.
*****
It's Sunday, and that means dinner with his whole family: his mother and father, his brothers and their wives, his nephews and niece. Ray thinks it might be his favorite part of the week, there surrounded by good food and conversation and the people he loves. It's like it re-energizes him, lets him rebuild himself up each time to face the week that's ahead. The only thing it's missing, really, is Gerard -- but that's a ridiculous thought, he knows even as he thinks it. He tries to imagine Gerard in the kitchen with his sister-in-laws and mom and the babies, drinking tea and playing pinochle and talking about recipes, and the image won't even come.
Ray always assumed he'd get married someday, that he would settle down and have some kids and maybe get a dog. When they went off to war, he was the only one who didn't have a girl waiting for him at home, and he was a little jealous of the others. But that was before he saw Bob's face when he got his Dear John letter, before Gerard realized Eliza's letters were getting more and more incoherent and less and less sane by the month, before he came home and saw Alicia Simmons weep on Gerard's shoulder.
He's not sure exactly when he stopped picturing that prospective wife. It was months after that when he realized he was in love with Gerard, even longer before he realized Gerard had feelings for him, as well, and a good year after that before anything happened between them. They've never discussed it, but Ray suspects nothing ever would have happened, that neither of them would have ever made that first step towards the other, if Mikey hadn't died. But all the good reasons and intentions they had somehow seemed less important after that. As it was, their first kiss was on American soil, private citizens once again.
*****
The next time he sees Gerard is Friday evening. His roommate is gone for the weekend, now celebrating out at his girlfriend's parents' house a few towns south. Gerard's eyes light up as soon as he hears that Ray has the place to himself, and he kisses Ray in the kitchen, and in the living room, and then in the hallway, before he drags him down to the bed. He makes the sweetest noises when Ray pushes inside him, deep and low and full of feeling, and he holds on tight to Ray and guides his rhythm, keeping it slow and easy, almost a tease, all his kisses barely brushes against Ray's mouth. They stay like that for what seems like forever before something shifts behind Gerard's expression and he lets go, gives Ray back the control to drive them both to their pleasure.
Ray thinks that Gerard must have had a harder week than Ray did.
"I have something to tell you," Ray says, afterward, and Gerard shifts his position, resting on Ray's chest.
"What is it?" Gerard says. "Something good or something bad?"
"Good, I think," Ray says. "Pretty good." He hesitates for a second as he runs his fingers through Gerard's hair. "You know how I told you Herb was gone for the weekend with Violet's family?"
Gerard makes an assenting noise.
"They're off celebrating because they got engaged. They're planning a spring wedding."
"How nice for them," Gerard says politely, but Ray shakes his head.
"No, Gerard, you see -- I'll need a new roommate."
Gerard's expression is still blank, like he's waiting for Ray to come to the point.
Ray says, "We could get a place together."
Gerard looks at him for a long moment before he climbs over Ray's body to stand up, still naked. "I'll be right back," he says, and then disappears through the bedroom door.
Ray doesn't move from the bed, listening to the soft noises from the other room. Gerard enters the room again a minute later, holding a bottle of whiskey and a small glass. He sits on the bed next to Ray's legs and gives Ray a small half-smile before he pours himself a drink and swallows it, all in one gulp.
"Gerard," Ray says uncertainly.
"It's not that I don't want to," Gerard says, not looking at him. He pours more whiskey. "I can't leave my ma now. She needs me there, both her and Dad do. I can't just leave them, not after they lost Mikey."
"Gerard," Ray says again, but Gerard shakes his head.
"Did you know Alicia still comes over for dinner every week? Every week. They drag out the photo albums and talk about him. They weren't even engaged, not technically, it's not like she's his widow or something." Gerard twists the glass around in his hands, making a face at it. "And apparently now she's getting married. Can you believe that? She's marrying Pete. What do they even have in common besides Mikey? And she wants all of us to come to the wedding. My ma cried when she told us, like, fucking tears of joy, and hugged her. Jesus."
"Gerard," Ray says, and this time his voice is firm, "come here."
Gerard sighs and he doesn't let go of the whiskey bottle, but he scoots to the head of the bed, until Ray is able to get his arms around him, pull Gerard in close, his back to Ray's chest. Ray's hold is tight. He rests his chin on Gerard's shoulder.
"Your mother and father are okay. They're strong people," Ray says. "I think they would be fine with you moving out. I think they might even be happy. They worry about you." Ray worries about Gerard, too: he drinks too much, sometimes, and he has moods that he can't control, dark deep ones Ray can't help him out of. The truth is, he thinks Mr. and Mrs. Way have been waiting for Gerard to leave the basement for a long time now.
Gerard shakes his head, but it seems more like frustration and dismay than outright disagreement. Ray kisses the corner of his jaw and takes the bottle out of his grip, setting it gently on the nightstand.
"We could get a house," Ray says. "And a dog. You could paint all the walls. We wouldn't have to sneak around so much, and nobody would say anything about it at all, two bachelors living together. I just... I want that. Don't you?"
Gerard sighs. His hand is free now, and he lays it on Ray's thigh, clutching at his flesh with a warm, sweaty grip, a little too hard, like he's afraid Ray is going to go somewhere else. "I don't know. It's just ... everything."
Ray kisses his neck and says, "We don't have to decide anything right now," and then he pulls Gerard back down to lie next to him on the bed, on their sides, facing each other. "We have time," Ray says. He puts his hand on Gerard's shoulder and gazes at him, waiting.
Gerard closes his eyes. "Kiss me again," he says, and Ray does.
Don't Wait Too Long To Come Home
by Pearl-o
Ray/Gerard, 1800 words. Sequel to Sway Sweet and Slow; still 1940s post-war AU, but less crossdressing this time, and more angst.
Much thanks to
impertinence for encouragement and looking this over.*****
Ray forgot to set the alarm clock last night, before he fell asleep, but his body is still ahead of his brain, too perfectly tuned to the feel of Gerard's bed to forget himself, and he wakes up at dawn, just as the first weak rays of sunlight begin to shine through the small high window across the room.
Gerard doesn't stir as Ray slips out of the bed and dresses himself. He finds a comb on the dresser and leans over it, squinting into the dirty mirror as he tries to wrestle his hair into something like respectable shape. Gerard's left out some of his make-up here, a tube of lipstick and some eyeshadow, a pot of some sort of cream. Ray wonders a little where Gerard got it -- did he pinch it from the drugstore or a little cousin, or did he just go and buy it outright himself, brazening it out? It seems careless to leave it out, Ray thinks, and he sets the pieces carefully in the top drawer. He picks up the lingeries and women's clothing off the floor while he's at it, lays them gently inside Gerard's closet and closes the door.
He kisses Gerard's forehead before he goes, breathing in the scent of the two of them in Gerard's bed and listening to Gerard's even breaths. "Love you," he whispers, even though Gerard's still asleep and can't hear him, and then he leaves.
He can hear Mrs. Way up and about upstairs in the kitchen as he leaves. From the window of the sink there would be a clear view of him at the top of the outside stairs, leaving Gerard in the guilt of the early morning. She's never looked and caught him, though (or if she has, she's never said anything, never treated either of them a bit differently), and she doesn't now.
It's a few miles back to his own apartment, a long easy walk in the early morning sunshine. The warmth of the fall hasn't quite given way yet to the chill of winter, but it's coming closer; Ray keeps his hands tucked down in his pockets as he walks. He likes this time of the day, when almost nobody is up. He likes looking at the houses and the buildings, sitting peacefully, waiting for the people to fill them up with noise and action and excitement.
He passes the street that Frank and Jamia live on and feels a twinge of guilt. It's been a few weeks since he saw them, and that's his own fault, he thinks. They're busy all the time now, with the second baby just come, but Ray doesn't have any such excuse for neglecting them. He'll call them this evening, or maybe tomorrow.
The apartment is empty when he finally gets home, and Ray thinks his roommate must have left already for mass. Ray should be there, too (it's been three weeks already since he last went), but instead he goes to his bedroom and shuts the door, sits on the bed and pulls off his boots, and lies down on his back, folding his hands together over his chest and closing his eyes.
He naps and he dreams about Mikey, sitting next to Ray in the movie theater, hogging all the popcorn and making wisecracks about the film even when Ray shushes him and tries to pay attention; when Ray wakes up in the afternoon, he's not sad at all.
*****
It's Sunday, and that means dinner with his whole family: his mother and father, his brothers and their wives, his nephews and niece. Ray thinks it might be his favorite part of the week, there surrounded by good food and conversation and the people he loves. It's like it re-energizes him, lets him rebuild himself up each time to face the week that's ahead. The only thing it's missing, really, is Gerard -- but that's a ridiculous thought, he knows even as he thinks it. He tries to imagine Gerard in the kitchen with his sister-in-laws and mom and the babies, drinking tea and playing pinochle and talking about recipes, and the image won't even come.
Ray always assumed he'd get married someday, that he would settle down and have some kids and maybe get a dog. When they went off to war, he was the only one who didn't have a girl waiting for him at home, and he was a little jealous of the others. But that was before he saw Bob's face when he got his Dear John letter, before Gerard realized Eliza's letters were getting more and more incoherent and less and less sane by the month, before he came home and saw Alicia Simmons weep on Gerard's shoulder.
He's not sure exactly when he stopped picturing that prospective wife. It was months after that when he realized he was in love with Gerard, even longer before he realized Gerard had feelings for him, as well, and a good year after that before anything happened between them. They've never discussed it, but Ray suspects nothing ever would have happened, that neither of them would have ever made that first step towards the other, if Mikey hadn't died. But all the good reasons and intentions they had somehow seemed less important after that. As it was, their first kiss was on American soil, private citizens once again.
*****
The next time he sees Gerard is Friday evening. His roommate is gone for the weekend, now celebrating out at his girlfriend's parents' house a few towns south. Gerard's eyes light up as soon as he hears that Ray has the place to himself, and he kisses Ray in the kitchen, and in the living room, and then in the hallway, before he drags him down to the bed. He makes the sweetest noises when Ray pushes inside him, deep and low and full of feeling, and he holds on tight to Ray and guides his rhythm, keeping it slow and easy, almost a tease, all his kisses barely brushes against Ray's mouth. They stay like that for what seems like forever before something shifts behind Gerard's expression and he lets go, gives Ray back the control to drive them both to their pleasure.
Ray thinks that Gerard must have had a harder week than Ray did.
"I have something to tell you," Ray says, afterward, and Gerard shifts his position, resting on Ray's chest.
"What is it?" Gerard says. "Something good or something bad?"
"Good, I think," Ray says. "Pretty good." He hesitates for a second as he runs his fingers through Gerard's hair. "You know how I told you Herb was gone for the weekend with Violet's family?"
Gerard makes an assenting noise.
"They're off celebrating because they got engaged. They're planning a spring wedding."
"How nice for them," Gerard says politely, but Ray shakes his head.
"No, Gerard, you see -- I'll need a new roommate."
Gerard's expression is still blank, like he's waiting for Ray to come to the point.
Ray says, "We could get a place together."
Gerard looks at him for a long moment before he climbs over Ray's body to stand up, still naked. "I'll be right back," he says, and then disappears through the bedroom door.
Ray doesn't move from the bed, listening to the soft noises from the other room. Gerard enters the room again a minute later, holding a bottle of whiskey and a small glass. He sits on the bed next to Ray's legs and gives Ray a small half-smile before he pours himself a drink and swallows it, all in one gulp.
"Gerard," Ray says uncertainly.
"It's not that I don't want to," Gerard says, not looking at him. He pours more whiskey. "I can't leave my ma now. She needs me there, both her and Dad do. I can't just leave them, not after they lost Mikey."
"Gerard," Ray says again, but Gerard shakes his head.
"Did you know Alicia still comes over for dinner every week? Every week. They drag out the photo albums and talk about him. They weren't even engaged, not technically, it's not like she's his widow or something." Gerard twists the glass around in his hands, making a face at it. "And apparently now she's getting married. Can you believe that? She's marrying Pete. What do they even have in common besides Mikey? And she wants all of us to come to the wedding. My ma cried when she told us, like, fucking tears of joy, and hugged her. Jesus."
"Gerard," Ray says, and this time his voice is firm, "come here."
Gerard sighs and he doesn't let go of the whiskey bottle, but he scoots to the head of the bed, until Ray is able to get his arms around him, pull Gerard in close, his back to Ray's chest. Ray's hold is tight. He rests his chin on Gerard's shoulder.
"Your mother and father are okay. They're strong people," Ray says. "I think they would be fine with you moving out. I think they might even be happy. They worry about you." Ray worries about Gerard, too: he drinks too much, sometimes, and he has moods that he can't control, dark deep ones Ray can't help him out of. The truth is, he thinks Mr. and Mrs. Way have been waiting for Gerard to leave the basement for a long time now.
Gerard shakes his head, but it seems more like frustration and dismay than outright disagreement. Ray kisses the corner of his jaw and takes the bottle out of his grip, setting it gently on the nightstand.
"We could get a house," Ray says. "And a dog. You could paint all the walls. We wouldn't have to sneak around so much, and nobody would say anything about it at all, two bachelors living together. I just... I want that. Don't you?"
Gerard sighs. His hand is free now, and he lays it on Ray's thigh, clutching at his flesh with a warm, sweaty grip, a little too hard, like he's afraid Ray is going to go somewhere else. "I don't know. It's just ... everything."
Ray kisses his neck and says, "We don't have to decide anything right now," and then he pulls Gerard back down to lie next to him on the bed, on their sides, facing each other. "We have time," Ray says. He puts his hand on Gerard's shoulder and gazes at him, waiting.
Gerard closes his eyes. "Kiss me again," he says, and Ray does.