Ray gives Brad a week once he gets back from England, a week to fuck his pretty little lady and get used to home, before Ray and Walt descend on them like a horde of Barbarians, except absolutely adorable.
Nate's got the guest room all laid out like he promised to, because Nate's a good little housewife, and there's a couple days where Brad takes them out while Nate works, and Ray almost forgets they have a fucking appointment at city hall in a couple days, and that this trip isn't just to cockblock Brad and see the sights of Boston.
Except then it's the day before, and Nate makes them buy suits because they didn't remember to actually bring some, and Ray reminds Brad about the strip club so much Brad threatens to gag him, which would be hot, but Ray is spoken for, thanks anyway. And a foursome would be cool, except Ray doesn't share his toys. Or his Walt.
Brad ends up going with him to the strip club only after this stupid silent conversation he shares with Nate, which involves Brad raising his eyebrows, and then Nate raising his eyebrows back and tilting his head, then grabbing Walt away from Ray with his grubby little manicured fingers.
Ray lets Brad pick the strip club, because honestly, he doesn't care much, and they get settled in with beers further from the stage than Ray would choose, but whatever.
"So Walt is okay with you stuffing dollar bills in strippers' g-strings?" Brad asks.
"Hey," Ray says. "Their junk got nothing on his, bro."
"I really don't want to think about Walt's junk," Brad mutters.
"You're just jealous because my little lady has better cocksucking lips than yours," Ray says.
Brad stills. Ray should be afraid. A few years ago he thinks he'd be afraid. But tomorrow's his wedding, and if Brad kills him Nate would probably throw a fit, even if he doesn't want Walt to marry Ray. Ray just raises an eyebrow at Brad.
"Don't talk about Nate's lips," Brad says, looking at him with a stone-faced killer look.
"I'd give them a B+," Ray says. "I guess. I mean, they're not lips that would turn you gay, not like Walt's."
Brad grips his wrist and squeezes. Ray thinks he hears his bones shifting even over the bass.
"Point taken," Ray squeaks.
And then there's some more beers, and Ray isn't even paying much attention to the hot gyrating blonde who really knows how to work that pole, and honestly, he'd be just as happy at a bar, which is a scary fucking thought.
"Let's go to a bar," Ray suggests, because he's not drunk enough considering he's turning in his balls and his wild charming adventures tomorrow.
"So we're not going to put dollar bills in g-strings," Brad says.
"Nah," Ray says. "I mean, I didn't want Walt to think he has me pussy whipped, but he kind of does."
"Walt doesn't have a pussy," Brad says slowly.
"Shows what you know," Ray says.
Brad gives him this look like he hates him, but he takes him to an appropriately dark and dirty bar and doesn't let Ray pay for any of his drinks, so Ray thinks they're cool. Or, at least, they're cool until Ray drinks enough to decide that Brad should know exactly what the first battalion's choice in wedding presents is, in case Brad ever plans to leave the Marines and make Nate the happiest girl in the world with a sparkly diamond ring.
"Rudy sent us flavoured lube," Ray says. "Pineapple. It tastes great on—"
"Let me stop you right there," Brad says.
"And Poke," Ray says. "Who knew Poke was such a kinky bast—"
"Please," Brad says, and he sounds like he's practically begging, which is hilarious. "Please stop there."
Ray stops, because if Brad doesn't show then Ray has no best man, and that might put a damper on his wedding day. And jesus christ, he has a wedding day, and it is today, because it passed midnight awhile ago, and Ray mostly wants to go home and crawl into bed with Walt.
And huh, apparently Ray's already handed in his balls.
"I wanna go home," Ray mumbles into his beer. "I miss my little lady."
"You are the gayest fucking fag to ever exist," Brad says, and Ray just nods agreeably and lets Brad hail a cab and take him back to where he's supposed to be.
Ray's bed is technically the couch, because Nathaniel was being all weird about them not seeing each other the night before, like the traditional WASP he is, but there is no way Ray's spending the night alone, especially after he was all good and didn't even pay any strippers to grind on him, so he sneaks into the guest room after Brad disappears.
Walt's asleep, but he wakes up when Ray crawls in, and mumbles incomphrensibly at him before clutching at him like a barnacle and falling back asleep, so it's worth it, even when Nate opens the door the next morning and then starts yelling at Ray, except in that even tone that is yelling despite its low volume.
And then there's this flurry of dressing, and Nate sighing and fixing Ray's tie at least twice, because it's not Ray's fault he isn't some fancy-pants hotshot like Brad's beau, and then them all eating breakfast.
Ray tries to jerk Walt off under the table, but the first tiny sound Walt makes, Brad stares him down like he knows exactly what he's doing, and Ray's not scared exactly, but he does take his hand out of Walt's pants.
Walt pouts into his eggs for the rest of breakfast, but he seems to perk up once they're in the car, and then downtown, fingers tucked into the sleeve of Ray's stupid, uncomfortable dress shirt while they wait.
And then it's some room, just like any other room but all official, apparently, and some dude who looks bored and tired and like he doesn't give a shit whether or not Ray and Walt gets married, which is retarded, because Ray and Walt getting married is of great importance.
Ray zones out a bit, at the beginning, when the guy's saying the boring shit, sort of listening, but not really, because he's kind of clutching at Walt's hand and trying to deal with the fact he's actually here, stuck with Walt forever and ever as soon as this dude stops talking and asks the important questions.
Brad's rolling his eyes at him, and Nate's looking all smiley and teary eyed, which, seriously, take a Marine to Harvard and they lose their fucking balls.
"Are you crying?" Walt whispers.
"No," Ray says, and wipes at his eyes with his free hand. "That'd be gay."
Brad snorts loudly from behind him, but Ray ignores that, squeezing Walt's hand.
There's this awkward silence where Ray realizes the dude's stopped talking, and everyone's looking at him, and oh yeah, there's shit he needs to participate in.
"Oh," he says. "Right, I do, I totally do. Like, one hundred percent fucking do."
Walt starts laughing.
The dude looks less amused, but he continues, and then everyone gets to look at Walt, who hasn't stopped laughing.
"I do, I guess. Why stop now?" Walt says, once he's managed to stop giggling. "I think I'm stuck with you, retard."
"This is the most pathetic wedding ever," Ray hears Brad muttering from behind him, but honestly, he knows Brad thinks it's off the chain. He's probably just jealous he can't do it with the LT without getting his ass hauled out of the Marines.
"Tonight," Ray tells Walt. "Tonight I'm gonna make a man out of you."
Walt starts laughing again around when the dude starts pointedly coughing, and then they seem to skip a bunch of steps because the dude looks pissed, and they have to sign some shit, and Brad and Nate have to sign some shit, and they almost forget to exchange rings, but it happens eventually, so it all works out.
"Dude," Ray says, when they get back out into sunlight, and Walt's finger is all shiny, and so is Ray's, and dude, he is totally Ray Hasser now, except not really, because Mama Person would just not approve of Ray being the woman in the relationship. Especially with how pretty Walt is.
"I know, right?" Walt says, and Ray kisses him in front of god and country and Brad's retching sounds, just because he can.