FIC: Dawn Will Break. Part 1
Title: Dawn Will Break
Summary: However dark the night, dawn will break. Missing scenes/coda for S02Ep03.
Author: Me - Elf.
Characters: Mainly Ray/Chris, but most others get a look in.
Word Count: About 16000 in total, split over two posts.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Notes: Immense thanks to
wiccagal_1996 for letting me throw ideas at her. Obviously highly spoilerific for Season 2: Episode 3. Slash pairing of Ray/Chris. Please comment/crit.
“Dawn Will Break”
Ray sat, staring at the carpet. He didn’t know how long he’d been there – long enough for it to hurt. Or had it hurt already? He couldn’t remember.
The room was silent – or was it filled with ear-splitting noise? He couldn’t tell that, either. And the more he tried to hear – or not to hear – whatever it was – or wasn’t – the harder it was to work out. He hadn’t really been sure since he was being hurled backwards through the air. The noise then was deafening, quite literally, and after that, well, he wasn’t sure if it was his ears playing tricks on him or his brain. In hospital it didn’t really matter – he didn’t want to speak to anyone, and it suited him if they thought that was because of the ‘accident’ as the doctors kept calling it.
He’d had enough, eventually, and he’d walked out. His clothes were in tatters, his hair still full of glass and dust. The woodentop who’d brought him home seemed afraid of him – keeping as much distance as he could, as if explosions were a transmittable disease. He’d offered Ray help, though, when he’d staggered, off balance and so tired he couldn’t think straight, let alone walk straight. Ray had shrugged him off with an angry growl. The one he’d learnt from working with Gene for so many years.
Once he was back in his flat, alone, he’d just sat down in the armchair and he hadn’t moved since. Had no intention of ever moving again.
There was a sudden thumping on the door, violent and loud. It made him jump more than it should have, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Ray Carling if you don’t open this door right now I’ll kick it in.”
Ray pushed himself unsteadily to his feet – not because he wanted to, but because he knew that Gene would do as he threatened. And he didn’t want the hassle of trying to fix his front door again. He’d had enough trouble explaining that to his landlord after Gene had almost taken the entire thing off it’s hinges when he’d discovered Ray was faking illness to go to the big match. Although it seemed he’d been more angry that Ray was a United fan than that he’d shirked his duties.
He pulled the door open, blinking at the afternoon light.
Gene stopped dead. Ray’s clothes were dirty – bloodstained and ripped, his face was a mess of cuts - stitches and dressings looking as if they were holding him together like a patchwork.
“Christ, but you look like shit.”
Ray didn’t reply – he hadn’t seen himself yet, but was willing to trust Gene’s assessment.
“Shouldn’t you still be chasing those lovely nurses around the infirmary?” Gene asked, watching as Ray walked back into his small living room. Then he frowned. Something wasn’t right with his DS.
“You all right, then?” he finally asked, not wanting to show too much concern because he was still trying to pretend that he hadn’t nearly lost one of his own that very morning.
Ray looked around and nodded awkwardly, his neck flaring with pain as he did so. “Yeah, I’m all right.” His voice sounded far away, and not very convincing.
Gene beamed. He lifted his hand to slap Ray on the back – then remembered the sickening thud Ray had made when he’d hit the asphalt – audible to Gene even over the sound of the flames and the car parts raining to earth. He checked the movement and instead slid his hand onto Ray’s shoulder, immediately feeling the glass and dust trapped in the fabric. He gave a friendly squeeze, then let his hand drop again, afraid to hurt the other man.
“Fancy coming down the Railway?” Gene asked. “My round?”
Ray didn’t, but it was obvious that the Guv wanted things back to normal. Ray wanted that too, if he could only work out where normal sat in relation to his current feelings.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Everyone else is going down there,” Gene continued.
Ray nodded in acknowledgment, but Gene chose to take it as agreement.
“Good, I’ll see you down there then.”
And then he was gone again, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the glass rattle.
Ray tried to pull himself together. He took a deep breath, looking around his flat. He needed to get changed; he needed to sort himself out. He’d been through worse than this before. He was fine. He just had to convince himself.
He went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He did look like shit, so he brushed his fingers through his hair, trying to push it into some sort of order.
By the time he got to changing his clothes he was wondering if it was worth it. He ached all over, but he knew he couldn’t let the Guv down. Gene had always taught him that the team was only as strong as its weakest part. Ray had just never expected that weak part to be him.
When he opened the door of the pub it was as if he was watching everyone from afar. It was so normal. The familiar smell and sounds, all the people he knew so well. Ray had spent more time in this pub than he had his flat, more time with these people than he ever had with his own family - but now he felt detached. He stood in the doorway, wondering if he was making a big mistake, but then it started. The round of applause that told him he had done the right thing. No one was smiling as they looked at him, and he wasn’t surprised. Whenever one of them hurt, they all did – he knew that. He had lost colleagues before, and whatever other feelings there were, he knew that it reminded everyone of their own vulnerability. He felt a heavy burden on his shoulders – he had to prove that he was okay.
He got to the bar and leant against it, holding it as best he could, trying to stop himself shaking. Chris and Annie were both talking to him, and he responded appropriately, feeling as if he was speaking from a rehearsed script. Of course he wanted to be back at work, he was a cop, he caught the bad guys. They didn’t beat him.
He took the drinks that were offered to him, but when he tried to lift the pint jar to his lips his hand was shaking so hard that the liquid spilled over the rim. He quickly replaced it on the bar, without taking a sip. Gene put a hand on his back and said something about heroes. Ray barely responded, so tight was the grip he had on his feelings. He doubted that heroes felt anything like he did inside.
It was late, and the pub was slowly emptying. Sam had gone hours ago, after another awkward apology. Ray had nodded and not said much. He knew, rationally, that Sam couldn’t have known what was going to happen. And whilst Ray wanted to blame Sam for the childish argument they had had, he knew that it was at least half his own fault.
Gene leant over Chris’s shoulder and spoke quietly.
“Make sure Ray gets home okay. Check he’s got everything he needs, all right?”
Chris nodded at the Guv. He was worried about Ray – he was normally the life and soul of the pub, telling stories and making everyone laugh. Tonight though, it was as if he was somewhere else. He wasn’t listening to anything anyone said, wasn’t responding. He’d only got through two or three pints, which was unheard of, especially as everyone was offering to buy for him.
Chris finished up his drink and walked to where Ray was sitting.
“Come on, mate,” he said gently. “I’ll see you home.”
It was normally the sort of offer that Ray would have answered with an insult, but he didn’t say a word, just nodded and stood up. He barely acknowledged the two men he had been sitting with as they bid him goodnight.
Chris steered him out of the door, nodding to Gene as the Guv gave him the thumbs up.
Chris walked slowly along next to Ray, wondering if he should offer a hand or anything, but he felt awkward, not being able to read Ray like he usually could, so stayed silent.
“You don’t have to come all the way,” Ray suddenly said. “It’s opposite direction to your place.”
Chris smiled. “’S all right, I don’t mind. ‘Sides, I promised the Guv…” he stopped, wondering if he should have said the last bit.
Ray didn’t respond though, so Chris shrugged it off.
He had never been inside Ray’s flat before, so when Ray opened the door and stood aside he stepped in with a little trepidation. He didn’t really know what to expect – Ray’s desk in CID was constantly overflowing with paperwork and evidence bags. The ashtray was never emptied until it needed excavating and Chris had watched with morbid fascination as various sandwiches and half-eaten pies had begun to form their own eco-systems in Ray’s out-tray. So it came as something of a surprise to find that the flat was clean and tidy, if a little sparse.
There was a battered old leather sofa and a matching armchair, both of them misshapen and scuffed, burn marks marring the arms where forgotten cigarettes had dropped from sleepy hands. There was also a small table and two chairs, near to the kitchen, which was split from the sitting room by a worktop. A television stood in the corner, next to some bookshelves, and, surprisingly, a row of pot plants were lined up on the windowsill.
Chris turned to Ray, feeling awkward. He noticed that Ray was struggling to remove his jacket, so Chris quickly stepped up and eased it from Ray’s shoulders.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, “I mean…do you need anything? Or…anything?” he finished awkwardly.
Ray didn’t answer, or turn around. Chris wondered if he hadn’t heard again - it seemed as if Ray had missed half of what was said to him during the evening.
“Mate?” Chris carefully dropped the jacket onto the back of one of the chairs, then put his hand on Ray’s back, trying to get the other man’s attention. He noticed the slight tremors running through Ray and froze, not knowing what to do.
“R…Ray? Mate?” he said softly.
“‘M fine,” Ray said, but his voice betrayed him. “Just go home.”
Chris stood still, knowing he couldn’t leave Ray, but he’d never had to deal with one of his mates crying before – and when birds cried he always passed them off onto someone else.
He tried to think about what other people did. His mum always used to give him a cuddle, so, at a loss of what else to do, he carefully turned Ray around and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Ray’s shoulders.
“What are you doing, you div?” Ray said, his breathing uneven, as he pushed Chris away. There was no venom in his tone though, and Chris knew that if Ray had really been angry his hands wouldn’t be lingering on Chris’s chest, they’d have been bunched into fists and probably giving him a black eye.
“You just…seemed like you needed it,” Chris shrugged.
Ray didn’t move for a moment, then slid his hands back around Chris’s waist. Chris held him, smelling a mix of antiseptic and smoke in Ray’s hair.
“Will you stay?” Ray asked, his voice very quiet.
Chris nodded immediately. “‘Course I will, mate.”
Ray nodded, then finally let go of Chris. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew that he didn’t want to be alone, and Chris was about the only person who he trusted not to take the piss.
“Your hair’s all full of dust still,” Chris said. “How about we get you a bit cleaner – make you feel better, that.”
Ray nodded. “Can’t get the stitches wet, they said,” he added as an afterthought, touching the large dressing on his neck.
“Well I’ll do it like me sister does me mum’s hair then, over the basin.”
Chris fetched one of the chairs from the dining table and set it under the washbasin, then fetched a pint glass from the kitchen. He felt better when he had something to do, although the way Ray was standing motionless in the living room was scaring him a bit. He was so used to Ray being in charge.
“Come on then, mate,” he guided Ray into the bathroom. “Get your shirt off and sit down.”
Chris leant over the bath and picked up the shampoo bottle, turning back to see that Ray was struggling with his shirt buttons, his bandaged hand awkward.
“Here,” he smiled, pushing Ray’s hands away. “Let me.” He carefully undid each button. When he got halfway down he looked up to check that Ray was okay with what he was doing. Ray’s blue eyes were staring straight at him. Chris gave a small smile. “Nearly there,” he said gently, quickly breaking eye contact.
Ray looked as if he was asleep on his feet, but he lifted his hands and cupped Chris’s face with them, forcing Chris to look at him.
“What? What?” Chris asked, laughing nervously.
Ray pulled Chris closer, leaning forward himself, and kissed Chris hard on the mouth.
Chris opened his mouth with surprise, trying to say something as he realised what was going to happen, then all he could taste was fags and whiskey as Ray slid his hands through Chris’s hair and held him tightly. He put his hands on Ray’s waist, almost overbalancing and holding Ray tightly. He didn’t know what to do, torn between pushing Ray away as he knew he should and kissing him back, as he had fantasised about doing for so many nights.
Ray broke the kiss suddenly, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, I’m…”
Chris was silent, his mouth hanging open. “No, no,” he felt flustered, not knowing what to say or do. He looked away, embarrassed, and continued undoing Ray’s shirt before pushing it off his shoulders, knowing that Ray was embarrassed too. He chose to ignore what had happened, almost wondering if he’d imagined it. “Sit down and tip yer head back,” he said, a little too brusquely. He tried not to look at Ray’s broad chest, now marred with cuts and bruises all over it. There were some patches of Elastoplast and more white dressings, and Chris guessed that under the dressings were probably stitches.
Chris scooped warm water over Ray’s hair, wetting it down, just as he’d seen his sister doing. Then he gently lathered up the shampoo, working it through, pulling out tangles in the curls around Ray’s neck. Occasionally Ray would wince or move slightly, his face screwing up with pain.
“Sorry,” Chris said.
“’S just bruises, it’s fine,” Ray answered.
Chris nodded, but under the soft hair he could feel the lump on the back of Ray’s skull where his head had hit the road. He was carefully to stop the water getting too near the large dressing on Ray’s neck, draping a towel over his shoulder and using it to dry up stray rivulets of water.
The shampoo was full of dirt and dust, and in some places tinged pink from the dried blood that had been in Ray’s hair. Chris washed it off and used a little more shampoo to do a final wash. The smell was pure Ray, and Chris breathed it in deeply. He didn’t think that Ray was asleep, although the other man hadn’t opened his eyes for some time.
There we are,” he announced. “All done.”
Ray sat up, wincing as his bruised back complained. Chris saw the movement and quickly put his arms around Ray’s shoulders, helping him up. He very gently rubbed the towel over Ray’s hair.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Chris asked.
Ray shook his head. “‘M tired.”
“I’m not surprised, mate,” Chris answered. “Come on, we’ll get you settled.”
As Ray walked away Chris got his first real look at Ray’s back – it was dark with bruises, especially across his shoulders.
Chris wondered what he would be doing if it were him that had been hurt. He couldn’t imagine possibly being out of hospital, let alone back at work. He knew Ray had the drive in him to do it though, he just worried that it was all too soon. Even if Ray’s body could cope, Chris wasn’t so sure about his mind.
But he knew that he would be there for Ray, whatever he needed. Unlike most of the others at the station, Chris had seen Ray’s softer more sensitive side. It had been Ray who had sat with Chris for the entire night after Chris had killed someone for the first time. Chris remembered crying for hours, unable to come to terms with what he had done. Ray hadn’t tried to make him feel better, or cheer him up, but he had sat with him and explained to Chris what had happened and why he had done the right thing.
The memory of finding out the man had died was still sharp in Chris’s mind. The phone call had come through from the hospital some hours after they had stopped the armed raid. Hunt had shouted at Chris from across the room, telling him that his man had died, and Chris had felt as if his entire world had come apart. He’d run away and locked himself in the toilet. Ray had known where to find him though, and in the end had coaxed him out and taken him away from the station, driven them out of the city, armed with some beers and a bottle of whiskey.
He’d found out a bit about Ray that night, too. Ray had told him about the day he’d first seen a man die, when he was just fourteen and a docker had been crushed to death in front of him. Ray spoke about the guilt he’d felt at being unable to help, watching the man’s life drain away right in front of him. And looking back Chris now wished he had offered Ray more support, but at the time he had been too wrapped up in his own emotions. Chris had had the feeling that Ray had probably never spoken to anyone else about it, and hadn’t been surprised to see the brightness of unshed tears in Ray’s eyes. Neither of them had ever spoken about either incident again.
Now Chris wondered why Ray had come after him that day. He thought perhaps that Ray had always had feelings for him, but had never expressed them before. He also knew that he couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. As soon as Ray was in a more stable state, Chris knew that he would have to ask, because he couldn’t bear the thought of something he wanted so desperately to be lost because he was too afraid to speak up and break the social taboos.
By the time Chris had dried the bathroom up where he had splashed water and put away the beer mug he’d been using, Ray had changed into a pair of pyjama trousers and was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head resting on his hands.
“You okay?” Chris asked.
Ray nodded. “Took some painkillers, it’ll be right in a minute.”
“‘Ave you got a blanket or something?” Chris asked.
Ray looked up. “What?”
“For me to kip on the sofa…I thought you might have a spare blanket,” Chris answered, feeling awkward again.
“There’s room in here with me,” Ray answered, waving a hand at the large double bed. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything again – I promise.”
Chris shook his head. “No – I mean, I don’t mind, I…” he didn’t know what to say, so he shut up, walking in to the room and pulling his jumper off, then undoing his shirt and trousers, until he had stripped down to his pants. There was indeed plenty of room for both of them in the bed, and Chris watched as Ray flicked a switch on his alarm clock and settled down, his back turned to Chris. He shifted about for a minute, and Chris knew that it must be hard to find a comfortable position.
“Night,” Chris said softly, lying on his side so he could just see the silhouette of Ray’s form under the blankets.
“Night,” Ray answered, sounding almost asleep already.
Chris lay in silence, listening to the steady breathing from the other side of the bed, along with the other noises around the block of flats as people settled for the night. The plumbing clanked and hissed and people moved around. The odd car was audible in the street below them, but everything seemed peaceful enough. He wondered what they would be doing now if Ray had been killed, if the entire force would still be working, trying to find the bomber. He found it too awful to think about though. There was no one else in the department who he felt he could work with in the same way. He felt a great responsibility to protect Ray whilst he was down, and sleep didn’t come easily to him.
He awoke to a sound and immediately adrenaline coursed through his veins. He lay, eyes wide open, trying to work out what had woken him.
Then he heard it again – a soft noise, as if someone was very scared. He moved across the bed, reaching out to touch Ray, but scared of waking him. He put his hand gently on Ray’s arm.
“It’s all right, mate, you’re all right,” he said softly, his voice sounding loud in the quiet of the night.
Ray stilled under his touch, and quietened for a moment. Chris settled back down, his hand still on Ray, hoping that the touch would be calming. It wasn’t long before Ray was moving again though, obviously tormented by his dreams. Chris moved closer, trying to remember what his mother had done when he had had nightmares as a child.
He remembered her holding him close, protecting him and talking to him in a soothing voice. So gingerly he moved closer to Ray, wrapping his arm around Ray’s waist and using the other to gently stroke down his back. He kept repeating that Ray was safe and that everything was all right. After a while Ray turned over, moving closer to Chris and sleepily laying his own arm over Chris.
Ray’s head ended up almost on Chris’s shoulder, so despite his arm going to sleep, Chris continued to soothe him and stoke his fingers through the long hair.
Ray woke early the next morning, the throbbing pain as the stitches in his neck pulled making him shift a little, which seemed to set off a cascade of other aches and pains. Then he became aware that whatever he was resting on was also moving – a gentle rhythm rising and falling. He opened his eyes to see Chris’s chest, and as he worked out where the rest of his body was he realised that somehow, in the night, he had tangled himself up with Chris – his head ending up almost under Chris’s chin, his arms wrapped around the slim body. Chris was equally cuddled, his arms both around Ray, one hand in Ray’s hair.
Ray debated moving or waking Chris up, but then thought better of it. He felt so comfortable and so safe that he never wanted to move. He wondered how they had ended up in his bed, but he wasn’t complaining, he just wanted to know how one of his fantasies had suddenly become a reality, and was amazed that apparently, Chris was happy with the state of affairs. At least he seemed to be. There was no telling what would happen when he woke up.
Ray stroked his fingers lightly over Chris’s smooth milky-white stomach. He knew he’d have to move soon, his bladder protesting at each small movement he made, but he was loathe to give up a moment he wasn’t sure he’d ever get again.
Chris tried to shift to rid himself of a tickle on his stomach, but found he couldn’t move either of his arms. His right one, it seemed, wasn’t even attached to his body anymore – there was just a strange heavy feeling of numbness.
He wondered if it would soon be time to get up, and, remembering where he was, knew he should be up early to help Ray and hopefully stop off at his own house for a change of clothes.
Then he became aware that the blankets had become very heavy. And warm. And were stroking his stomach. He opened his eyes, blinking as sleep blurred his vision.
Ray was definitely stroking his stomach. And cuddling him. And, apparently, cutting off the blood supply to his right arm.
“C’n you get off me?” he mumbled sleepily.
Ray jumped at the voice; he had been completely unaware that Chris was awake. His stitches in his neck and stomach pulled and he winced, swearing.
“Sorry,” he muttered, quickly sitting up.
“I just need me arm back is all,” Chris explained, feeling a surge of pins and needles as Ray moved off his squashed appendage. “You can stay where you are, otherwise.”
Ray looked surprised. “Really?”
Chris nodded. “It were nice.”
Ray shook his head, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Need a piss, anyway,” he explained before standing up unsteadily as his entire body protested. “Be back in a sec.”
Chris nodded, pulling the blanket over him as he missed the warmth of Ray’s body. He had no idea why he felt so comfortable in another man’s bed, sleeping with someone of the wrong sex. He tried to imagine himself being gay and all he could conjure up was some pantomime image of himself as a lisping limp-wristed fairy. When he applied the same image to Ray he almost laughed out loud.
Ray was back within minutes, moving stiffly, obviously in pain.
Chris lifted the blankets, welcoming Ray back under them.
“What are we doing?” Ray asked as he settled back into Chris’s embrace.
“Cuddling,” Chris answered.
Ray was silent, unable to argue the point. “I meant,” he continued, re-thinking what he was trying to say. “We’re not poofs.”
Chris nodded. “I know.”
“Oh.” Ray slid his hand over Chris’s thigh, and could feel his own body react to the almost-intimate touch. “Good.”
The alarm interrupted them before Chris could start to really enjoy what Ray was doing. They both got up, awkwardly working around each other, Chris helping Ray to do up his shirt buttons and batting Ray’s hands away as he struggled to knot Ray’s tie, becoming confused at trying to do it as a mirror image. “Div,” Ray murmured as Chris messed the knot up for the third time. Chris grinned widely, knowing that Ray was teasing him.
“Still doing a better job than you were,” he answered.
Ray made them both tea whilst Chris quickly washed, and when Chris emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around him, Ray handed him the mug of tea and a freshly lit cigarette.
“Can we stop at mine?” Chris asked. “I need some clean pants and a change of shirt.”
Ray nodded. “Course. Someone dropped my motor off yesterday. You can drive. Not sure I’m up to it.”
Chris nodded, surprised that Ray would admit such a thing.
“Are you sure you should be coming to work?” Chris asked, concerned.
The look Ray gave him was enough of an answer.
Chris ran into his parents’ house, trying to undo his shirt buttons as he ran up to his room. His mum looked out from the kitchen as he thumped up the stairs.
“Christopher?” She called. “Do you want some tea? And where’ve you been? You know you’re to call if you’re going to be out all night.”
“I’ve not got time for tea, mum,” Chris called back, falling over as he tried to kick off his shoes whilst he pushed his arms into a clean shirt.
“Where’ve you been? Is it about this bomb? Is it the IRA like everyone’s saying? They said a policeman had been hurt.”
“It were Ray. I mean, he got caught in the bomb. But he’s okay, I just stayed at his last night, to help out, like,” Chris shouted back.
“It was Ray?” Chris’s mother came up the stairs and stood by his bedroom doorway. “They made it sound really bad, on the radio.”
She had never met Ray Carling, but she knew the name. From the first day that Chris had worked in CID all of his conversation had been about DS Carling and DCI Hunt – and, more recently, a DI Tyler, too. She knew that Chris worked with Ray most days, and immediately her heart clenched a little at the thought that it could have been her baby who was caught in the blast.
“You’re all right though, ain’t you?” she asked, worried.
Chris pulled open the door, then sat back on his bed whilst he pulled his shoes back on. “Fine. It was just Ray, he got hurt pretty bad and I thought he better not be on his own is all.”
“He’s okay now, though?”
Chris shrugged. “I might stay over a few more nights – I dunno. It’s hard for him to do stuff – he hurt one of his hands and that.”
Chris’s mother nodded. “If either of you need anything – a decent meal or owt, he’s welcome to come here, you know that.”
Chris smiled and nodded. “Thanks, mum.” Although he knew that Ray would never agree to any such thing. Chris wasn’t sure, but he thought that Ray would probably rather face down any number of armed robbers than sit down to a family dinner.
It was barely four hours later that Chris was wondering if Ray would ever get to sit down to a dinner again. If Chris hadn’t been frozen to the spot, he would have thrown up. Miller was pressing the gun into Ray’s head and the Guv was just making the situation worse. Chris wanted to run forward, to grab Ray and get him away from the bastard who was trying to hurt him – to kill him. But he couldn’t. All he could do was watch, and it felt as if his insides were being eaten away, knowing that he might lose the most precious thing he had ever had – something he had only just found. Ray might die without them ever having another night together. He might lose his life for no reason, in this Godforsaken cold damp cave of a place.
Then Tyler managed it, finally ended it without any more bloodshed. As soon as the gun left Miller’s hand tears began to fall down Chris’s face. He felt as if there was no strength left in his body.
Everyone was filtering out of the dark underground chamber, the Boss and the Guv manhandling Miller, Annie following. Chris turned to Ray and could see the physical effort it was taking for the other man to pull himself together.
Chris held out his hand and a moment later Ray took it, sliding his fingers in between Chris’s and holding on tightly. Chris dragged Ray closer, glancing around and checking that they were alone, then wrapped his arms around Ray as tightly as he could and held him. He could feel the shuddering breaths as Ray cried and Chris couldn’t help himself but sob too. He dug his fingers into Ray’s jacket, gripping the cloth so hard it hurt. Finally he released his hold, pushing Ray away so that he could see his face in the gloom.
Ray looked drained, his blue eyes glassy with fatigue. Neither of them had spoken, and no words needed to be said. Ray slid his hand around Chris’s neck, the bandage rough against Chris’s soft skin, and pulled him close, kissing him hard, tasting the salty tears on Chris’s skin, then resting his forehead against Chris’s.
There was a shout from somewhere in the complex. “Carling! Skelton! Get back ‘ere, now!”
Ray gave Chris a small grin, both of them understanding that their moment was over for now and they needed to put back the professional façade.
“C’mon.” Ray pulled Chris towards the exit, their hands still joined. “We can finish this later.”
Chris nodded, now safe in the knowledge that there would be a ‘later’.
Ray sat in the pub, happily pissed. His top pocket bulged with the money the department had collected for him, all his friends were around him and everyone was in good cheer. He kept stealing glances at Chris, who was also well on the way to being drunk. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was lucky enough to have fallen in love with someone who actually loved him back, even if it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship. He looked around the pub, looking at all his other colleagues. Most of them were married and those that weren’t remained single for good reason, in his opinion.
There had been times when he’d thought about exactly where his life was heading. There had been girls who he knew would have walked up the aisle for him, but he’d never felt the same way about any of them. He knew a policeman’s life was never his own and he’d seen too many marriages turned bitter by the long and unpredictable hours, just as he’d seen enough single policemen turned bitter for the very same reason. Most of them ended up finding solace in the bottom of a bottle, and Ray had been all too aware that he could follow that same path.
Except now he had Chris. Suddenly he felt as if a part of him that he didn’t even know was missing had been given to him. He wanted to stand up and shout it out to the whole pub. But that threw up whole new problems. He had Chris, and despite being happier than he had probably ever been before, he couldn’t tell a soul. He stared into his pint glass, feeling slightly cheated by the world.
A hand on his arm brought him back to the present. He looked up, his eyes seeming to lag a few seconds behind his brain as the fuzz of alcohol formed a barrier between him and everything else.
“C’mon, mate,” Chris says, looking none too steady on his feet himself.
Ray nods and downs the rest of his pint in one. His eyelids are heavy, as are his limbs. He stands up, but can’t organise his aching body into putting his jacket on. Chris is there though, holding out the sleeves and sorting him out. Ray grunts his thanks and wonders what the two of them look like to everyone else.
There was no question as they began to walk towards Ray’s place. Chris knew he had a dopey smile on his face, but he couldn’t stop. He was walking home – to a place he’d only been once before – but nevertheless his home. Ray seemed a lot better, he’d been moving more easily, smiling more and seeming at ease in the Railway. Although Chris had also watched the volume of tablets that Ray had consumed over the course of the day with a slight niggle of worry. He wished that the Guv didn’t make it so obvious that he thought Ray was fine, because Chris knew that Ray would never argue with Gene and was eager to prove that he was okay.
Ray glanced sideways at Chris as they approached the block of flats. Chris was looking back at him, a big soppy grin plastered over his face, hair flopping into his eyes.
“Wha’?” Ray asked, wondering if Chris was laughing at him for some reason.
“‘M just happy,” Chris answered. “Thought I might lose you today, an’ I didn’t, an’…’s just good is all.”
Ray shook his head. “Div,” he said, laughing.
“Wanker,” Chris replied, giggling.
Ray stood aside as they reached the bottom of the concrete stairs, waving an arm to invite Chris forward. “Ladies first,” he said, as Chris walked past him.
Chris giggled some more. “Pillock.”
Ray followed Chris up the stairs, his eyes firmly on Chris’s tight backside. As they reached a flight that was in darkness, vandals having smashed all the lights, Ray slid his hand between Chris’s legs, groping his bollocks. Chris squeaked and spun around.
“What’re you doin’?” he laughed, slapping at Ray’s hand.
“You wave yer arse in my face like that an’ expect me not to touch?” Ray kept walking, forcing Chris back into the wall.
“Ray! Not here,” Chris looked around, his eyes slightly wild.
“Why not?” Ray pushed his own body against Chris’s so they were touching from chest to knee.
“Someone might come,” Chris whispered.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Ray smirked, thrusting his groin into Chris.
The look on Chris’s face was so comical that Ray couldn’t keep the act up and burst out laughing. Chris stood still and silent for a moment, trying to work out what had just happened, then started giggling again too.
“Should’a seen your face,” Ray managed. “It were priceless.”
Chris pushed Ray away, trying to be grumpy, but failing. “Bastard fucking wanker.”
Ray reached to Chris and grabbed his bum, pulling him close again. “All of them and worse,” he nodded. “Now get upstairs.”
Chris gestured for Ray to go first, wary of being groped again, and once the other man was climbing the stairs he had to admit that the view was very nice.
Ray unlocked his front door and shouldered it open, staggering slightly. Chris carefully closed it behind them, noticing that Ray was heading straight for the bathroom.
“There’s bread in the cupboard,” Ray called from where he was having a piss, the bathroom door wide open still. “You can make us some toast.”
Chris grinned, feeling hungry too. He went off to discover the contents of Ray’s kitchen, shedding his jacket onto one of the chairs. Ray walked up behind him as he was standing at the worktop, sliding his hands around Chris’s waist. He leant into Chris and nuzzled into his hair, breathing into Chris’s ear.
“Gerroff tickling, would you?” Chris tried to escape, twisting around in Ray’s arms.
Ray pressed Chris back against the worktop, gently, then kissed him. Chris responded eagerly, but there was none of the urgency he expected. Ray just planted lots of small soft kisses on Chris’s lips.
Chris lifted his hand to Ray’s face, touching the grazes and cuts on his cheekbone, then rubbing his thumb over the stitches above Ray’s eye.
“Does it ‘urt?” he asked, standing on tip toes and kissing Ray’s cheekbone, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ray shrugged. “‘S okay.”
Chris span around as he smelt burning and grabbed the grill pan from under the grill. He grinned sheepishly at Ray. “D’you mind it a bit burnt?”
Ray shook his head, trailing a hand over Chris’s back.
They stood shoulder to shoulder buttering their toast, Ray scooping marmite out of the pot and spreading it thickly onto his toast whilst Chris pulled a face.
Ray leant back against the worktop, chewing, watching as Chris half-concentrated on eating and half on tidying things away.
“Do you mind if I call me mum?” Chris asked. “She don’t like it when I’m out all night and haven’t called.”
Ray tried not to listen in on the telephone conversation, busying himself tidying the kitchen and then heading for the bedroom. He sank down onto the bed, dog tired, and kicked off his shoes. He heard Chris still talking in the living room, so, just for a moment, he lay back and closed his eyes, waiting for the younger man.
Chris hung up the receiver, having convinced his mum that everyone was fine and told her a little bit about his day. He walked into the bedroom to see Ray still fully clothed, flat on his back, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, fast asleep. Chris approached him quietly and reached to gently undo his tie. Ray awoke, but didn’t move, staring sleepily up at Chris.
Chris smiled. “Sleepyhead,” he accused.
“Wasn’t. Was just restin’.”
Chris removed the tie and threw it on the floor behind him, then started on the buttons on Ray’s shirt, pushing the fabric back and planting kisses on Ray’s chest.
Ray closed his eyes again, enjoying the feel of Chris’s lips on his skin, feeling Chris’s long fringe tickling his stomach as Chris gently kissed each cut or scrape.
Then Chris moved and Ray felt his belt being tugged on as the buckle was undone. He moved his arms behind his head, watching Chris through half-closed eyes as the younger man continued to undress him. Chris smiled up to Ray. “C’mon, move or I can’t get your trousers off.”
Ray reluctantly sat up and shed the rest of his clothes, pulling Chris close and holding him. The feel of Chris’s clothes against his own naked skin sent a buzz of excitement through Ray, but he knew he was in no state to do anything about it.
“Bed,” he murmured into Chris’s ear.
Chris nodded, quickly shedding his own clothes as Ray pulled the blankets back. He climbed into bed and was immediately surrounded by Ray’s strong arms. Chris smiled and squirmed even closer, so his entire body was pressed against Ray’s. He felt so safe, wrapped up in Ray, as if nothing could ever touch them.
Ray held Chris tightly. Although Chris was slim, he was muscular and it felt odd to be holding a body that was all bones and muscles after so many nights of having a woman in his bed. It also felt like the most natural thing in the world though. Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with someone that he hadn’t just had sex with. But there was none of that pressure with Chris. Whilst it didn’t always make him an ideal copper, Ray now welcomed Chris’s easy acceptance of other people. He gave Chris a kiss on the top of his head, settling down into the bed further, trying to ignore the myriad of aches and pains he still felt.
The building was quiet. A cavernous structure, now empty, with only a few broken and rusted machines to show that it had ever had a purpose. Ray turned around, trying to remember why he had come here. There was something…in the back of his mind, he knew there was a reason. He heard a noise and turned. Chris was walking towards him, looking at something in his hand. Ray didn’t remember Chris being with him, but they were obviously working. Ray began to walk toward Chris, to ask him what he’d found, when suddenly an explosion ripped through the air. He saw Chris’s startled expression a split second before the orange ball of fire engulfed him. Ray tried to run, tried to shout, but the wall of hot air held him back like a huge heavy blanket, preventing him from moving. He watched as Chris’s body was flung aside, and still he couldn’t move. Finally the fireball dispersed, leaving just smoke and debris in its wake. And Ray could move. He ran forward, but Chris was nowhere to be seen. He started shouting, searching frantically, but there was nothing, no sign of there ever having been anyone else there. Then a voice made him turn. Tyler was standing in the doorway, holding Chris by the front of his collar in one hand, the rest of him dragging on the ground, as if he were a child’s toy. Chris’s head was lolling about, his eyes open, staring lifelessly at Ray.
Tyler was laughing, pointing at Ray and laughing. Then he turned to walk away, Chris’s legs dragging along the floor, Tyler carrying him easily.
Ray began to run, but so did Tyler, leading them deeper into the factory. And Ray could see Chris’s mouth moving. Mouthing words. ‘Help me’, he was saying, and Ray was trying, but however fast he ran he couldn’t get any closer.
And then the air raid siren began to go off, the distinctive ‘crump’ of bombs falling sounded close by. Ray screamed at Tyler, knowing that they weren’t safe in the factory.
“Ray!” Chris shouted, as Tyler seemed to be getting away from him. “RAY!”
And something was pulling at Ray’s arm, holding him back just when he needed to get away the most.
“RAY!”
And suddenly he was in darkness, and he wasn’t running. But Chris was still shouting his name. He lay, his eyes open, staring up at nothing, seeing the orange glow of the streetlights on his ceiling.
“You were ‘aving a bad dream, mate,” Chris said, propped up on one elbow, one arm across Ray’s chest, holding his arm, obviously having shaken him awake.
Ray nodded, the images still vivid in his mind.
“Want to talk about it?” Chris offered, letting go of Ray’s arm.
Ray shook his head. He could feel the sweat on his skin, and his heart was still beating wildly, as if he really had been running. He took Chris in his arms and pulled him down so that Chris’s head was resting on his chest. Chris slid his arm over Ray’s waist. His ear was pressed against Ray’s chest and he could feel Ray still shaking.
Ray felt Chris’s body relax, resting heavily across him, the dead weight and the rise and fall of Chris’s chest under his hand reassuring. Ray lay awake until dawn, finally slipping out from under Chris’s sleeping body at about half past five. He felt like shit, a combination of the alcohol of the night before and the lack of sleep.
He washed as best he could, trying to avoid most of the bandages and stitches, then dressed and made himself a strong coffee and stood out on the walkway drinking it in the pale morning sun, smoking his first cigarette of the day.
Eventually he made his way back indoors and went back to the bedroom. Chris was sprawled across the bed, taking up every inch of space, his hair flopped across his face and one arms wrapped tightly around a spare pillow. Ray sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the hair out of Chris’s eyes, then trailed his fingers down Chris’s back.
“C’mon, wake up,” he said softly.
Chris didn’t move, and Ray smiled, wishing he didn’t have to wake him.
“Chris, time to get up,” he shook Chris’s arm.
“Mmmnnno,” Chris mumbled. “J’s bit longer.”
“We’ve got to get to work,” Ray answered.
“C’m’ere,” Chris flailed about with his arm, trying to find Ray without opening his eyes. When it was clear that the bed was empty he finally cracked open one eye. Seeing Ray was fully dressed and sitting up, Chris moved. “When d’you get up?” he asked, feeling cheated out of his morning cuddle.
“A while ago, when you were still dead to the world,” Ray answered. “Get in the bathroom, cos we need to get to your place on the way in.”
Chris scowled. “You ‘ad a nightmare last night,” he remembered.
Ray turned away, getting up. “I know. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Chris sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don’t mind. What was it about? You wouldn’t say.”
Ray shrugged, not about to tell Chris. “Nothing in particular. I’ll make you tea.”
To Be Continued....
Part Two
Summary: However dark the night, dawn will break. Missing scenes/coda for S02Ep03.
Author: Me - Elf.
Characters: Mainly Ray/Chris, but most others get a look in.
Word Count: About 16000 in total, split over two posts.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Notes: Immense thanks to
wiccagal_1996 for letting me throw ideas at her. Obviously highly spoilerific for Season 2: Episode 3. Slash pairing of Ray/Chris. Please comment/crit.“Dawn Will Break”
Ray sat, staring at the carpet. He didn’t know how long he’d been there – long enough for it to hurt. Or had it hurt already? He couldn’t remember.
The room was silent – or was it filled with ear-splitting noise? He couldn’t tell that, either. And the more he tried to hear – or not to hear – whatever it was – or wasn’t – the harder it was to work out. He hadn’t really been sure since he was being hurled backwards through the air. The noise then was deafening, quite literally, and after that, well, he wasn’t sure if it was his ears playing tricks on him or his brain. In hospital it didn’t really matter – he didn’t want to speak to anyone, and it suited him if they thought that was because of the ‘accident’ as the doctors kept calling it.
He’d had enough, eventually, and he’d walked out. His clothes were in tatters, his hair still full of glass and dust. The woodentop who’d brought him home seemed afraid of him – keeping as much distance as he could, as if explosions were a transmittable disease. He’d offered Ray help, though, when he’d staggered, off balance and so tired he couldn’t think straight, let alone walk straight. Ray had shrugged him off with an angry growl. The one he’d learnt from working with Gene for so many years.
Once he was back in his flat, alone, he’d just sat down in the armchair and he hadn’t moved since. Had no intention of ever moving again.
There was a sudden thumping on the door, violent and loud. It made him jump more than it should have, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Ray Carling if you don’t open this door right now I’ll kick it in.”
Ray pushed himself unsteadily to his feet – not because he wanted to, but because he knew that Gene would do as he threatened. And he didn’t want the hassle of trying to fix his front door again. He’d had enough trouble explaining that to his landlord after Gene had almost taken the entire thing off it’s hinges when he’d discovered Ray was faking illness to go to the big match. Although it seemed he’d been more angry that Ray was a United fan than that he’d shirked his duties.
He pulled the door open, blinking at the afternoon light.
Gene stopped dead. Ray’s clothes were dirty – bloodstained and ripped, his face was a mess of cuts - stitches and dressings looking as if they were holding him together like a patchwork.
“Christ, but you look like shit.”
Ray didn’t reply – he hadn’t seen himself yet, but was willing to trust Gene’s assessment.
“Shouldn’t you still be chasing those lovely nurses around the infirmary?” Gene asked, watching as Ray walked back into his small living room. Then he frowned. Something wasn’t right with his DS.
“You all right, then?” he finally asked, not wanting to show too much concern because he was still trying to pretend that he hadn’t nearly lost one of his own that very morning.
Ray looked around and nodded awkwardly, his neck flaring with pain as he did so. “Yeah, I’m all right.” His voice sounded far away, and not very convincing.
Gene beamed. He lifted his hand to slap Ray on the back – then remembered the sickening thud Ray had made when he’d hit the asphalt – audible to Gene even over the sound of the flames and the car parts raining to earth. He checked the movement and instead slid his hand onto Ray’s shoulder, immediately feeling the glass and dust trapped in the fabric. He gave a friendly squeeze, then let his hand drop again, afraid to hurt the other man.
“Fancy coming down the Railway?” Gene asked. “My round?”
Ray didn’t, but it was obvious that the Guv wanted things back to normal. Ray wanted that too, if he could only work out where normal sat in relation to his current feelings.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Everyone else is going down there,” Gene continued.
Ray nodded in acknowledgment, but Gene chose to take it as agreement.
“Good, I’ll see you down there then.”
And then he was gone again, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the glass rattle.
Ray tried to pull himself together. He took a deep breath, looking around his flat. He needed to get changed; he needed to sort himself out. He’d been through worse than this before. He was fine. He just had to convince himself.
He went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He did look like shit, so he brushed his fingers through his hair, trying to push it into some sort of order.
By the time he got to changing his clothes he was wondering if it was worth it. He ached all over, but he knew he couldn’t let the Guv down. Gene had always taught him that the team was only as strong as its weakest part. Ray had just never expected that weak part to be him.
When he opened the door of the pub it was as if he was watching everyone from afar. It was so normal. The familiar smell and sounds, all the people he knew so well. Ray had spent more time in this pub than he had his flat, more time with these people than he ever had with his own family - but now he felt detached. He stood in the doorway, wondering if he was making a big mistake, but then it started. The round of applause that told him he had done the right thing. No one was smiling as they looked at him, and he wasn’t surprised. Whenever one of them hurt, they all did – he knew that. He had lost colleagues before, and whatever other feelings there were, he knew that it reminded everyone of their own vulnerability. He felt a heavy burden on his shoulders – he had to prove that he was okay.
He got to the bar and leant against it, holding it as best he could, trying to stop himself shaking. Chris and Annie were both talking to him, and he responded appropriately, feeling as if he was speaking from a rehearsed script. Of course he wanted to be back at work, he was a cop, he caught the bad guys. They didn’t beat him.
He took the drinks that were offered to him, but when he tried to lift the pint jar to his lips his hand was shaking so hard that the liquid spilled over the rim. He quickly replaced it on the bar, without taking a sip. Gene put a hand on his back and said something about heroes. Ray barely responded, so tight was the grip he had on his feelings. He doubted that heroes felt anything like he did inside.
It was late, and the pub was slowly emptying. Sam had gone hours ago, after another awkward apology. Ray had nodded and not said much. He knew, rationally, that Sam couldn’t have known what was going to happen. And whilst Ray wanted to blame Sam for the childish argument they had had, he knew that it was at least half his own fault.
Gene leant over Chris’s shoulder and spoke quietly.
“Make sure Ray gets home okay. Check he’s got everything he needs, all right?”
Chris nodded at the Guv. He was worried about Ray – he was normally the life and soul of the pub, telling stories and making everyone laugh. Tonight though, it was as if he was somewhere else. He wasn’t listening to anything anyone said, wasn’t responding. He’d only got through two or three pints, which was unheard of, especially as everyone was offering to buy for him.
Chris finished up his drink and walked to where Ray was sitting.
“Come on, mate,” he said gently. “I’ll see you home.”
It was normally the sort of offer that Ray would have answered with an insult, but he didn’t say a word, just nodded and stood up. He barely acknowledged the two men he had been sitting with as they bid him goodnight.
Chris steered him out of the door, nodding to Gene as the Guv gave him the thumbs up.
Chris walked slowly along next to Ray, wondering if he should offer a hand or anything, but he felt awkward, not being able to read Ray like he usually could, so stayed silent.
“You don’t have to come all the way,” Ray suddenly said. “It’s opposite direction to your place.”
Chris smiled. “’S all right, I don’t mind. ‘Sides, I promised the Guv…” he stopped, wondering if he should have said the last bit.
Ray didn’t respond though, so Chris shrugged it off.
He had never been inside Ray’s flat before, so when Ray opened the door and stood aside he stepped in with a little trepidation. He didn’t really know what to expect – Ray’s desk in CID was constantly overflowing with paperwork and evidence bags. The ashtray was never emptied until it needed excavating and Chris had watched with morbid fascination as various sandwiches and half-eaten pies had begun to form their own eco-systems in Ray’s out-tray. So it came as something of a surprise to find that the flat was clean and tidy, if a little sparse.
There was a battered old leather sofa and a matching armchair, both of them misshapen and scuffed, burn marks marring the arms where forgotten cigarettes had dropped from sleepy hands. There was also a small table and two chairs, near to the kitchen, which was split from the sitting room by a worktop. A television stood in the corner, next to some bookshelves, and, surprisingly, a row of pot plants were lined up on the windowsill.
Chris turned to Ray, feeling awkward. He noticed that Ray was struggling to remove his jacket, so Chris quickly stepped up and eased it from Ray’s shoulders.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, “I mean…do you need anything? Or…anything?” he finished awkwardly.
Ray didn’t answer, or turn around. Chris wondered if he hadn’t heard again - it seemed as if Ray had missed half of what was said to him during the evening.
“Mate?” Chris carefully dropped the jacket onto the back of one of the chairs, then put his hand on Ray’s back, trying to get the other man’s attention. He noticed the slight tremors running through Ray and froze, not knowing what to do.
“R…Ray? Mate?” he said softly.
“‘M fine,” Ray said, but his voice betrayed him. “Just go home.”
Chris stood still, knowing he couldn’t leave Ray, but he’d never had to deal with one of his mates crying before – and when birds cried he always passed them off onto someone else.
He tried to think about what other people did. His mum always used to give him a cuddle, so, at a loss of what else to do, he carefully turned Ray around and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Ray’s shoulders.
“What are you doing, you div?” Ray said, his breathing uneven, as he pushed Chris away. There was no venom in his tone though, and Chris knew that if Ray had really been angry his hands wouldn’t be lingering on Chris’s chest, they’d have been bunched into fists and probably giving him a black eye.
“You just…seemed like you needed it,” Chris shrugged.
Ray didn’t move for a moment, then slid his hands back around Chris’s waist. Chris held him, smelling a mix of antiseptic and smoke in Ray’s hair.
“Will you stay?” Ray asked, his voice very quiet.
Chris nodded immediately. “‘Course I will, mate.”
Ray nodded, then finally let go of Chris. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew that he didn’t want to be alone, and Chris was about the only person who he trusted not to take the piss.
“Your hair’s all full of dust still,” Chris said. “How about we get you a bit cleaner – make you feel better, that.”
Ray nodded. “Can’t get the stitches wet, they said,” he added as an afterthought, touching the large dressing on his neck.
“Well I’ll do it like me sister does me mum’s hair then, over the basin.”
Chris fetched one of the chairs from the dining table and set it under the washbasin, then fetched a pint glass from the kitchen. He felt better when he had something to do, although the way Ray was standing motionless in the living room was scaring him a bit. He was so used to Ray being in charge.
“Come on then, mate,” he guided Ray into the bathroom. “Get your shirt off and sit down.”
Chris leant over the bath and picked up the shampoo bottle, turning back to see that Ray was struggling with his shirt buttons, his bandaged hand awkward.
“Here,” he smiled, pushing Ray’s hands away. “Let me.” He carefully undid each button. When he got halfway down he looked up to check that Ray was okay with what he was doing. Ray’s blue eyes were staring straight at him. Chris gave a small smile. “Nearly there,” he said gently, quickly breaking eye contact.
Ray looked as if he was asleep on his feet, but he lifted his hands and cupped Chris’s face with them, forcing Chris to look at him.
“What? What?” Chris asked, laughing nervously.
Ray pulled Chris closer, leaning forward himself, and kissed Chris hard on the mouth.
Chris opened his mouth with surprise, trying to say something as he realised what was going to happen, then all he could taste was fags and whiskey as Ray slid his hands through Chris’s hair and held him tightly. He put his hands on Ray’s waist, almost overbalancing and holding Ray tightly. He didn’t know what to do, torn between pushing Ray away as he knew he should and kissing him back, as he had fantasised about doing for so many nights.
Ray broke the kiss suddenly, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, I’m…”
Chris was silent, his mouth hanging open. “No, no,” he felt flustered, not knowing what to say or do. He looked away, embarrassed, and continued undoing Ray’s shirt before pushing it off his shoulders, knowing that Ray was embarrassed too. He chose to ignore what had happened, almost wondering if he’d imagined it. “Sit down and tip yer head back,” he said, a little too brusquely. He tried not to look at Ray’s broad chest, now marred with cuts and bruises all over it. There were some patches of Elastoplast and more white dressings, and Chris guessed that under the dressings were probably stitches.
Chris scooped warm water over Ray’s hair, wetting it down, just as he’d seen his sister doing. Then he gently lathered up the shampoo, working it through, pulling out tangles in the curls around Ray’s neck. Occasionally Ray would wince or move slightly, his face screwing up with pain.
“Sorry,” Chris said.
“’S just bruises, it’s fine,” Ray answered.
Chris nodded, but under the soft hair he could feel the lump on the back of Ray’s skull where his head had hit the road. He was carefully to stop the water getting too near the large dressing on Ray’s neck, draping a towel over his shoulder and using it to dry up stray rivulets of water.
The shampoo was full of dirt and dust, and in some places tinged pink from the dried blood that had been in Ray’s hair. Chris washed it off and used a little more shampoo to do a final wash. The smell was pure Ray, and Chris breathed it in deeply. He didn’t think that Ray was asleep, although the other man hadn’t opened his eyes for some time.
There we are,” he announced. “All done.”
Ray sat up, wincing as his bruised back complained. Chris saw the movement and quickly put his arms around Ray’s shoulders, helping him up. He very gently rubbed the towel over Ray’s hair.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Chris asked.
Ray shook his head. “‘M tired.”
“I’m not surprised, mate,” Chris answered. “Come on, we’ll get you settled.”
As Ray walked away Chris got his first real look at Ray’s back – it was dark with bruises, especially across his shoulders.
Chris wondered what he would be doing if it were him that had been hurt. He couldn’t imagine possibly being out of hospital, let alone back at work. He knew Ray had the drive in him to do it though, he just worried that it was all too soon. Even if Ray’s body could cope, Chris wasn’t so sure about his mind.
But he knew that he would be there for Ray, whatever he needed. Unlike most of the others at the station, Chris had seen Ray’s softer more sensitive side. It had been Ray who had sat with Chris for the entire night after Chris had killed someone for the first time. Chris remembered crying for hours, unable to come to terms with what he had done. Ray hadn’t tried to make him feel better, or cheer him up, but he had sat with him and explained to Chris what had happened and why he had done the right thing.
The memory of finding out the man had died was still sharp in Chris’s mind. The phone call had come through from the hospital some hours after they had stopped the armed raid. Hunt had shouted at Chris from across the room, telling him that his man had died, and Chris had felt as if his entire world had come apart. He’d run away and locked himself in the toilet. Ray had known where to find him though, and in the end had coaxed him out and taken him away from the station, driven them out of the city, armed with some beers and a bottle of whiskey.
He’d found out a bit about Ray that night, too. Ray had told him about the day he’d first seen a man die, when he was just fourteen and a docker had been crushed to death in front of him. Ray spoke about the guilt he’d felt at being unable to help, watching the man’s life drain away right in front of him. And looking back Chris now wished he had offered Ray more support, but at the time he had been too wrapped up in his own emotions. Chris had had the feeling that Ray had probably never spoken to anyone else about it, and hadn’t been surprised to see the brightness of unshed tears in Ray’s eyes. Neither of them had ever spoken about either incident again.
Now Chris wondered why Ray had come after him that day. He thought perhaps that Ray had always had feelings for him, but had never expressed them before. He also knew that he couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. As soon as Ray was in a more stable state, Chris knew that he would have to ask, because he couldn’t bear the thought of something he wanted so desperately to be lost because he was too afraid to speak up and break the social taboos.
By the time Chris had dried the bathroom up where he had splashed water and put away the beer mug he’d been using, Ray had changed into a pair of pyjama trousers and was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head resting on his hands.
“You okay?” Chris asked.
Ray nodded. “Took some painkillers, it’ll be right in a minute.”
“‘Ave you got a blanket or something?” Chris asked.
Ray looked up. “What?”
“For me to kip on the sofa…I thought you might have a spare blanket,” Chris answered, feeling awkward again.
“There’s room in here with me,” Ray answered, waving a hand at the large double bed. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything again – I promise.”
Chris shook his head. “No – I mean, I don’t mind, I…” he didn’t know what to say, so he shut up, walking in to the room and pulling his jumper off, then undoing his shirt and trousers, until he had stripped down to his pants. There was indeed plenty of room for both of them in the bed, and Chris watched as Ray flicked a switch on his alarm clock and settled down, his back turned to Chris. He shifted about for a minute, and Chris knew that it must be hard to find a comfortable position.
“Night,” Chris said softly, lying on his side so he could just see the silhouette of Ray’s form under the blankets.
“Night,” Ray answered, sounding almost asleep already.
Chris lay in silence, listening to the steady breathing from the other side of the bed, along with the other noises around the block of flats as people settled for the night. The plumbing clanked and hissed and people moved around. The odd car was audible in the street below them, but everything seemed peaceful enough. He wondered what they would be doing now if Ray had been killed, if the entire force would still be working, trying to find the bomber. He found it too awful to think about though. There was no one else in the department who he felt he could work with in the same way. He felt a great responsibility to protect Ray whilst he was down, and sleep didn’t come easily to him.
He awoke to a sound and immediately adrenaline coursed through his veins. He lay, eyes wide open, trying to work out what had woken him.
Then he heard it again – a soft noise, as if someone was very scared. He moved across the bed, reaching out to touch Ray, but scared of waking him. He put his hand gently on Ray’s arm.
“It’s all right, mate, you’re all right,” he said softly, his voice sounding loud in the quiet of the night.
Ray stilled under his touch, and quietened for a moment. Chris settled back down, his hand still on Ray, hoping that the touch would be calming. It wasn’t long before Ray was moving again though, obviously tormented by his dreams. Chris moved closer, trying to remember what his mother had done when he had had nightmares as a child.
He remembered her holding him close, protecting him and talking to him in a soothing voice. So gingerly he moved closer to Ray, wrapping his arm around Ray’s waist and using the other to gently stroke down his back. He kept repeating that Ray was safe and that everything was all right. After a while Ray turned over, moving closer to Chris and sleepily laying his own arm over Chris.
Ray’s head ended up almost on Chris’s shoulder, so despite his arm going to sleep, Chris continued to soothe him and stoke his fingers through the long hair.
Ray woke early the next morning, the throbbing pain as the stitches in his neck pulled making him shift a little, which seemed to set off a cascade of other aches and pains. Then he became aware that whatever he was resting on was also moving – a gentle rhythm rising and falling. He opened his eyes to see Chris’s chest, and as he worked out where the rest of his body was he realised that somehow, in the night, he had tangled himself up with Chris – his head ending up almost under Chris’s chin, his arms wrapped around the slim body. Chris was equally cuddled, his arms both around Ray, one hand in Ray’s hair.
Ray debated moving or waking Chris up, but then thought better of it. He felt so comfortable and so safe that he never wanted to move. He wondered how they had ended up in his bed, but he wasn’t complaining, he just wanted to know how one of his fantasies had suddenly become a reality, and was amazed that apparently, Chris was happy with the state of affairs. At least he seemed to be. There was no telling what would happen when he woke up.
Ray stroked his fingers lightly over Chris’s smooth milky-white stomach. He knew he’d have to move soon, his bladder protesting at each small movement he made, but he was loathe to give up a moment he wasn’t sure he’d ever get again.
Chris tried to shift to rid himself of a tickle on his stomach, but found he couldn’t move either of his arms. His right one, it seemed, wasn’t even attached to his body anymore – there was just a strange heavy feeling of numbness.
He wondered if it would soon be time to get up, and, remembering where he was, knew he should be up early to help Ray and hopefully stop off at his own house for a change of clothes.
Then he became aware that the blankets had become very heavy. And warm. And were stroking his stomach. He opened his eyes, blinking as sleep blurred his vision.
Ray was definitely stroking his stomach. And cuddling him. And, apparently, cutting off the blood supply to his right arm.
“C’n you get off me?” he mumbled sleepily.
Ray jumped at the voice; he had been completely unaware that Chris was awake. His stitches in his neck and stomach pulled and he winced, swearing.
“Sorry,” he muttered, quickly sitting up.
“I just need me arm back is all,” Chris explained, feeling a surge of pins and needles as Ray moved off his squashed appendage. “You can stay where you are, otherwise.”
Ray looked surprised. “Really?”
Chris nodded. “It were nice.”
Ray shook his head, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Need a piss, anyway,” he explained before standing up unsteadily as his entire body protested. “Be back in a sec.”
Chris nodded, pulling the blanket over him as he missed the warmth of Ray’s body. He had no idea why he felt so comfortable in another man’s bed, sleeping with someone of the wrong sex. He tried to imagine himself being gay and all he could conjure up was some pantomime image of himself as a lisping limp-wristed fairy. When he applied the same image to Ray he almost laughed out loud.
Ray was back within minutes, moving stiffly, obviously in pain.
Chris lifted the blankets, welcoming Ray back under them.
“What are we doing?” Ray asked as he settled back into Chris’s embrace.
“Cuddling,” Chris answered.
Ray was silent, unable to argue the point. “I meant,” he continued, re-thinking what he was trying to say. “We’re not poofs.”
Chris nodded. “I know.”
“Oh.” Ray slid his hand over Chris’s thigh, and could feel his own body react to the almost-intimate touch. “Good.”
The alarm interrupted them before Chris could start to really enjoy what Ray was doing. They both got up, awkwardly working around each other, Chris helping Ray to do up his shirt buttons and batting Ray’s hands away as he struggled to knot Ray’s tie, becoming confused at trying to do it as a mirror image. “Div,” Ray murmured as Chris messed the knot up for the third time. Chris grinned widely, knowing that Ray was teasing him.
“Still doing a better job than you were,” he answered.
Ray made them both tea whilst Chris quickly washed, and when Chris emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around him, Ray handed him the mug of tea and a freshly lit cigarette.
“Can we stop at mine?” Chris asked. “I need some clean pants and a change of shirt.”
Ray nodded. “Course. Someone dropped my motor off yesterday. You can drive. Not sure I’m up to it.”
Chris nodded, surprised that Ray would admit such a thing.
“Are you sure you should be coming to work?” Chris asked, concerned.
The look Ray gave him was enough of an answer.
Chris ran into his parents’ house, trying to undo his shirt buttons as he ran up to his room. His mum looked out from the kitchen as he thumped up the stairs.
“Christopher?” She called. “Do you want some tea? And where’ve you been? You know you’re to call if you’re going to be out all night.”
“I’ve not got time for tea, mum,” Chris called back, falling over as he tried to kick off his shoes whilst he pushed his arms into a clean shirt.
“Where’ve you been? Is it about this bomb? Is it the IRA like everyone’s saying? They said a policeman had been hurt.”
“It were Ray. I mean, he got caught in the bomb. But he’s okay, I just stayed at his last night, to help out, like,” Chris shouted back.
“It was Ray?” Chris’s mother came up the stairs and stood by his bedroom doorway. “They made it sound really bad, on the radio.”
She had never met Ray Carling, but she knew the name. From the first day that Chris had worked in CID all of his conversation had been about DS Carling and DCI Hunt – and, more recently, a DI Tyler, too. She knew that Chris worked with Ray most days, and immediately her heart clenched a little at the thought that it could have been her baby who was caught in the blast.
“You’re all right though, ain’t you?” she asked, worried.
Chris pulled open the door, then sat back on his bed whilst he pulled his shoes back on. “Fine. It was just Ray, he got hurt pretty bad and I thought he better not be on his own is all.”
“He’s okay now, though?”
Chris shrugged. “I might stay over a few more nights – I dunno. It’s hard for him to do stuff – he hurt one of his hands and that.”
Chris’s mother nodded. “If either of you need anything – a decent meal or owt, he’s welcome to come here, you know that.”
Chris smiled and nodded. “Thanks, mum.” Although he knew that Ray would never agree to any such thing. Chris wasn’t sure, but he thought that Ray would probably rather face down any number of armed robbers than sit down to a family dinner.
It was barely four hours later that Chris was wondering if Ray would ever get to sit down to a dinner again. If Chris hadn’t been frozen to the spot, he would have thrown up. Miller was pressing the gun into Ray’s head and the Guv was just making the situation worse. Chris wanted to run forward, to grab Ray and get him away from the bastard who was trying to hurt him – to kill him. But he couldn’t. All he could do was watch, and it felt as if his insides were being eaten away, knowing that he might lose the most precious thing he had ever had – something he had only just found. Ray might die without them ever having another night together. He might lose his life for no reason, in this Godforsaken cold damp cave of a place.
Then Tyler managed it, finally ended it without any more bloodshed. As soon as the gun left Miller’s hand tears began to fall down Chris’s face. He felt as if there was no strength left in his body.
Everyone was filtering out of the dark underground chamber, the Boss and the Guv manhandling Miller, Annie following. Chris turned to Ray and could see the physical effort it was taking for the other man to pull himself together.
Chris held out his hand and a moment later Ray took it, sliding his fingers in between Chris’s and holding on tightly. Chris dragged Ray closer, glancing around and checking that they were alone, then wrapped his arms around Ray as tightly as he could and held him. He could feel the shuddering breaths as Ray cried and Chris couldn’t help himself but sob too. He dug his fingers into Ray’s jacket, gripping the cloth so hard it hurt. Finally he released his hold, pushing Ray away so that he could see his face in the gloom.
Ray looked drained, his blue eyes glassy with fatigue. Neither of them had spoken, and no words needed to be said. Ray slid his hand around Chris’s neck, the bandage rough against Chris’s soft skin, and pulled him close, kissing him hard, tasting the salty tears on Chris’s skin, then resting his forehead against Chris’s.
There was a shout from somewhere in the complex. “Carling! Skelton! Get back ‘ere, now!”
Ray gave Chris a small grin, both of them understanding that their moment was over for now and they needed to put back the professional façade.
“C’mon.” Ray pulled Chris towards the exit, their hands still joined. “We can finish this later.”
Chris nodded, now safe in the knowledge that there would be a ‘later’.
Ray sat in the pub, happily pissed. His top pocket bulged with the money the department had collected for him, all his friends were around him and everyone was in good cheer. He kept stealing glances at Chris, who was also well on the way to being drunk. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was lucky enough to have fallen in love with someone who actually loved him back, even if it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship. He looked around the pub, looking at all his other colleagues. Most of them were married and those that weren’t remained single for good reason, in his opinion.
There had been times when he’d thought about exactly where his life was heading. There had been girls who he knew would have walked up the aisle for him, but he’d never felt the same way about any of them. He knew a policeman’s life was never his own and he’d seen too many marriages turned bitter by the long and unpredictable hours, just as he’d seen enough single policemen turned bitter for the very same reason. Most of them ended up finding solace in the bottom of a bottle, and Ray had been all too aware that he could follow that same path.
Except now he had Chris. Suddenly he felt as if a part of him that he didn’t even know was missing had been given to him. He wanted to stand up and shout it out to the whole pub. But that threw up whole new problems. He had Chris, and despite being happier than he had probably ever been before, he couldn’t tell a soul. He stared into his pint glass, feeling slightly cheated by the world.
A hand on his arm brought him back to the present. He looked up, his eyes seeming to lag a few seconds behind his brain as the fuzz of alcohol formed a barrier between him and everything else.
“C’mon, mate,” Chris says, looking none too steady on his feet himself.
Ray nods and downs the rest of his pint in one. His eyelids are heavy, as are his limbs. He stands up, but can’t organise his aching body into putting his jacket on. Chris is there though, holding out the sleeves and sorting him out. Ray grunts his thanks and wonders what the two of them look like to everyone else.
There was no question as they began to walk towards Ray’s place. Chris knew he had a dopey smile on his face, but he couldn’t stop. He was walking home – to a place he’d only been once before – but nevertheless his home. Ray seemed a lot better, he’d been moving more easily, smiling more and seeming at ease in the Railway. Although Chris had also watched the volume of tablets that Ray had consumed over the course of the day with a slight niggle of worry. He wished that the Guv didn’t make it so obvious that he thought Ray was fine, because Chris knew that Ray would never argue with Gene and was eager to prove that he was okay.
Ray glanced sideways at Chris as they approached the block of flats. Chris was looking back at him, a big soppy grin plastered over his face, hair flopping into his eyes.
“Wha’?” Ray asked, wondering if Chris was laughing at him for some reason.
“‘M just happy,” Chris answered. “Thought I might lose you today, an’ I didn’t, an’…’s just good is all.”
Ray shook his head. “Div,” he said, laughing.
“Wanker,” Chris replied, giggling.
Ray stood aside as they reached the bottom of the concrete stairs, waving an arm to invite Chris forward. “Ladies first,” he said, as Chris walked past him.
Chris giggled some more. “Pillock.”
Ray followed Chris up the stairs, his eyes firmly on Chris’s tight backside. As they reached a flight that was in darkness, vandals having smashed all the lights, Ray slid his hand between Chris’s legs, groping his bollocks. Chris squeaked and spun around.
“What’re you doin’?” he laughed, slapping at Ray’s hand.
“You wave yer arse in my face like that an’ expect me not to touch?” Ray kept walking, forcing Chris back into the wall.
“Ray! Not here,” Chris looked around, his eyes slightly wild.
“Why not?” Ray pushed his own body against Chris’s so they were touching from chest to knee.
“Someone might come,” Chris whispered.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Ray smirked, thrusting his groin into Chris.
The look on Chris’s face was so comical that Ray couldn’t keep the act up and burst out laughing. Chris stood still and silent for a moment, trying to work out what had just happened, then started giggling again too.
“Should’a seen your face,” Ray managed. “It were priceless.”
Chris pushed Ray away, trying to be grumpy, but failing. “Bastard fucking wanker.”
Ray reached to Chris and grabbed his bum, pulling him close again. “All of them and worse,” he nodded. “Now get upstairs.”
Chris gestured for Ray to go first, wary of being groped again, and once the other man was climbing the stairs he had to admit that the view was very nice.
Ray unlocked his front door and shouldered it open, staggering slightly. Chris carefully closed it behind them, noticing that Ray was heading straight for the bathroom.
“There’s bread in the cupboard,” Ray called from where he was having a piss, the bathroom door wide open still. “You can make us some toast.”
Chris grinned, feeling hungry too. He went off to discover the contents of Ray’s kitchen, shedding his jacket onto one of the chairs. Ray walked up behind him as he was standing at the worktop, sliding his hands around Chris’s waist. He leant into Chris and nuzzled into his hair, breathing into Chris’s ear.
“Gerroff tickling, would you?” Chris tried to escape, twisting around in Ray’s arms.
Ray pressed Chris back against the worktop, gently, then kissed him. Chris responded eagerly, but there was none of the urgency he expected. Ray just planted lots of small soft kisses on Chris’s lips.
Chris lifted his hand to Ray’s face, touching the grazes and cuts on his cheekbone, then rubbing his thumb over the stitches above Ray’s eye.
“Does it ‘urt?” he asked, standing on tip toes and kissing Ray’s cheekbone, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ray shrugged. “‘S okay.”
Chris span around as he smelt burning and grabbed the grill pan from under the grill. He grinned sheepishly at Ray. “D’you mind it a bit burnt?”
Ray shook his head, trailing a hand over Chris’s back.
They stood shoulder to shoulder buttering their toast, Ray scooping marmite out of the pot and spreading it thickly onto his toast whilst Chris pulled a face.
Ray leant back against the worktop, chewing, watching as Chris half-concentrated on eating and half on tidying things away.
“Do you mind if I call me mum?” Chris asked. “She don’t like it when I’m out all night and haven’t called.”
Ray tried not to listen in on the telephone conversation, busying himself tidying the kitchen and then heading for the bedroom. He sank down onto the bed, dog tired, and kicked off his shoes. He heard Chris still talking in the living room, so, just for a moment, he lay back and closed his eyes, waiting for the younger man.
Chris hung up the receiver, having convinced his mum that everyone was fine and told her a little bit about his day. He walked into the bedroom to see Ray still fully clothed, flat on his back, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, fast asleep. Chris approached him quietly and reached to gently undo his tie. Ray awoke, but didn’t move, staring sleepily up at Chris.
Chris smiled. “Sleepyhead,” he accused.
“Wasn’t. Was just restin’.”
Chris removed the tie and threw it on the floor behind him, then started on the buttons on Ray’s shirt, pushing the fabric back and planting kisses on Ray’s chest.
Ray closed his eyes again, enjoying the feel of Chris’s lips on his skin, feeling Chris’s long fringe tickling his stomach as Chris gently kissed each cut or scrape.
Then Chris moved and Ray felt his belt being tugged on as the buckle was undone. He moved his arms behind his head, watching Chris through half-closed eyes as the younger man continued to undress him. Chris smiled up to Ray. “C’mon, move or I can’t get your trousers off.”
Ray reluctantly sat up and shed the rest of his clothes, pulling Chris close and holding him. The feel of Chris’s clothes against his own naked skin sent a buzz of excitement through Ray, but he knew he was in no state to do anything about it.
“Bed,” he murmured into Chris’s ear.
Chris nodded, quickly shedding his own clothes as Ray pulled the blankets back. He climbed into bed and was immediately surrounded by Ray’s strong arms. Chris smiled and squirmed even closer, so his entire body was pressed against Ray’s. He felt so safe, wrapped up in Ray, as if nothing could ever touch them.
Ray held Chris tightly. Although Chris was slim, he was muscular and it felt odd to be holding a body that was all bones and muscles after so many nights of having a woman in his bed. It also felt like the most natural thing in the world though. Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with someone that he hadn’t just had sex with. But there was none of that pressure with Chris. Whilst it didn’t always make him an ideal copper, Ray now welcomed Chris’s easy acceptance of other people. He gave Chris a kiss on the top of his head, settling down into the bed further, trying to ignore the myriad of aches and pains he still felt.
The building was quiet. A cavernous structure, now empty, with only a few broken and rusted machines to show that it had ever had a purpose. Ray turned around, trying to remember why he had come here. There was something…in the back of his mind, he knew there was a reason. He heard a noise and turned. Chris was walking towards him, looking at something in his hand. Ray didn’t remember Chris being with him, but they were obviously working. Ray began to walk toward Chris, to ask him what he’d found, when suddenly an explosion ripped through the air. He saw Chris’s startled expression a split second before the orange ball of fire engulfed him. Ray tried to run, tried to shout, but the wall of hot air held him back like a huge heavy blanket, preventing him from moving. He watched as Chris’s body was flung aside, and still he couldn’t move. Finally the fireball dispersed, leaving just smoke and debris in its wake. And Ray could move. He ran forward, but Chris was nowhere to be seen. He started shouting, searching frantically, but there was nothing, no sign of there ever having been anyone else there. Then a voice made him turn. Tyler was standing in the doorway, holding Chris by the front of his collar in one hand, the rest of him dragging on the ground, as if he were a child’s toy. Chris’s head was lolling about, his eyes open, staring lifelessly at Ray.
Tyler was laughing, pointing at Ray and laughing. Then he turned to walk away, Chris’s legs dragging along the floor, Tyler carrying him easily.
Ray began to run, but so did Tyler, leading them deeper into the factory. And Ray could see Chris’s mouth moving. Mouthing words. ‘Help me’, he was saying, and Ray was trying, but however fast he ran he couldn’t get any closer.
And then the air raid siren began to go off, the distinctive ‘crump’ of bombs falling sounded close by. Ray screamed at Tyler, knowing that they weren’t safe in the factory.
“Ray!” Chris shouted, as Tyler seemed to be getting away from him. “RAY!”
And something was pulling at Ray’s arm, holding him back just when he needed to get away the most.
“RAY!”
And suddenly he was in darkness, and he wasn’t running. But Chris was still shouting his name. He lay, his eyes open, staring up at nothing, seeing the orange glow of the streetlights on his ceiling.
“You were ‘aving a bad dream, mate,” Chris said, propped up on one elbow, one arm across Ray’s chest, holding his arm, obviously having shaken him awake.
Ray nodded, the images still vivid in his mind.
“Want to talk about it?” Chris offered, letting go of Ray’s arm.
Ray shook his head. He could feel the sweat on his skin, and his heart was still beating wildly, as if he really had been running. He took Chris in his arms and pulled him down so that Chris’s head was resting on his chest. Chris slid his arm over Ray’s waist. His ear was pressed against Ray’s chest and he could feel Ray still shaking.
Ray felt Chris’s body relax, resting heavily across him, the dead weight and the rise and fall of Chris’s chest under his hand reassuring. Ray lay awake until dawn, finally slipping out from under Chris’s sleeping body at about half past five. He felt like shit, a combination of the alcohol of the night before and the lack of sleep.
He washed as best he could, trying to avoid most of the bandages and stitches, then dressed and made himself a strong coffee and stood out on the walkway drinking it in the pale morning sun, smoking his first cigarette of the day.
Eventually he made his way back indoors and went back to the bedroom. Chris was sprawled across the bed, taking up every inch of space, his hair flopped across his face and one arms wrapped tightly around a spare pillow. Ray sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the hair out of Chris’s eyes, then trailed his fingers down Chris’s back.
“C’mon, wake up,” he said softly.
Chris didn’t move, and Ray smiled, wishing he didn’t have to wake him.
“Chris, time to get up,” he shook Chris’s arm.
“Mmmnnno,” Chris mumbled. “J’s bit longer.”
“We’ve got to get to work,” Ray answered.
“C’m’ere,” Chris flailed about with his arm, trying to find Ray without opening his eyes. When it was clear that the bed was empty he finally cracked open one eye. Seeing Ray was fully dressed and sitting up, Chris moved. “When d’you get up?” he asked, feeling cheated out of his morning cuddle.
“A while ago, when you were still dead to the world,” Ray answered. “Get in the bathroom, cos we need to get to your place on the way in.”
Chris scowled. “You ‘ad a nightmare last night,” he remembered.
Ray turned away, getting up. “I know. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Chris sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don’t mind. What was it about? You wouldn’t say.”
Ray shrugged, not about to tell Chris. “Nothing in particular. I’ll make you tea.”
To Be Continued....
Part Two