Pretty much as soon as Ray and Walt are finished dopey staring time, which involves a lot of Ray patting Walt's cheeks like he's new--and he is new, he's Ray's now--Brad and Nate disappear.
Or, well, Brad says, in this miserable voice. "We're going to Nate's parents to give you two a night alone," and Nate gives Walt the key as if he doesn't trust Ray with it or something.
"You sound sad about that," Ray says. "Don't you like Nate's mom? Nathaniel, you shouldn't marry him if he doesn't like your mom."
Nate makes a face, then sort of grins. "She has a crush on him," he says.
"You mean she pinches my ass every time we come over," Brad mutters.
They leave only after Brad complains more under his breath, and glares a lot at Ray like it's his fault Nate's mom is some pervy milf, which sounds awesome. Ray thinks Walt's mom doesn't even like him, and she definitely doesn't pinch his ass, but that's fine, because Walt's mom scares him a little bit.
"We should fuck on their bed," Ray says when they get back to Brad and Nate's apartment, and Walt rolls his eyes at him but doesn't say no, and Ray knew there was a reason he chose to marry him. Walt is the best sidekick ever.
"Dude," Ray says, after, with Brad's bed a mess of rumpled sheets in the other room and Walt making them both a mess of scrambled eggs. "You're totally my wife now."
"Yup," Walt says, and doesn't even spit in Ray's eggs before giving them to him, so Ray knows it's totally love.
When Nate and Brad get back, after Ray and Walt fuck in their bed only two more times, Brad takes him aside, looking all exhausted and pissy.
"So Nate and I kind of bought you a vacation," Brad says grudgingly. "Because Nate seems to think Walt deserves to get something for marrying you."
"You bought us a honeymoon?" Ray asks, holding his hands to his chest.
"You're really lucky Hasser is charming," Brad says.
"And me," Ray says. "I'm charming."
Brad stares him down. "You're really lucky I want to get rid of you before you have sex on my bed again," he says finally.
"Too late," Ray says.
"Jesus," Brad says. "Ray, that's the fifth time. Did you at least change the sheets?"
Ray beams at him.
The vacation's down in the Caribbean, and they barely have time to get back to Kansas City and pack their bathing suits and Rudy's awesome lube before they're flying out again to where it's hot and the meals are paid for, and Ray gets to ruin another bed.
The first couple days are in this slow slide of heat, and chlorinated pools only a stone's throw away from actual beach, and Walt wandering around looking hot and not wearing much. The ladies all look at Walt like they want him to clean their pools or something. Then have sex with him. Mostly have sex with him.
Ray finds it funny, sort of, but he mostly finds it an excuse to grab Walt's ass and mark his territory with sloppy kisses, which is totally less gross than the way dogs do it, even if Walt keeps making faces at him every time he does it.
"You're jealous," Walt says.
"You look too good without clothing on," Ray says. "Everyone knows that now. I thought it was my secret."
Walt rolls his eyes.
"You're going to have to gain some weight," Ray says, then considers. "Wait, no, that'd suck. Just put some clothes on, hussy."
Walt stops. "Did you just call me a hussy?" he asks, sounding disbelieving. Ray is unsure how the hell Walt is still surprised by anything he says. He'd think Walt would be used to it by now.
"Yes," Ray says, crossing his arms.
"This hussy isn't going to put out," Walt says, then sort of stomps ahead of him.
"But you're a hussy!" Ray shouts after him. "You have to put out. That's what it means to be a hussy!"
Ray doesn't get laid that night. Okay, he does, because he's pretty sure Walt is actually incapable of holding out, but it takes convincing and whining and all sorts of things that take energy Ray would have preferred to just fuck Walt with. So he's learned his lesson.
"You look like less of a hussy today," Ray tells Walt the next morning, and he gets away with only getting smacked upside the head, which is progress.
Walt gets a tan, and Ray gets a tan, and it's all good, it's so good it shouldn't be legal, and technically isn't, they'll get back to Kansas City and it will be like they never got married, like it doesn't mean anything that Ray's basically pledged his ass to join Walt's ass, or something, but right now it's working fine, Walt flirting with all the ladies in his aw shucks way until Ray swoops in and marks his territory, takes Walt back to sheets that are caked with salt and chlorine, that never get clean because they always seem to be busy on the bed when the maids come by.
When they go home, Walt conks out in the first hour in the air, head in an uncomfortable angle, resting on Ray's shoulder. Ray lets him sleep, wakes him only when they're about to land, manhandling him out of the airport and driving him home and helping him to bed, which he falls into face-first, nose against the sheets.
Ray rubs his back until he gets bored with it, calls his mom with his fingers curled in the collar of Walt's shirt, calls Brad to remind him that he didn't get rid of him forever, calls Rudy to find out where the fuck he got that lube, and if they make it in any other flavour, because Ray's getting a little tired of pineapple.
Walt sleeps, and eventually Ray puts down the phone, crawls in beside him, Walt snoring at him, and it's almost like they're still married here, like it means something.
It means something.