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Let’s get a few things out of the way, right off the bat.
* First: This is all about sex.
Ray and sex, specifically.
* Second: Ray Toro does not judge.
He counts Gerard and Frank as two of his closest friends and if anyone was going to hit his ‘what the fuck-ery’ button in this world it would be one of them.
Frank is a force of nature and a natural disaster all rolled into one little tattooed ball of punk energy. He usually ends up with company on any given night but the gender of that company is many and varied from what Ray has seen.
Gerard would appear to be the exact opposite. Ray supposes Gerard has sex, but he doesn’t have much knowledge if it’s with anyone besides himself. And in any case, whatever Gerard does is entirely up to him.
Otter is solid, but often, an asshole. Ray has no idea why girls are at all interested, yet he’s never lonely.
Ray does not judge.
* Third: Ray is straight.
Not arrow straight like Otter.
He’s played spin the bottle at times, caught himself making out with a dude more than once (usually he’s four beers in when either of those things happen) but, whatever. When it comes to putting his dick somewhere that is warm and wet or not his hand, it’s exclusively female.
Ray has lots of friends of all sexualities, some of them he knows about because they tell him and some of them because somebody else has told. He’s not bothered either way, as long as his friends are safe and happy, Ray is happy.
That’s where this story begins.
Ray is friends with Mikey, albeit in a brotherly way, so in a sense is more invested than with a lot of his other friends.
Mikey is gay, not something that bothers Ray (see above). Lately however, Mikey is very much not happy and that is a real problem.
There have been bruises, well hidden under long sleeves and creative make-up, but not enough for it to be obvious. Besides, they all get beaten in the pit at shows - kicks to the head, elbows to the cheeks, bloody noses - none of that is unusual. There have also been red rimmed eyes and sometimes a sadness that makes Ray want to cry too.
The guys Mikey tends to date are bigger than him, strong athletic types that drink too much beer and yell at football on the television. They drive pick-up trucks and wear letter jackets that they wore in school two years ago. Ray worries that Mikey is constantly setting himself up for failure with these guys, that none of them will want anything permanent with another boy.
That dating Mikey is an experiment for them.
That Mikey sometimes wears girls clothes probably doesn’t help with the whole attracting assholes thing. He doesn’t wear dresses, at least not that Ray has seen, but low slung, skin tight, girls jeans and short-sweet t-shirts.
He’s also, quite often, very pretty.
If anyone asked, Ray would happily tell them that he thinks Mikey is beautiful. He doesn’t say things like that without provocation, and he would say the same of Gerard, Frank and Otter too. It’s a beauty that comes from the inside, when they are all sweat soaked and full to the brim with their music, they all glow. Ray never wonders if he’s like that too, he knows he is, it’s the purity of the noise they make together.
All that aside, Ray has never been attracted to Mikey. He loves Mikey, just like the rest of his band. Like he loves his brothers and all his cousins. Ray has a lot of love to give and he’s not afraid of sharing it around. He never seems to have a problem finding a cute girl to share it with after a show either.
Most Saturday nights, when they aren’t playing, the guys will gather at the Way house and shoot the shit over pizza and beers until they decide on staying in to watch movies or play video games, or head out to a party or club. They don’t bother to contact each other beforehand, they just show up and take it from there.
This Saturday isn’t any different as Ray parks his car and grabs the six-pack off the passenger seat. He notes that neither Frank’s nor Gerard’s cars are there, and with a passing thought, assumes that maybe they went out to the liquor store or Frank’s car is fucked again and Gee went to pick him up. Ray mentally shrugs, whatever the case, Mikey will be here and the others will be back soon enough.
Ray’s manners decree that he rings the bell, all the Ways have told him at some point that he can just come right in, but some things his mother drilled into him just don’t go away. There are footsteps coming to the door and from the way they knock on the hardwood it sounds like Donna in heels. Ray puts on his best smile to greet her as the door swings in.
The moment it opens Ray is stunned to silence. He’d been all ready to say ‘Hi, how are you’ but that dies in his throat when he sees who’s standing there. It’s very obviously Mikey except that Ray has never seen his friend looking anything like what he’s seeing now.
In the seconds that Ray spends gawking, not knowing where to look and certainly having even less of a clue what to say, Mikey’s happy, expectant smile has faded.
“Hi Ray,” Mikey sighs, shoulders dropping.
“Hi, fuck, Mikey …” Not Ray’s finest opening line.
The reason he is so gobsmacked, so utterly blindsided, is that the Mikey standing here in the doorway is fucking gorgeous. It hits Ray like he wasn’t watching while playing dodgeball. It’s a full blown smack in the head. Mikey is a vision and Ray’s poor brain doesn’t even know where to start processing, let alone how.
The dress is blue.
Midnight blue velvet, V neck with cap sleeves and a short flowy skirt. The way it’s cut, crossing over Mikey’s breastbone, is so flattering, hinting at curves but not so tight as to give away that there aren’t any. Mikey’s hair falls soft around his face and under his chin, not the teased up bird's nest that Ray is used to. His makeup is perfectly applied and finished with gloss on his rosebud lips.
Ray’s gaze drifts down, Mikey’s mile long legs, smooth and shiny-just-shaved, something he usually takes for granted when he’s with a girl but he knows exactly what they would feel like. His shoes are low heeled, black suede, slingbacks with a pointed toe.
“Ray?” Mikey’s asking, as if he’s already said it more than once. “Are you coming in?”
“Uh,” again, Ray’s vocabulary is truly dazzling today, “yeah, sure.” He shakes himself awake, still unable to take his eyes off Mikey.
When he finally sees past the way Mikey is dressed Ray clams up again. The thing that should have been immediately obvious to Ray is how Mikey is sad again - maybe still. It hurts in Ray’s gut and his heart to see.
“Thanks Mikey,” Ray tries to swallow what is left of his shock and carries on, “you going out?”
“I thought I was,” Mikey huffs a laugh, absolutely no humor in it at all, “I’d guess that since he’s over half an hour late, I’ve been stood up.”
Ray's emotional roller coaster drops into dip number two and he’s speaking again without any forethought, “What kind of idiot stands you up when you look like that?” His friend is sad but part of Ray is relieved there won’t be any new bruises on Mikey tomorrow morning.
“The kind of idiot I always date,” Mikey’s reply is muted, his eyes cast down under his long lashes.
“Hey, no,” Ray steps up close to Mikey, fingers gentle under his chin to tilt Mikey’s face up. When their eyes meet Ray speaks quietly, “You deserve better Mikey. You should have someone who wants you as much as you want them.”
Mikey blinks slowly, his eyes shiny, “I can’t have who I want, because he doesn’t want me.”
“Well then, he’s an idiot.” Ray lowers his hand, he doesn’t think about how his fingertips trail down the length of Mikey’s neck. Except he does notice goosebumps pricking up on Mikey’s arms and the hushed catch of breath on a sigh, the pink tip of Mikey’s tongue as it slips across his full bottom lip.
“Mikey,” Ray asks carefully, his brain taking a second to catch up, “who doesn’t want you?”
There’s trepidation in those brown-gold eyes, fear too, and a shit ton of courage.
Ok, so, this is where we take a break (imagine that sound, a needle scratching across a record), Ray’s brain needs to have a little chat with his sexuality and clear a few things up.
We’re going to roll back around to the third thing we were discussing earlier and maybe edit that slightly.
* Third: Ray always assumed he was straight … and not attracted to Mikey.
Ray really likes the ladies, as we already mentioned, but he hasn’t (until now) had anything beyond some drunk kissing to compare them with.
Girls smell good. They are usually cleaner than guys, less sweaty and they use perfume. Ray likes that a lot, tucking his nose behind their ears or in the crook of their necks and smelling shampoo or talc.
Mikey smells pretty fucking amazing right now. Not perfume exactly, but freshly showered, his body heat intensifying his own scent. Pheromones, Ray’s brain helpfully provides.
Girls are pretty and delicate. Yeah, so is Mikey.
Girls turn Ray on when they look up at him with wide eyes, lips parted, like they’re waiting to be kissed.
Well.
Fuck.
“Ray?” Mikey whispers. He’s a whole lot closer than Ray thought, breath gentle on Ray’s chin.
“Who doesn’t want you Mikey?” Closer still.
“You?”
“You’re wrong.”