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It starts out totally cool. Ray's just enjoying his combat jack, all innocent, see, and then there's all these thoughts about Walt's cocksucker lips, and Ray can deal with that, because he can't remember the last time he saw pussy, and it's not his fault Walt has lips like a fucking pornstar.
It gets kind of weird, though, when Walt makes a return appearance in his dirty daydreams, and then a little weirder when Ray turns his head in the humvee and then there's Walt's junk all up in his face, right on schedule, and it makes Ray think bad things. Totally non-heterosexual things, like, majorly gay things that involve Walt's cock, not just his mouth. Which is totally fucked up, and Ray really needs to cut down on the fucking ripped fuel before he goes as gay as Rudy. Except, like, with bonus cocksucking.
It's around when Ray wants to hold Walt's hand like a goddamn teenage girl with stars in her eyes and wet panties that he starts to worry. Because it's one thing for Ray to get horny, Ray's always horny, so it's cool if Walt's pretty like a girl and it makes Ray want to fuck his mouth. That's totally fine.
The holding hands thing, that is so gay Ray can't even explain it.
The worst thing is that there's no one to talk to this about, because he's pretty sure that the marines, even for him, might not be cool with the telling. And Ray would talk to Brad, who keeps looking at the LT like he's fucking jalapeno and cheese and rainbows, but he thinks Brad might not appreciate the asking, or the telling, and then Ray will be stuck with a team leader going all prissy and acting like he has sand up his pussy, so he'll pass on that.
Ray figures he'll wait for it to go away, except then Walt shoots a guy and goes all quiet and sad, and Ray stops thinking about sucking Walt's cock and starts thinking about hugging him. Okay, he also thinks about sucking Walt's cock, but maybe when Walt regains the ability to talk and shit. The mute thing is seriously fucking with Ray's head.
And Ray tries, he tries really, really hard to make Walt smile, or talk, or anything, and when it works he's practically beside himself with glee. With glee.
Jesus, Ray thinks he needs to rent a float at the next pride parade, because it's looking like momma Person isn't going to be having any grandbabies, even if Walt has childbearing hips.
Ray wants to pound the fuck out of those childbearing hips.
"Ray," Brad says, one day, one sand-blasted day like every other dicksuck day before it. "I'm not asking."
"Can I tell anyway?" Ray asks, because it's Brad, and there's no one else around, and the LT has a cocksucking mouth too, so they can commiserate or something. Not that Ray will ever admit to Brad that he noticed Fick's cocksucking mouth, because Ray doesn't have a death wish.
Brad sighs, this long, drawn out sigh that tells Ray there is nothing Brad would like less. But he's not saying no, and Ray has been going crazy here, like about to strip naked and run around camp and maybe cry a little crazy, because of course he joins the marines before he turns fag.
"So," Ray says. "So there's this thing where Walt has a cocksucking mouth."
Brad sighs again, a different sigh, one that Ray is pretty sure means Brad wants to kill himself, but whatever, this is Ray's story time, and Brad doesn't get to interrupt.
"And, like," Ray says. "That's cool, because it's like he's a girl or something, so like, no homo right?"
He waits for Brad's answer. It doesn't come.
"Wrong," Ray provides for Brad. "Because I kind of want to get down to ten kinds of raunchy with him and totally respect him in the morning and maybe hold his hand."
That last bit probably shouldn't have exited his mouth, but sometimes the words come faster than Ray's brain works.
"You want to hold his hand," Brad repeats, slow.
Ray nods helplessly. "And cuddle him," he says in a small voice.
"And when did you realize you wanted to be on a float in a fucking pride parade?" Brad asks.
See, this is why Ray loves Brad. They're on the same wavelength.
Ray scuffs his toe in the sand. "Help," he says.
"You are the most pathetic excuse for a recon marine I've ever met," Brad says. From him, it sounds fond.
"You're suggesting recon," Ray says, pointing at Brad. "I can recon the shit out of this."
"I'm not suggesting recon," Brad says.
"Gotta go," Ray says, standing up. "I gotta find out if Walt will hold my hand. Thanks, Brad."
Brad sighs, one last time, and that sigh sounds a little bit like crying, but Ray is going to ignore that for the sake of Brad's masculinity and because he has more important things to worry about.
He scrambles up the berm, wandering around until he finds Walt napping in a grave, all tucked up and quiet, and jesus does Ray want to hold his hand. He wants to hold the shit out of his hand.
"Walt," Ray hisses down at him. Walt doesn't stir, so Ray nudges at Walt's side with his boot.
"Fuck, what?" Walt mumbles, and then he's glaring up at Ray, all blue eyes and pissy face, and Ray's heart grows a million sizes bigger, like the Grinch but way more extreme.
"Wanna hold my hand?" Ray whispers.
Walt blinks up at him. Ray blinks down at Walt.
"Fuck off, Person," Walt mumbles, then turns his back on Ray so that Ray can't see his pretty, pretty face.
Ray realizes, with growing horror, that he might be in some deep shit genuine ass-over-head love, and that just, well that just fucking sucks.
"But Walt," Ray says. "I need you to hold my hand."
"What the fuck are you yelling about, Person?" Trombley whines from nearby. And jesus, if that isn't a mood killer Ray doesn't know what is.
"I'm not yelling," Ray says. "I am speaking forcefully." He is speaking very, very forcefully, because Walt needs to hold his hand or Ray is not responsible for his actions, including crying.
"Go away," Walt groans, "for christsake, I can't remember the last time I slept."
And because Ray is a selfless individual who cares more for his beloved's wellbeing than his own, or some stupid shit like that, he goes away. And not to sulk. Or nurse his wounds.
"Are you sulking?" Brad asks from behind him, just as Ray's gotten comfortable in his self-pity.
"No," Ray says. "I went away. Because I am a selfless individual."
There's a long pause.
"This has reached pathetic," Brad says finally.
And Ray is well aware that it has reached pathetic, he had watched in horror as it went from funny to weird to pathetic, and he really doesn't need Brad to tell him that.
Ray crosses his arms.
"Are you...not going to say anything?" Brad asks.
Ray bites his lip.
"Okay," Brad says, and Ray can hear the grimace just from his tone. "I hope you know how much this hurts me, because it's fucking killing me, but I think you need to hold Hasser's hand."
"No shit," Ray mumbles.
"This is the gayest shit I have ever done," Brad mutters.
"Sure," Ray snorts. "Because the LT is totally not a dude at all. Beneath that MOPP is a set of DDs and a wet fucking pussy just waiting for you."
There is a very, very long silence, and oh, yeah, right, Ray wasn't supposed to ask about that, or, like, mention it in Brad's presence on pain of horrifying death involving castration and cattle prods or freaky-ass shit like that.
"I'm not helping you anymore," Brad says finally, sounding very controlled and more than a little terrifying.
"Fine," Ray mutters, and tucks his chin against his knees. "I don't need you anyway."
Brad's already walking away, so Ray focuses on getting himself right back into the zen place of self-pity and woe and looking soulfully into the horizon in case Walt needs to know what he's missing. Which is soulfulness, wrapped up in hot abs.
Except no one's coming for him now, and it's very quiet and lonely, this whole sulking thing, because no one else is appreciating how Ray has mastered the art to a fucking science.
"So I hear you're sulking," Walt says from behind him. Apparently sulking makes it really hard to actually hear approaching people, which Ray should keep in mind if he ever wants to be soulful on watch. And he will be if Walt doesn't hold his goddamn hand and let Ray blow him.
"I'm being soulful," Ray says, and keeps looking at the horizon.
"Okay," Walt says agreeably. "Brad says you're being soulful because I won't hold your hand."
Brad is a dirty fucking traitor. Ray hadn't even mentioned the LTs cocksucking lips or anything.
"Do you want to hold my hand?" Walt asks, when Ray doesn't respond.
"Yes," Ray mumbles.
Walt holds his hand out, palm up. "Hold away, dude," he says. "But you should know, this is pretty fucking gay."
"I know," Ray says, because jesus fucking christ does he know. But he takes Walt's hand.
"You kind of scare me a little," Walt says, and squeezes Ray's hand. "I think that's why I like you."
"It's my irresistible charm," Ray corrects him, and squeezes back.