Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ray’s never been too particular about who he works with. From his days soloing as a sniper to his past few years in the crew, he's ended up partnered with all manner of weirdos, psychos, and idiots (the last mostly on the list by virtue of working with Gavin), and he's never had a problem with any of them.

That changed when the Vagabond was brought on as an extra man for a heist. The whole of Los Santos knew about the Vagabond in the same way that they knew about the Fakes- he was dangerous, a lone wolf that sold his services to whoever could flash the most cash at him. Nearly every hugely successful heist, murder, or act of major destruction in the past year had been carried out with the help of the Vagabond. It made sense why Geoff would bring him on- the crew had been growing, and a bigger crew meant bigger jobs. Keeping the Vagabond under his thumb would not only reduce competition, but also help their influence and ability to terrorize the city grow.

Ray wasn't qualified to be boss by any means, but he could still see Geoff’s reasoning. It made perfect sense to bring on another crew member, even an impermanent one, to help out. Of course, that didn't mean Ray had to be happy about it.

He wasn't sure what it was about the guy that rubbed him the wrong way. The Vagabond was excellent in the field, and he and Ray actually worked very well together, but regardless, Ray didn't like him at all. Maybe it was the skull mask and lack of speech that put him off, but if Ray was being honest, he had worked with weirder in the past. It could be his violent tendencies and penchant for… well, creative murders, but Michael was just as violent, and the whole crew got creative every once in awhile.

Whatever it was, it gave Ray a feeling of unease and dislike whenever he was around the Vagabond. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one who felt it, as Geoff kept inviting the creepy bastard back to take on jobs, and the others had started to include him in post-heist celebrations and the creation of teams (why he and Gavin were Love ‘n’ Stuff, Ray wasn't sure he wanted to know). As much as he wasn't a fan, the Vagabond was slowly becoming a part of the crew. There had been whispers among the Lads that he had even agreed to the heist they were currently planning without charging his usual fee.

Like him or not, the Vagabond was on his way to being a permanent fixture in the crew. Ray was pretty firmly on the side of not, but he was far outnumbered by the crew. For the time being, all he could do was grin and bear it, and hope that he didn't have to deal with the Vagabond for any longer than their jobs lasted. At least that bit would probably be easy- the guy hardly ever stuck around after a job was done. He would stay for the bevs after a successful heist (not that he drank anything, preferring to sit silently in a corner while the others partied) and then fuck off to wherever he lived until the next time Geoff called him in.

The job they were planning was pretty simple; a warehouse raid on a rival gang. Of course, the crew had to make it as complex and grandiose as possible, which meant a whole week of mostly unnecessary planning. Ray was the one to kick it all off with an all-day rooftop stakeout of the warehouse. Not his favorite job, or the most exciting, but at least he wouldn't have to be in the planning room with the Vagabond all day. He would take sitting on a cold roof over being near the creepy bastard any day.

Ray knew that eventually he would have to get over his hang up with working with the Vagabond, but eventually wasn't now, so he was more than happy to get away for a day. Besides, they could work together fine when they had to, and that was all that really mattered. Even if he tried as hard as he could, Ray suspected that he would never really be able to enjoy the company of the Vagabond. And, judging by the way the guy stared at him with cold eyes behind his dark mask, the feeling was absolutely mutual.

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The shrill sounds of Ray’s alarm greeted him the next morning, waking him up to a still-dark room and a quiet apartment. Ray rolled over to sleepily glare at the clock, the bright green numbers showing the time as 5:30 in the morning. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, his other hand clumsily turning off the alarm. Once the noise stopped, Ray sighed heavily before struggling his way out of bed, going through the motions of his morning routine without much enthusiasm.

Geoff sometimes joked that one of the perks of being criminals was avoiding the early hours and full days of an office job. Ray would agree, except for the fact that he was currently up at 5:47 on a Monday, pulling on his jacket and beanie and hefting the bag holding his sniper rifle onto his back before heading out the door. It was cold, as he expected a fall morning to be, and Ray buried his hands deep in his pockets as he headed towards the warehouse.

A few blocks down, the smell of coffee stopped Ray in his tracks. He hadn't eaten before leaving- Jack was always scolding him for not taking care of himself- and he felt his stomach growl in response to the rich aroma. His phone read 6:02, and he figured he had enough time to grab a cup of coffee before taking his place on the roof all day. It wasn't like Geoff would know, anyway. As long as he came back with the information they needed- which he would, he always did- it wouldn't matter if he got there in the next five minutes or the next ten.

Mind made up, Ray crossed the street to where a small coffee shop sat. He had seen it before, passed it on his way to other places, but had never stopped inside. As he neared the door, he could see that the open sign wasn't on, and a glance into the window showed a lone man taking chairs down from the tables. Ray was about to turn and leave when the man looked up, meeting his eyes through the glass. He smiled and pointed at the door, tilting his head in a silent question. Ray nodded, moving over to the door as the man did the same and unlocked it from the inside.

“Thanks,” Ray said as he pushed through the door, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he stepped into the cafe. The man flashed another smile, heading over to the counter and tapping a few buttons on the register to start it up.

“No problem,” he replied. Now that Ray was closer, he could see that the man’s name tag read ‘Ryan’. It was a habit for Ray to size people up, one he picked up from his line of work, but this was just a bit different. Ryan was tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy blonde hair that fell in waves above bright blue eyes. Somehow, Ray felt a lot more awake just by looking at him. Between his general appearance and the warm smile he had given Ray at the window, he was definitely an attractive man.

Since Ray was distracted by his assessment of Ryan, he didn't realize Ryan was speaking until he was halfway through his sentence. He quickly tuned back in, managing to catch the rest of Ryan's comment.

“-this early. We do open at six, technically, but our first customers normally roll in around 6:30.”

Ray almost felt embarrassed, and just as soon felt embarrassed for feeling embarrassed. Really, he was a criminal, part of the most powerful crew in Los Santos. He shouldn't be letting some asshole barista fluster him so easily, even if he did have nice eyes and a dazzling smile.

But here he was, tongue practically hanging out of his mouth while he stared at the guy. He hadn't dated anyone for years, true, but it should still take more than a pretty face to stop him in his tracks.

Ray reigned his thoughts in once again, trying to focus on keeping up a conversation. “Oh, uh… Sorry?”

Ryan laughed, briefly and genuinely, and Ray would swear later that he would have done anything in that moment to hear that sound again. He was so fucked.

“No, it's no trouble. It's actually kind of nice to have someone in this early,” Ryan assured him. “Makes the job a lot more interesting.”

Ray could only smile, even as his mind was working at a million miles an hour trying to figure out if Ryan was flirting. Was that how people flirted? Did Ray want it to be flirting? He had only just met Ryan, and already he was wanting to flirt with the guy. What a pathetic piece of shit he was.

His train of thought was interrupted by Ryan, who was talking again. Ray didn't catch the whole thing, but he was pretty sure the word ‘drink’ had been in there. Fuck. Ryan wanted his order. Ray had almost completely forgotten that he had come in here for coffee. Not only that, but he still had places to be, as much as he wanted to stay and chat.

Ray didn't bother looking at the menu, instead asking Ryan for, “Whatever has the most sugar and caffeine in it. Large, please.” Ryan nodded and typed in the order, fixing the drink while Ray swiped his card. A few seconds later, Ryan returned to the register, handing over the coffee and glancing at the receipt before handing that to Ray as well.

Ray mumbled a ‘thanks,’ stuffing the receipt in his pocket and wishing he had some way to prolong the interaction between him and Ryan. His phone told him it was 6:12, though, so he really had to get going.

Ryan smiled at him again, gesturing to the pocket where Ray had put the receipt. “It's Ray, right? That's what it said on your card, is that what you go by?”

The question caught Ray off guard, and he fumbled for a second before finding the right words. “Uh, yeah. Yup. That's me. And you're Ryan? Because of the name tag?”

Ryan nodded, seeming pleased that Ray had noticed. “I don't want to keep you- just wanted to make sure I had your name right. Have a good day, Ray.”

Ray managed to get out a smile and a “You too, Ryan,” before all but racing out the door, not slowing his pace until he was a good block and a half away. Fucking christ, he was a mess. He kept thinking of Ryan all the way to his post, cursing himself for being such an idiot and falling all over himself for some guy he barely interacted with.

Of course, it didn't help that when he got there, he went to take a sip of coffee only to see a little drawing on the lid, done quickly in sharpie but recognizable all the same. It was a cartoonish portrait of Ray, beanie and all. He was smiling and holding a cup of coffee in a stick hand, and Ray was absolutely smitten. On top of that, the coffee was absolutely perfect- hot and sweet and strong, and Ray tried very hard not to draw parallels.

For the rest of the day, Ryan occupied Ray’s thoughts. Even long after the coffee was finished, the cup thrown out (but the lid hidden away in a pocket), and the information on the warehouse gathered, Ray was still thinking of him. Maybe if he went back the next day, he reasoned, he would realize how stupid it was to be pining over this guy. Surely Ryan wasn't so great. Ray had just been tired, and Ryan had been at least moderately attractive. That was all.

Ray ended his day with a firm plan for the next; he would go see Ryan again, this time later in the day. That way he would be more alert, and less susceptible to Ryan's charm. Then maybe Ray could get him out of his head and focus again. Just one more visit would do it.

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One more visit did not do it. Ray learned very quickly that Ryan was just as appealing in the afternoon as he was in the morning. In fact, Ryan was even better the second day, his face lighting up when he saw Ray walk in and his tone friendly as he asked how Ray had been the day before, if the coffee was strong enough and such. Ray managed to get out some semblance of a response before ordering, taking his drink (what it was he wasn’t sure- he had just blurted out the first thing he saw on the menu) to a corner table and pretending to do something on his phone while covertly watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye. Surely, if Ray waited long enough, he would see something to change his opinion of Ryan, some flaw or fault that would poke a hole in his stupid infatuation.

But no, Ryan remained perfect throughout Ray’s surveillance. He handled customers and coworkers alike with easy humor and kindness, getting orders out quickly, accurately, and always with a smile and a kind word. It wasn’t long before Ray found himself staring, just watching Ryan interact with the people at the counter and wishing he had the nerve to go back up there and strike up a conversation.

Ray was so focused on staring while trying to not look like he was that he somehow didn’t notice Ryan leaving the counter until he was standing right in front of him, two drinks in hand and a smile on his face.

“Ray, hi. Mind if I sit?”

It took a moment for Ray to bring his brain back online, shaking his head no and smiling back. There was a slight pause before Ryan slid one of the steaming cups across the table, looking almost sheepish as he did.

“I, uh, noticed you didn’t really drink your coffee. I wasn’t sure if you didn’t like it, if I had done something wrong, y’know, so I thought since I’m on break now I could make you something different. This one’s more like what you got yesterday. I mean, you might not have liked that either, but I figured it was worth a try.”

Ray’s smile grew as he took the cup and fought off a blush. By this point, he had more or less accepted his high level of fucked-ness, and figured he might as well accept Ryan’s attempts at friendship rather than sit and pine from afar forever.

“Thanks, man. And your coffee is great- or, it was yesterday. Not that this one wasn’t-” here Ray gestured to his original cup of coffee, now cold- “I just didn’t try it. Got caught up in… uh… " don't say you, do not say you, "...thinking, I guess. Forgot it was there.”

Ryan looked relieved at Ray’s words, taking a sip of his own drink before responding. “That’s good. I would hate to think that I fucked up your day by starting it off with shitty coffee so early in the morning.”

Ray laughed, mirroring Ryan and cursing that he was such a talented barista as well as being so damn charming. It didn’t make his life any easier, that was for sure. “Nah, you actually made it better. Had to get up earlier than usual for work, and the coffee definitely helped me through the longer day.”

“Ah, I feel that. Of course, my line of work calls for early starts.” Ryan waved a hand to indicate the coffee shop, the complaint made good-natured by a grin. “I don’t really mind, though. It’s worth it to get to help people out like I did for you yesterday.”

“My hero,” Ray deadpanned, faking a swoon. Ryan laughed at that, and Ray felt his heart swell at the sound.

“I do what I can,” Ryan replied, looking appropriately humble. “If you don’t mind my asking, where do you work? I haven’t seen you around the shop before.”

Ray had a brief moment of panic trying to come up with a suitable lie. He couldn’t just tell Ryan that he was a sniper in the most dangerous crew in Los Santos. That would kill any chance he may get quicker than anything. After a second of consideration, he settled on what he figured would be a safe response.

“I freelance. You know, like computers and stuff. I had a client who needed my help and decided that they could only have me over at the crack of fucking dawn.”

Ryan nodded sympathetically, taking another drink before responding. “That’s rough. I used to do a bit of freelancing myself, a few years back. Clients can be absolute hell sometimes, but at least they pay you for putting up with their bullshit.”

Ray just nodded, making an affirmative noise and hiding his relief behind his coffee. Hopefully Ryan would leave it at that for the time being, at least until Ray could ask Gavin about the computer work he did.

Some higher power must have been listening, because Ryan changed the subject, telling a story about one of his coworkers and how they had dealt with a particularly vicious customer a few weeks back. Ray was practically in tears by the time Ryan had finished, and the conversation took off from there. Ray couldn’t have said later what all they talked about, as he ended up staying for hours just chatting about anything and everything. He even moved up to a table near the counter once Ryan’s break was over so they could talk in between customers. It was easy for Ray to lose track of time, and he did, only noticing it was getting late when a line of customers broke up the conversation long enough for him to look at his phone.

5:45. Shit. Geoff had a heist meeting planned for six, and the apartment was far enough away that Ray would really have to book it to get back in time, and that was if he left immediately. He wanted to keep talking to Ryan, much more than he wanted to go to a meeting, but Geoff had specified that the whole crew was to be in attendance. Of course, that meant the Vagabond as well, which just gave Ray more reasons to not want to go.

Still, business was business, and there were only a few days until the heist. That made the meeting important enough to give up good company for, much as it pained Ray to make that choice. He stood from the table and slipped to the side of the counter, trying to catch Ryan’s eye and motion him over. It took a minute, but he got the message, asking the shorter of his two coworkers to cover the register for him and heading over to join Ray.

“Sorry man, I’ve gotta head out. I have a meeting at six, and I don’t wanna be late. It was great talking to you, though,” Ray added quickly, not wanting to seem like he was too anxious to leave.

Ryan smiled, and god did that make it even more difficult to go. “You too, Ray. Want something for the road, a coffee or anything?”

The offer was tempting, if only so he could stick around a little longer, but Ray had already drank four cups over the course of the day, and as much as he joked about living on caffeine, he really did need to take a break. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow, though?”

He really hadn’t meant to phrase it as a question, but Ryan seemed almost relieved that he had said it, nodding and flashing Ray another smile. “I’ll be here. Goodnight, Ray.”

“Goodnight,” Ray replied, trying to sound casual as he headed for the door. His plan to get Ryan off his mind had failed miserably, but his secondary plan to talk to the guy all day had gone off without a hitch. Now all he had to do was get the dumb grin off his face before he made it back to the penthouse, or the guys would never let him hear the end of it.

Chapter Text

Ray was going to choke the life out of the stupid, skull-wearing fuck he’d been saddled with as a partner.

The heist had gone off with every fucking hitch in the world, and Ray was pinning it all on the Vagabond, who hadn’t showed up to the heist meeting on Tuesday and decided to wing it once they were actually in the field. Instead of waiting for Ray to take out the posted guards like they had fucking planned (not that the Vagabond would know, since he hadn’t shown up to the meeting the complete ass), the lunatic went off on his own with Gavin, the least careful and most easily swayed member of the Fakes. Ray wasn’t sure what had happened inside, since all that came over the comm was chaos, but they were left with the smoldering remains of what used to be a warehouse, no take from the goods in the warehouse (because, again, they had all gotten BLOWN the FUCK UP), and what sounded like several injuries amongst the crewmembers.

If Ray was being honest with himself, though, he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to make the shots the way he would’ve needed to in order for the heist to go any better. He was even more exhausted than usual, his typical six hours of sleep cut down to two as he’d stayed up nearly all night texting Ryan.

On Monday, he’d thought there was no way he could be more of a gay mess than he was while having his first conversation with Ryan. On Tuesday, he figured that full day of gay shit was the limit. On Thursday, when Ryan wrote his number on the side of Ray’s cup and sent him off to his “freelancing” with a wink and one of his dazzling smiles, Ray realized that there was no limit to his queer self pining over the guy, and resigned himself to shooting more rainbows out of his ass every single second he communicated with Ryan.

But really, who could blame him? The guy was perfect, and Ray rarely used the term to describe anything that wasn’t food. He was kind and funny and smarter than anyone else Ray knew (he used the phrase ‘diametrically opposed’ in a conversation the other day like it was nothing and Ray had to subtly Google it on his phone to make sure he got the meaning right) and was more than willing to talk to Ray about whatever, from video games to Ray’s work troubles.

Obviously Ray couldn’t mention all of his problems, like how his pistol jammed a few heists back and forced him to hide out in an alley until Michael could come pick him up, or how Geoff was making him interrogate a drug dealer on his day off, but he could slip in the little things. Ryan let him talk for a solid hour the other day about the Vagabond, though he didn’t know Ray was referring to the city’s most dangerous criminal (besides the Fakes, of course). He assumed that the coworker Ray was talking about worked in tech with him, which meant again that Ray couldn’t mention any real details of the job, but he ranted about how the guy was always late to or absent from meetings, never talked, and overall weirded Ray out.

Whenever he talked to the other lads about it, they just shrugged it off, neither of them having a real problem with the Vagabond, so it was rare to get any kind of understanding, but Ryan gave it to him in spades, agreeing with him that the guy was a huge jerk and needed to get his shit together.

“I mean, he’s just the fucking worst,” Ray had complained a few days ago over a large french vanilla latte. “And then, he does all this shit while trying to be the edgiest motherfucker in the world. Like, everything he has is fucking skulls, it’s a fucking mess.”

Ryan laughed at that, tossing his head back and closing his eyes. Ray couldn’t look away.

“Sounds like you have a real bone to pick with the guy, huh?” he said, and Ray could hear the smile in his voice even if he hadn’t been looking at him, a fact that only made his startled laugh in response to the joke even more genuine. It was so stupid, the kind of shit he would’ve punched Michael or Gavin for saying, but coming from Ryan it just sounded sweet, like levity and gravity all wrapped up in a pun and delivered with the sole purpose of making Ray smile.

The only bad part was that the others started to notice. It was hard to hide things in the shared penthouse, and Ray made the mistake of not finishing his coffee before walking back in on Thursday, the black scrawl of Ryan’s number on the side making him the perfect target for crew-wide ridicule. Gavin and Michael hadn’t stopped asking about his “””boyfriend””” throughout the whole rest of the heist planning, which made the sixteen hour days even less bearable than usual. Either Jack or Geoff (Ray didn’t know which was worse and he didn’t want to think about it) had left a care package of condoms and lube in his bedroom, and even the Vagabond seemed to be laughing at him from behind the mask the one time he showed up to heist prep.

Still, Ray didn’t give a fuck what they thought. They were obnoxious bastards, sure, but it was worth dealing with if he got to talk to Ryan more. Besides, he had certainly given them enough grief when Jack and Geoff had first come out as a thing, so he supposed he deserved the backlash now.

He wished he could text Ryan at that moment, knowing that he would have some way to make him feel better even without knowing the situation. Instead, Ray dismantled his sniper with deft hands and packed it away, slinging the bag over his shoulder and making his way to the ground. The building he had been stationed on was a good distance from the target, but Ray knew the LSPD would swarm the whole area once the explosion was reported, and he had to get away before they did.

Ray was a couple yards away from the building, running in the direction of the nearest highway to try and jack a car and make his escape, when he heard a motorcycle engine rev behind him. None of the Fakes had brought their bikes, he knew, so he assumed gang member, thinking maybe one of them had made it out of the warehouse and were looking for revenge. His hand was on the pistol in his waistband as he spun to face the rider, in case he needed to fight his way out, but the reality was almost worse than a potential gunfight.

A leather-clad figure in an all too familiar black skull mask sat on the motorcycle, jerking his head for Ray to get on. There was a moment, brief, but there, when Ray considered squeezing off a shot anyway. Surely no one would know if he just killed the fucker in a back alley, right? Probably be doing some people some favors.

But the sound of sirens cut through the low rumble of the bike’s engine, and if there was one thing Ray hated more than the Vagabond, it was the cops. They made up his mind for him, and he all but threw himself onto the back of the bike, feeling the Vagabond accelerate almost as soon as his ass touched the seat.

There was a reason why the Fakes didn’t use bikes in their heists; one, they were more exposed than a car; two, they were harder to shoot from and easier to lose control on; and three, someone always ended up having to hang off the back of someone else’s bike, which was just plain embarrassing for a criminal. Originally, had things gone to plan, the Vagabond was meant to have a car waiting for them in the alley next to Ray’s vantage point, which he would guard while Ray sniped. Surprisingly, however, the fuck had to make things a thousand times more difficult than necessary and bring a bike instead.

That led them to this point, where Ray had to hold on as tight as possible to the madman’s waist so he didn’t fly off as they wove through the alleys of the warehouses, pressing his face into leather that smelled strongly of smoke and gasoline (and where had he even gotten the fucking gas from, Ray did not want to know) and praying that the news didn’t get photos. When his fellow lads shared a bike, they hammed it up, Gavin all but swooning against Michael’s back and Michael making crude jokes the whole way. Jack was big enough to hold on with one arm and shoot with the other, which definitely lowered the embarrassment factor by a lot.

But Ray was a fucking toothpick made of paper, and the way that the Vagabond drove was far from safe, especially considering the cops were on their tails and he had, oh fuck, decided to take the freeway to escape them. The wind would knock him off in an instant if a car or bullet didn’t first, so he had no choice but to hang on tight and hope they lost the cops soon.

It took him a while to realize the Vagabond was trying to get his attention, as the mask made it hard to tell if he was looking over his shoulder to dart across lanes with killing them both or looking back at Ray. Eventually, though, Ray could swear he heard the Vagabond trying to say something to him, which was fucking bizarre considering Ray had never heard the guy speak once in all the times he’d met him.

“What?” Ray yelled, trying to be heard over the wind. He watched as the Vagabond lifted a hand to his mask, pushing it up so that only his mouth was visible, and God that was even worse than the talking. His mouth was covered in paint, black lines on a white base that were clearly skull-themed and if he hadn’t been the one driving Ray would have punched him in the mouth for it, the fucking edgelord.

“I said,” and there it was, the Vagabond speaks, hallelujah, he’s not just some creepy killing robot, “do you have any plans this weekend?”

Ray was confused.

Ray was very, very confused.

Ray was pretty sure he had actually died back at the warehouse or been shot in the ear or something because what was happening was not making a goddamn ounce of sense.

Why the fuck did the Vagabond need to know about Ray’s plans? Did he maybe need extra people on a job for another group and wanted to see if any of the Fakes were interested? Was he planning on killing Ray that weekend and needed to know the best time to drag him into the woods and slit his throat? Was he, God forbid, trying to make fucking small talk as they flew down the 406, dodging cars and bullets alike?

Whatever his reasoning, he seemed to be expecting an answer, so Ray shouted back, “Dude, it’s Saturday. This is my plans for the weekend.”

The Vagabond seemed to think about that, then asked, “Next weekend, then?”

Fucking christ hell fuck damn what the fucking fuck. “Not….. really?” Ray said, and this was just too fucking weird, where were the cops with lethal aim when he needed them, “I was just gonna chill probably, no big deal.” Chill with Ryan, was the unspoken part of that sentence, but the Vagabond didn’t need to know that. Seriously, why the fuck did he care? Maybe he was relaying something that was happening for the whole crew, since the guy pretty much lived and breathed murder. “Geoff say he needed something?”

But the Vagabond shook his head, turning to respond and getting no farther than taking a breath before it was knocked out of him in a strangled cry, one hand going to clutch at his side as the other fought to keep the bike straight. Ray swore loudly and turned to see a police car in the lane next to them, the cop in the passenger seat holding a gun that had undoubtedly just been used to shoot the Vagabond. She was taking aim for another shot when Ray popped her partner in the head, causing their car to spin out and ram itself into the guardrail.

The Vagabond veered off an exit, leaving the rest of the squadron in the dust as he outmaneuvered them and managed to get the bike parked behind an abandoned storefront. Ray could still hear the sirens on the road, but they faded away within seconds, the cops flying by where they were hidden, likely in pursuit of the rest of the crew. There was a moment of uncertainty, then silence, the kind that told Ray they were safe for the time being.

Or, at least, he was. The Vagabond seemed to be in pretty bad shape, judging from the way he clutched at his side, his breathing heavy and eyes narrowed behind the mask. He set the bike’s kickstand down before swinging himself off, wincing as the movement tugged at the wound. Ray slid off behind him, already going through his bag and pulling out his medical supplies. The Vagabond watched from where he was leaning against the dirty brick of the building, showing no reaction as Ray grabbed a few tools and made his way over to him.

As he approached, the Vagabond reached out his hand, presumably to take the supplies, but Ray held them out of reach, looking exasperated.

“Look, I get you wanna do your own thing, but the last time you got hurt Jack wouldn’t stop talking about how bad it was for at least a week, and I don’t think I can stand hearing about you for that fucking long.” Ray hadn’t meant for there to be that much vinegar in the sentence, but the Vagabond was listening, at least, so maybe it wasn’t so bad.

And, amazingly, the Vagabond stood down, lowering his hands and nodding down to where blood was soaking through his shirt. The bullet had caught on his jacket, which was lucky in that it didn’t penetrate as deep, but unlucky in that fibers of leather and cotton were stuck in the wound. Ray took a deep breath, ignoring how weird it was to be doing a back-alley operation on his least favorite temporary crew member, and got to work.

The shirt went first, cut away from the bullet hole and the stray fabric picked out by a pair of tweezers. Next was digging the bullet out- Ray didn’t carry any kind of local anaesthetic, since he was normally patching himself up in the middle of a job and he couldn’t risk numb hands, so he just had to go in with the scalpel and hope he wasn’t hurting the Vagabond too much; or at least, not more than he deserved. He was about to throw the bullet on the ground when the Vagabond stopped him with a hand on his wrist, silently plucking the bit of metal from his grasp and sliding it into the pocket of his leather jacket. Ray couldn’t be bothered to figure out what kind of freaky shit he was planning with that, so he just kept going, stitching up the wound with crude materials and a steady hand. A pad of gauze and tape were placed on top of the scar, and Ray was finished in under five minutes.

There was a moment, tense and heavy, when Ray thought the Vagabond might speak again, maybe a criticism or, worse, a thank-you. He opened his mouth to break the silence first, but before he could speak the Vagabond had already moved back onto the bike, turning the ignition and motioning for Ray to follow the same way he had back at the warehouse.
Ray wanted to tell him to fuck off and just call someone else for a ride, but he didn’t know everyone’s status, and it could be hours before they were available to get him. With an irritated sigh, he stuffed the medical kit back into his sniping bag and took his position behind the Vagabond.

The engine revved once before they took off, winding their way back to the penthouse for what was sure to be an interesting post-heist meeting. If Ray was extra careful not to jostle the freshly dressed wound that sat right below his arm, nobody really needed to know.

Chapter Text

The high of a heist always lingered for a good week after, whether it went well or not. Despite the utter failure to collect any goods from the warehouse, they had managed to kill most of the gang members in the explosion, the remaining stragglers picked off by Michael and Jack as they escaped. It was enough of a victory to call for post-heist bevs, which kept the adrenaline flowing through the night. Even after crashing and sleeping their way through Sunday, the crew was still full of energy by the time Monday morning rolled around, which meant that Ray was more than ready to get out of the penthouse for a while.

He loved his crew, of course- they all did, like the big fucked-up family they were- but being in any kind of enclosed space with Michael and Gavin after a heist was asking for trouble more than usual. Besides, while he was still riding the post-heist wave, Ray wanted to at least channel that energy into something worthwhile, namely talking to Ryan.

Ryan was behind the counter when Ray walked in, same as always. His face seemed to light up when he saw Ray, and Ray knew that he had an answering grin on his face, and fuck he had it bad already. One of Ryan’s coworkers stepped up to take over on register without him asking, the teasing expression on her face making it clear that she knew exactly what was going on. Ryan said something to her that Ray couldn’t quite make out, and she laughed and shook her head before shooing him away.

Ray raised a hand in greeting as Ryan approached him, the two sitting at what had become their regular table since the first day Ryan took his break there with Ray. Ryan responded with a soft “hey” and a smile, which did nothing to help Ray forget his high level of fucked-ness.

“So,” Ray spoke first, hoping his words didn’t go a mile a minute the way they tended to after a heist, “what was that all about?” He motioned to the girl behind the counter, who wiggled her fingers in a wave when she saw them looking.

“Oh, Lindsay?” Ryan ducked his head, a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “Nothing. She just has certain…. ideas about us that she likes to share with me whenever you come in. No big deal.”

His voice became less audible the more he spoke, and Ray was more than slightly enamored with the bashful side of Ryan.

“What kinds of ideas?” he challenged, hoping that the conversation would go the way he thought it was going. If this girl was anything like Gavin and Michael, which she seemed to be, then it was all too likely that she was teasing Ryan about his “”boyfriend””, which Ray could hopefully use to his advantage. After all, she couldn’t tease as much if they were actually dating, right? Everybody wins.

Ryan casually glanced out the window, very obviously avoiding eye contact as he answered the question. “Ah, you know. She’s convinced that we’re…. uh…. well, the phrasing she used just now was ‘hardcore banging’ so…. there’s that….”

Ray choked out a startled laugh, deciding he liked Lindsay already. “‘Hardcore banging’? Really?”

“Well, what she said was, ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ll let you get to your hardcore banging,’ in response to my asking if she was really okay taking register, so yeah, really.” Ryan was smiling more, still looking embarrassed but less like he was about to bolt from his seat.

“Guess we’d better get to it then,” Ray replied, and Ryan laughed at that, but Ray didn’t want him to laugh. He wanted the banging to be less jokey and more actually having Ryan interested in him, if he was being honest.

If he was being brutally honest, he wanted more having Ryan just plain in him, but that wasn’t the best way to start a relationship discussion.

So he waited until Ryan had finished laughing, letting the conversation slip into a lull for a moment before continuing in a more serious tone, “But really, I’d be down if you are. Hell, I’d take dinner and a kiss goodnight if you wanna drive a bargain.”

Ryan looked at him strangely, almost as though someone had just punched him in the gut and given him a million dollars to make up for it. Ray wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“You’re serious?” The question came after a long pause, and Ray was pretty sure that landed on the side of not a good thing. He should’ve known asking would be a bad idea, but he was rushing from the heist, and his filter wasn’t where it should’ve been, namely on his stupid fucking mouth.

Still, it was out there, and Ray wasn’t about to let it go without a fight. “Yeah, I’m serious. In a you-and-me-on-a-date way, if that wasn’t clear.”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, once again refusing to make eye contact as he stared down at the table. “I- ah, fuck. I can’t, Ray. I’m sorry.”

He sounded genuine, like he really would take Ray up on the offer if he could, which only made Ray curious as to why the answer was no.

“Can I know why?” His voice wasn’t supposed to sound that small, but it was too late to change that. The words were out, and Ryan flinched as though they’d stung him. He opened his mouth to respond, sighed, looked as though he was gathering his thoughts, tried again, and managed a noise that didn’t quite resemble words before falling silent once more.

A minute passed, then two, before Ryan exhaled deeply through his nose and looked out the window again. “I. Ah. Okay. I really am sorry- and I’m not…. not interested. I mean, I am interested, definitely, I’m just…. busy.”

He stopped there, and Ray gave him a moment to continue before realizing he wasn’t going to without prompting. “You’re…. busy.”

Ryan nodded, then seemed to realize how lame that sounded and rushed to correct himself. “What I mean is that I have a lot going on right now. In my life. Just between work and…. other stuff. And I don’t know that I would be able to take the time or energy for a relationship, y’know?”

The more Ryan talked, the more the words sounded off, like he had rehearsed them beforehand. That only served to confuse and frustrate Ray more. Clearly Ryan had thought about them together, and clearly he had been interested enough to keep talking to Ray and have to come up with bullshit excuses as to why it wouldn’t work.

Ray just had to push a little more, he could tell, and Ryan would let something slip. He was used to interrogating gang leaders and hardened criminals, guys who wouldn’t talk even if their lives were on the line. Getting Ryan to admit why he really wouldn’t date him would be easy.

“I’m busy too, man. We’re adults, we have jobs, of course you’re not gonna be available all the time,” Ray began, keeping his tone light. “Besides, my freelancing gives me a weird schedule, so it’s not like I’ll be available all the time either.” That wasn’t a total lie, though Ray was pretty sure that his unpredictable schedule as a criminal was far more draining than whatever Ryan had going on. “We can make it work. I mean, we have so far, right? I’ve seen you, like, every day this week.”

Ryan still looked unconvinced, so Ray continued. “And besides, I’m just asking for one date. That’s, like, two hours of your time. Three, if things go really well,” and here he waggled his eyebrows in a way that made Ryan laugh. He so had him.

“Three hours. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll never darken your counter again.” Another chuckle from Ryan, and Ray was nailing this. Time to drive it home.

“Give me- give us a chance?”

That did it. Ray could see the dam break, see Ryan calculating just how badly things could go wrong and deciding it was worth the potential consequences. Hell, if Ray could risk Ryan finding out about the true sordid nature of his job, then surely Ryan could risk not being able to text 24/7 or whatever it was he was worried about.

“Okay,” Ryan said, hesitant but still in agreement. “One date. But I really can’t promise anything, even if it goes well, alright?”

Ray fucking beamed, pumping his fist in the air and giving Lindsay a thumbs up from across the room, which she returned with enthusiasm. Ryan couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the two and smiling way too softly at Ray once his laughter died down. Ray fought to keep a blush off his face, all but staring as Ryan leaned forward just a little, about to say something else-

Ray’s phone rang, loud and irritating in his pocket, completely ruining the moment. He leaned back in his seat and groaned, muttering a quick apology to Ryan as he took the call.

“Dude, where the hell are you?” Michael’s voice came through the phone, the faint sounds of Gavin telling Michael to tell Ray “hi” in the background. Ray just shook his head, mouthing “hold on” to Ryan before answering.

“At the coffee shop, man, where else?” Ray heard Gavin “oooooooh” at that, and Michael’s tone was mocking when he responded.

“Hangin' out with your boyfriend there, Ray?” Now Ray could hear Geoff in the background, making his patented dick sucking noises at the word “boyfriend.”

Usually this was the part where Ray would stammer and deny any allegations of gay shit going on, but this time he looked over at Ryan, smiled, and replied with a simple, “Yep.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, broken by Gavin making a squealing noise that transitioned into giggles as Michael yelled, “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? SINCE WHEN, RAY! SINCE FUCKING WHEN!” Geoff’s laughter joined Gavin’s as Michael kept ranting, though Ray could hear the smile in his voice.

Ryan looked at him in a way that said he’d heard Michael’s outburst on the other end of the line, amusement mixed with mild concern, and Ray just shook his head and moved the mouthpiece of the phone away from his face for a moment. “Next Saturday good for you?”

Ryan shook his head, but was quick to counter with, “Saturday after next? I booked myself up for this weekend already.” He sounded apologetic, but Ray didn’t give a fuck if the date was two Saturdays from then or twenty. Ryan had agreed to a date with him, and that was all that mattered.

“Since the Saturday after next, you fuck,” Ray replied into the phone, effectively quieting the chaos on the other side, “which is when he agreed to go on a date with me, which will be phenomenal.” The last part was directed at Ryan, who just laughed at Ray’s smug sentiment.

“Fuck you, dude,” Michael replied at a slightly less deafening volume. “Just get your ass off his dick and back over here, alright? Gav and I wanna make an Ammu-Nation run and you’re coming with us.”

Ray knew there would be no point in arguing. Once the lad’s minds were made up, they wouldn’t be changed. Besides, he did actually need to pick up a few things, and he didn’t want to give Ryan more time to change his mind about their date.

He stood from the table, hanging up after a few promises that he’d head back to the apartment and facing Ryan, who had stood as well. “Sorry about that. Friends, y’know? Crazy fuckin’ bastards.”

Ryan nodded, seeming to understand perfectly. From what Ray had seen of his coworkers, he probably did. “It’s cool. I should get back to work, anyway. Can’t just get paid for sitting around all day.”

Ray slid his phone into his hoodie pocket and stood for a moment before making a decision and leaning over to give Ryan a brief kiss on the cheek. He stepped back, looking pleased with himself, and started to head for the door, walking backwards so he could keep looking at Ryan.

“I’ll text you?” It wasn’t really a question; Ray knew he would text Ryan later, but it was nice to watch Ryan shake the dumbfounded expression off his face in an effort to process the words.

“I- yes? I mean, will you? I hope you will?” Ryan frowned at himself before shaking his head and smiling at Ray. “See you later, Ray.”

Ray backed into the door, stumbling a little but catching himself enough to say, “See ya,” before pushing out onto the sidewalk, waving at Ryan through the glass before heading home.

Chapter Text

Ray didn’t make it more than two steps through the door of the apartment before he was accosted by Michael and Gavin, the former punching him in the arm and yelling while the latter hugged him and squealed something unintelligible. Looking past them, Ray could see Geoff laughing at the lads, while Jack shook her head in tired amusement. He eventually dislodged the lads, making his way to the living room proper to receive Jack’s much calmer congratulations and Geoff’s thinly veiled innuendo (though Ray supposed that if the word “dick” was used multiple times in one sentence, the innuendo wasn’t that subtle).

He couldn’t help smiling as he watched Gavin and Michael follow him into the room, the two of them fighting over a seat on the couch as they kept talking about how long it would take for Ray to bang Ryan. His crew was fucking insane, but they all cared for each other, or they wouldn’t be this invested in his love life.

When Ray heard someone direct a question at him, he snapped out of his thoughts to look at the speaker, apparently Geoff. His look of confusion must have been apparent, as Geoff rolled his eyes and repeated his question.

“I said, in honor of you finally finding someone who’ll let you put your dick in them, how would you like to plan the next heist?” Geoff asked, ignoring the beginnings of Ray’s protest that really, they weren’t sleeping together.

Yet, his brain unhelpfully supplied, which very nearly made him get lost in his own thoughts again, this time for a much different and more salacious reason. He managed to keep himself from thinking too hard about what Ryan would look like out of his uniform long enough to answer Geoff.

“Hell yeah,” he said, his grin almost literally knocked off his face when Michael clapped him on the back in congratulations. “What are we talking, another quickie or something more long-term?”

“Long-term,” Geoff said, getting up and heading to the minibar to pour himself a finger of whiskey. “Since the last run-and-gun didn’t go so well,” and Ray was forcibly reminded of blood in a back alley, warm skin under torn leather and a weird, heavy feeling in his gut, “I figure it’s time for a bit of a switch-up. None of our shit goes to plan, like ever, but maybe if we plan more then we’ll be able to stick to more in the end. Worth a shot, anyway.”

Ray nodded, already beginning to get ideas. It had been a while since they’d tried anything with an armored truck, and while the last time had nearly ended in death for Jack and Michael as they got caught on the highway when the truck flipped and crashed traffic blocked their escape, maybe if they could airlift it….

They could start that week, learning armored truck routes and where the best place to steal a cargobob would be, maybe even consider using the train if Ray really wanted to get crazy with it. The only problem was, all that surveillance would be not only time-consuming, but risky. They would need to work in teams of at least two for safety, which meant in a crew of five that-

“Oh, and Ray?” Geoff interrupted Ray’s thought process, having returned to the living room with the entire bottle of whiskey and a glass that was more than half full, “One stipulation. The Vagabond has to be a part of the heist.”

Ray groaned, even though his own plan would’ve called for an extra member anyway. He couldn’t even complain, since it was actually pretty generous of Geoff to give full control of a heist to him, and it was really a small price to pay for getting that opportunity.

But, come on. He would rather hire some rando off the street to do the job with them than have to put up with the creepy presence of the Vagabond for one second. Hell, he’d rather drag Ryan into this heist than deal with the Vagabond.

Actually, scratch that last thought. Ryan was a civilian, and a very kind, attractive one at that. He was way too valuable to risk being shot or stabbed or otherwise injured on the stupid stunts the crew called heists.

The Vagabond it was, then.

That didn’t mean Ray had to like it.

Their first official heist meeting was that Wednesday. Surprisingly, the Vagabond showed up on time, Geoff having called him once Ray figured out the general details of the heist. The crew, with the addition of their resident killer-for-hire, took their places at the table, while Ray stood in front of the map of Los Santos, notes in one hand and marker in the other. He waited for Michael and Gavin to stop kicking each other under the table, then began, uncapping the marker and drawing along with his explanation.

“Alright, here’s how this is gonna work. We’re gonna take an armored truck-” here he saw Jack wince, as her injuries had been the worst from their last truck attempt, but he kept going- “but this time, we’re gonna take it straight up.”

That got everyone’s attention. Jack looked much happier at the prospect of flying, and Ray could practically feel Gavin’s eyes on him as he tried to convince Ray to let him fly instead of, y’know, someone who was actually a pilot. He ignored him and moved on, circling a spot on the map.

“There’s a car that leaves from this bank every Monday, sometimes more than once in the week. Geoff and Gavin, you two will be following its route and scoping out the bank, just in case there’s another day it tends to show up. Jack, you’ll be flying-” again, Ray ignored Gavin’s small whine of disappointment- “which means you’ll be staking out airfields. Find out which ones have cargobobs, when they’re there, and how tight security is.”

He paused before continuing, wondering if maybe he should change this part of the plan, since his crew was fond of screwing him over. Maybe he’d get lucky, though, and if not, he could always switch things around later. “You can pick who goes with you, Jack, and they’ll probably be the one gunning for you during the actual heist.”

“I’ll be looking at train schedules- oh shit, almost forgot, we’re gonna load the truck on a train, those fuckers don’t stop for anything and the cops can’t drive the tracks, so we need to make sure there’s going to be a train with a flat space or an open bucket to stick the truck in,” Ray finished, tapping the train station with his marker and drawing a line up the tracks. “After that, we let the train take us to the airfield, then split up there and head home.”

Ray looked around for questions, only to find everyone nodding and looking thoughtful. Of course, the plan would evolve as they went, probably get more complicated and ridiculous. It would have to if they wanted it to be worthy of a Fake AH Crew heist; Ray was already considering adding in a limo at some point, but for now it was enough to go off of.

“Unless anyone has any questions for Ray,” Geoff spoke up, starting to stand, “I think Gavin and I have a bank to watch.”

He gave Ray a thumbs up, clearly having thought he did a good job on the briefing, despite his boring job and idiot partner he’d been stuck with, and headed out, Gavin following behind him.

“Michael, you and me,” Jack said, closing her notebook and throwing a half-apologetic glance Ray’s direction. He wasn’t too offended- it made sense for her to pick a crewmember she knew to watch her back, rather than the guy they sometimes pay to kill people who aren’t them, but it still hurt a little watching his actual friends leave him alone with the fucking Vagabond.

And old skullhead himself just sat there, looking entirely unaffected by the decision. He was a creepy fuck even in meetings, Ray decided, not bothering to take notes like Jack or fuck around on his phone like Michael or even have the decency to daydream or fidget like Geoff and Gavin. The entire time, he had just sat there, looking directly at Ray and (he swore) not blinking. Just staring, maybe listening if he could even hear past the stupid latex mask. It was unnerving, and Ray hated it, but he was stuck with the fucker.

At least, until he could make up some reason why he and Jack had to switch partners.

He sighed heavily, grabbing his hoodie from the table and not making eye contact with the Vagabond.

“Come on. Looks like we’re going to the train station.”

The Vagabond dipped his chin in a sort of nod, standing silently and trailing just behind Ray as they headed down to the garage, which wasn’t terrifying at all when Ray could see him lurking out of the corner of his eye the whole way there. Ray gave a little wave to Michael as he and Jack pulled out, silently mourning the loss of his day as any chance he had to work with Michael instead of the Vagabond slowly drove to the end of the road and turned, blinker on. Jack was an absolute beast when she flew, and the most careful soccer mom on the road when she drove.

When he turned around, the Vagabond had already walked over to his bike, which prompted Ray to yell across the garage as he walked over to his own car.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting me on your fucking bike again. You can take it if you want, I don’t care, but I’m driving my car, end of discussion.”

Ray was a little surprised when the Vagabond left his bike without a word of protest, sitting on the passenger side and saying nothing as Ray started the brown Adder and sped off. So far, so…. well, not good, but not entirely awful either. Maybe, if Ray was lucky, the Vagabond would just stay quiet and Ray could ignore him all day in favor of counting trains which…. wasn’t much better, come to think of it, but at least he wouldn’t have to actually deal with the Vagabond while doing it.

Of course, Ray’s luck wasn’t that good. It figured, since he must’ve used any luck he had to score a date with Ryan. Anything else that happened had to be bad to balance that fucking miracle out.

As they pulled into a lot across from the train station, where they could watch without being seen (because God forbid the Vagabond go anywhere looking like a normal person, the skull mask enough to tip even the most unobservant person off to criminal activity), the Vagabond looked over at Ray, staring until he looked back uncomfortably.

“You’re a strong leader. I can see why you were chosen to plan this heist.”

With that, the Vagabond let himself out of the car, leaving Ray to sit there in stunned silence. What the fuck was with this guy and saying things to completely throw Ray off guard? First he asked about his weekend plans, and now he’d moved on to straight-up compliments?

Two options. Either Ray was losing his mind and hallucinated every word the Vagabond had ever said to him, or this was part of some plot to drive Ray crazy so the Vagabond could murder him without Ray suspecting it.

If it was the latter, Ray hoped the fucker would wait until after his date with Ryan. He deserved to at least make out with the guy before his criminal lifestyle took him out in the weirdest way possible.

Ray shook his head and joined the Vagabond at the vantage point he’d chosen, wondering if he should bring up how fucking weird that whole exchange was. He wanted answers, but then again, bringing it up would mean having to actually talk to the Vagabond more, and that would just make his day worse.

So they sat in near-silence, Ray watching the trains through his scope and relaying the information on car number, type, and position, as well as when the trains arrived and left. The Vagabond took down the information in a messy, almost unreadable hand, saying nothing in return and never looking up from the notebook he wrote in.

It was the longest fucking day of Ray’s life.

He could almost feel himself start to breathe easier when they finally headed back to the apartment, the Vagabond remaining silent and only interacting with Ray by handing him the notes before taking his bike and leaving, not even bothering to come back up to the penthouse.

That was fine by Ray. Once his mind was off the job, all he was able to think about was why the hell the Vagabond had said anything to him in the first place, let alone complimented him before sitting in silence for a solid six hours. It was bizarre, and unexpected, and almost nice.

Ray couldn’t deny he’d felt a rush of pride when the Vagabond complimented him, it being nice to know that even the stone cold statue of the group thought he was doing alright at his job. Of course, that made him angry at the thought that he needed validation from that fuck in the first place, which brought him back to confusion over the Vagabond’s motive.

Was he being serious? Did he actually mean it sarcastically, thinking that Ray would somehow pick up on the falseness in his flat tone? Was he actually trying to drive Ray crazy, because it was fucking working if he was.

Ray tried to ignore his thoughts as he joined the rest of the crew, who were playing video games in the living room. It was nothing, a weird exchange that happened and was now over and therefore not something to worry about. As long as it never happened again, Ray figured he’d be fine.

Chapter Text

It kept happening.

Of course it kept fucking happening. Ray’s luck was all but nonexistent- must come from having survived being shot so often. Luck worked to keep him alive then, but wouldn’t do a damn thing to help with the menace that was the Vagabond.

Thanks to his team being a bunch of awful traitorous jerks (not to mention the fact that Ray didn’t just assign Michael to himself and end this bullshit before it began), Ray had to stake out the train station with the Vagabond every single day. The exception was the weekend, where the dickhead had some other job he’d taken freelance, which Ray was more than grateful for. It gave him time to process the past few days, absentmindedly taking notes on the train schedule as he did.

He’d thought the first day was just a fluke, maybe some misplaced sense of gratitude left over from the last heist or a way to try and show Ray that he’d accept him as a heist leader in place of Geoff, the guy actually paying him. But then it happened the next day, again as they were about to leave the car and head to the vantage point.

“You have steady hands and good aim. It does you well in your line of work.”

One quick compliment before they sat in silence for hours, not another word coming from behind the latex mask the entire rest of the time. Same formula as before, but it somehow left Ray even more disoriented. At least the leadership thing had been kind of prompted by the heist meeting, there was some small amount of sense to it. This was just out of the fucking blue, a weirdly professional comment that threw Ray off for the rest of the day.

By Friday, Ray was bracing himself for the compliment, tensing the moment he stopped the car across from the train station. Sure enough, the Vagabond spoke, voice muffled by his stupid fucking mask but undeniably complimentary.

“You’re an excellent driver. It’s a wonder they don’t have you on getaway more often.”

Every time it had gone the same; car stops, compliment, follow-up sentence, brief pause, Vagabond exits, Ray refrains from bashing his head into the steering wheel.

It was bizarre, to say the least. The guy went from barely talking to asking Ray about his weekend plans to steadily delivering a compliment every day during heist prep. It was maybe an improvement, if one ignored how fucking weird it was.

Ray couldn’t ignore that, though, so it just stayed weird, unexplainable and entirely unnecessary. He’d never made it much of a secret that he didn’t like the Vagabond, so why would one of the city’s most ruthless killers make any effort to be nice to him?

…. Unless, of course, said killer was doing it because Ray didn’t like him.

He’d considered before that the guy was trying to fuck with him, throw Ray off his guard so he could do something awful. If the Vagabond wanted to kill him, though, he could’ve by now. They were staking out a location from a secluded spot, and Ray was about half the size of the Vagabond, not to mention his primary weapon was a long-range rifle. The brute would have no problem snapping Ray in half with one leather-gloved hand.

So if harming Ray was out as far as motive, maybe the compliments were actually just that- compliments. It was possible that the Vagabond was actually offended somehow by Ray hating him, and wanted to try and rectify the situation. That was a decision that didn’t quite fit with Ray’s image of the Vagabond, but then again, his image was pretty biased by his own prejudices.

Ray groaned at how complicated his thoughts were getting, briefly lowering his rifle so he could rest his forehead on the ground. He just needed to clear his head, maybe get an outside opinion on things. The crew would be no help, since they all had no problems with the Vagabond, so they were out. They were pretty much the only people Ray talked to regularly, though, other than-

Ray’s head shot up, causing him to wince as he strained his neck. Laying prone on the ground didn’t exactly do wonders for spinal alignment. Pain aside, he simply rolled his shoulders and got back to work, a solution in mind.

Ryan, of course. He’d complained to Ryan about the Vagabond before and he’d listened; surely he’d have some advice. Plus, he was always so friendly to his coworkers, the customers, and Ray himself, so he must know how to deal with even the most difficult people.

It had been a while since Ray had been by the shop, anyway, the past few days being filled with heist work and tormenting himself over what the hell the Vagabond was doing. He could use a break.

Ray made a note as another train pulled into the station, feeling a lot better about things. He’d talk to Ryan tomorrow, and Ryan would know what to do.

Beanie pulled low over his ears, Ray made his way to the coffee shop, hands in his pockets and arms close to his body. It was getting colder, weather reports warning of snow in the next few days, and Ray was less than happy to be out before the sun had the chance to clear out the clouds. Still, early mornings were when Ryan usually worked, and there would be fewer customers when the shop just opened than there would be later in the day. Besides, Ryan could make him a nice hot cup of coffee to warm him up while they talked, and that would definitely turn Ray’s mood around.

As Ray pushed his way into the small shop, he saw Ryan already behind the counter, wiping down the machines. He turned around at the sound of the door, smiling brightly when he saw Ray and putting his rag down so he could shift to register.

“Ray,” he greeted, sounding almost breathless as he spoke. It was extremely endearing, and Ray was happy he’d come in already.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Not that that’s bad, I mean- it’s not good either, but it’s not- I know you’re busy, I just missed- fuck-” Ryan stammered for a while until he dead-ended into a flub, sighing heavily before starting over. “Uh. Coffee? You want?”

Ray just laughed, leaning forward on the counter and making Ryan blush as he got closer. “Yes. Me coffee, we talk?”

Ryan shoved at Ray’s shoulder playfully, mumbling for Ray to stop making fun of him as he started the machine, making Ray’s usual without being asked. Grabbing Ray’s cup and a large black coffee for himself, he met Ray at their regular table, one of his coworkers taking over the empty front counter.

Ray made a face at Ryan’s coffee before taking a sip of his own, the taste of sugar alone waking him up. “How the hell can you make such good coffee and drink yours black? Makes no sense.”

Ryan took a big drink of his own coffee in retaliation, swallowing pointedly before saying, “At least I drink coffee, not a cup of hot milk and sugar.”

They both laughed, the argument having been a point of playful contention for a while, before Ryan continued. “So, what’s new in your life? It’s been a few days since I saw you- and sorry I haven’t been texting, we’ve been swamped here with the cold snap.”

Ray waved off the apology, drinking more coffee so he could be alert enough to bitch. “Nah, it’s cool- I took on a new project at work, and it’s been keeping me busy too. Which, speaking of, my fucking coworker’s back at it again.”

Ryan looked appropriately sympathetic, asking, “The same guy? What’s he done now? Please tell me he hasn’t gotten another skull-shaped something for the office.”

Ray shook his head, feeling mildly guilty as always about his cover story but knowing that he couldn’t just tell Ryan he was a criminal. “No, thank christ. Actually he’s…. Well, he’s being nice to me.”

As soon as he said it, Ray knew he sounded insane, and Ryan’s look of confusion only confirmed that.

“Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, the guy’s been bothering you for so long-”

“No, Rye, like weirdly nice,” Ray interjected, trying to put the interactions into words. “Like- okay, the past few days we’ve got this new project, right? And he and I are supposed to be working on it together, which is bad enough, but then every day, every single day, as soon as he comes into work, he just compliments me. One sentence, one compliment, and then he’s dead silent the rest of the day as usual. Who the fuck does that?”

Ryan nodded, looking like he was deep in thought. After a moment, during which Ray angrily drained half his cup, Ryan responded.

“Do you have any idea why he’s complimenting you? What kinds of stuff is he saying, anyway?”

Ray huffed, sitting back in his seat and looking at the ceiling. “He’s probably trying to drive me nuts so I quit or something. And I dunno. Stuff about work, I guess, He basically just tells me I’m good at my job, which is nice kind of? But not because he’s so fucking weird about it.”

“Maybe,” Ryan began, sounding hesitant, “he’s just not used to talking to people. And now that you guys are closer- working closer- he wants to try and be friendly, but he doesn’t know how to approach the situation.”

Ray nodded, having figured Ryan would say something like that. It still sounded wrong, but Ryan usually had some idea of what he was talking about.

“Maybe,” Ryan continued, “a compliment is just a compliment.”

Ray left the coffee shop an hour later, needing to get back to the penthouse and think a little before the Vagabond showed up. The conversation had shifted away from Ray’s coworker after those first few minutes, and Ray had managed to sneak another cheek kiss before leaving, which earned him a smile and a “save it for the weekend” from Ryan. Still, the moment he left, his mind was back on the Vagabond.

Now, though, he wasn’t trying to figure out why the Vagabond was being nice. Really, he didn’t need to know why- it didn’t matter either way. What Ray needed to figure out was how to respond.

Ryan had suggested he try being nice back, even with just a “good morning” or an attempt at small talk. While small talk definitely wouldn’t work, since the Vagabond only spoke when he saw fit, there may some merit in being nice.

Ray considered the possibilities. On one hand, the Vagabond was trying to piss him off by suddenly changing their dynamic, in which case Ray being nice back would deprive him of his goal of making Ray angry and give Ray the upper hand. On the other, the compliments were a genuine attempt at friendship, or at least being able to work together, in which case Ray returning the effort would go towards making work a little more bearable for the both of them.

Either way, Ray won. Suck it, Vagabond.

The nuisance himself showed up that afternoon as usual, leather jacket singed around the edges. Ray figured it had to do with his job from Saturday, and didn’t comment. Instead, he drove them to the vantage point in silence, as usual, parked the car, as usual, and waited for the compliment, as usual.

“You have many talents. They serve you well in and out of the field.”

A pause, as usual. Then, before the Vagabond could turn and open the door-

“You have a good presence. It gives you strength that most people don’t have.”

The pause stretched, the Vagabond frozen with one hand on the door handle and Ray looking at him, a smug smile threatening to cross his face. Seconds ticked over into a minute, the silence almost becoming oppressive before the Vagabond turned, stared at Ray for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and exited the car.

As usual.

Only this time, Ray wasn’t left bewildered and suspicious. He leaned back in his seat and watched the Vagabond stalk over to their spot, shoulders taut. There had been something in his eyes that Ray had never seen before, flashing for that moment they locked gazes before the Vagabond left.

Confusion.

The rest of this heist was going to be a fucking blast.

Chapter Text

Over the course of the week, Ray made it his mission to be as friendly to the Vagabond as physically fucking possible. Every compliment was matched, and though Ray wasn’t as creative with professional compliments as the Vagabond was (and really, who pointed out someone’s trigger discipline as a way of being nice), he compensated with sarcasm and the kind of joking comments he usually only made to the other lads. He complimented the Vagabond on his creepy silence skills, his ability to pull off leather and a skull mask, his motorcycle driving (which was an honest compliment- the guy could drive one-handed after being shot in the side, whereas Ray was still using a Faggio for all his two-wheeled driving needs), his piercing blue eyes, and his attention to his work, in that order.

If Ray was being honest, he’d thought most of those would fuck with the Vagabond more than they did. Only two were genuine compliments, the other three landing in the “heavy sarcasm” or “weirdly personal” categories. Surely a guy who killed for a living and made a name for himself by being a scary motherfucker would take some offense to being told he has “stunning baby blues,” as Ray put it, but he never reacted. He didn’t freeze up the way he did the first time, either, just gave a subtle nod and left the car to do his job.

Ray probably should’ve been frustrated. After all, he still didn’t have answers, and every day that passed without incident made him more suspicious that this was what the Vagabond had been aiming for, this weird give-and-take of politeness between murderers.

But, honestly, it was kind of nice. Not the compliments themselves, though they provided an ego boost to some degree, but that fact that, after the exchange, there was no tension during the stakeouts. Maybe it had all been in Ray’s head to begin with, but the feelings of foreboding and exasperation he always got when working with the Vagabond were absent. It let them work a lot easier, and by Friday, Ray really meant it when he said the Vagabond was attentive about his work, because he was .

Not to mention, using that as a compliment covered up the fact that Ray was almost enjoying working with the Vagabond, which would’ve been way too much to get into. It was a change, working with someone who was quiet and just sort of did their job without talking about dicks or setting something on fire. They got a lot of surveillance done during the week, and Ray really didn’t know how to feel about the fact that they still worked well together, only now without the added negativity between them.

When Ray returned to the penthouse that evening, he was still deep in thought about the matter, trying to work out if maybe he’d been wrong about the Vagabond. Well, not wrong exactly; the dude was still objectively creepy as shit, even if he wasn’t as creepy to Ray specifically any more, but maybe Ray could learn to work with him without wanting to shoot him in the head every two seconds for looming.

It was only when he checked his phone to find two new messages from Ryan that he remembered his date. Was it really almost Saturday already? He’d been so caught up in trying to figure out the Vagabond that he’d nearly forgotten he had plans for the weekend, and that realization made a wave of guilt hit him. 

Ryan: Hey, we still good for Saturday?

Ryan: I can pick you up at six, grab dinner wherever you’d like :)

Ray smiled, tapping an affirmative back and adding a rose and a heart emoji before hitting send and tossing his phone onto his bed. Fuck , he was so excited to see Ryan. 

And, you know, also terrified , but that was neither here nor there.

His phone buzzed against the mattress, catching Ray’s attention. Ryan again, with a short, simple message: another smiley face emoji, and a heart to match Ray’s. Ray had to turn his phone off and push it away from him to keep from sending something way too sappy back, though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling so wide his face hurt.

Saturday , he thought as he grinned like a loon at his bedroom ceiling, is going to be amazing.

Ray had given the crew Saturday off, since there was no way in hell he was about to make himself sit through a whole day of stakeouts with the Vagabond of all people when he could be using that time to prep for his date, and it seemed unfair to make the others work if he wasn’t going to. About an hour into tearing his closet apart looking for something suitable to wear, another hour spent worrying about what would happen if Ryan decided he hated Ray after this, and one more hour going through his clothes, Ray started to think that giving himself a distraction would have been smart.

Too late now, he thought, the clock on his phone nearing five pm. He just had to let instinct guide him at that point. Ray ran himself through the shower, trimmed up his beard, and threw on the first thing he could find that wasn’t a singed, torn, or bloodstained t-shirt. He ended up wearing a t-shirt and jeans anyway- Ray wasn’t really a formal clothes kind of guy, but at least the shirt was fitted and plain black, and the jeans were pretty new, so they looked fine. At least, he hoped they did. 

His regular hoodie was a no-go, especially considering how worn the old thing was, but he found a brown bomber in the back of his closet that he was pretty sure was Michael’s. Oh well. If Michael hadn’t asked for it back by now, surely it would be fine for Ray to wear. 

He didn’t have any time to change his mind, either- a knock at the door startled Ray away from the pile of clothes he had just finished frantically kicking into his closet. Sure, he could have left them out, but a guy could always get lucky, and a messy bedroom isn’t a great way to impress a potential partner.

Speaking of, Ray headed to the door and opened it to find Ryan standing on the other side, looking just about as nervous as Ray felt. He wasn’t dressed to the nines, Ray noticed with relief, but he was wearing a plain blue button-down with jeans and a dark leather jacket. What really drew Ray’s attention, though, was the small bouquet of roses in Ryan’s hand, which he offered to Ray along with a soft smile.

“I, uh, figured I should do this whole date thing right, even if I’m still- hesitant, I guess, about it,” he said, though he didn’t seem hesitant at all when Ray took the roses with an answering smile.

“Dude, they’re great. Roses are my favorite, too, so you’re already earning bonus points,” Ray shot over his shoulder as he turned to set the roses down inside, adding in a wink for good measure. He was glad he did when he saw how it made Ryan’s face glow pink, and how he couldn’t quite make eye contact with Ray as he gestured for him to join him in the hallway.

They chatted idly on the way to the restaurant, a small place just outside the city limits that Ray promised had the best burger he’d even eaten. Ray managed to slip his hand into Ryan’s on the walk from the car to their table, and the way Ryan squeezed his hand and smiled at him while they waited to be seated made him never want to let go. 

Despite Ray’s less-than-stellar track record with dates, this one went off without a hitch, really. Well, alright, he did almost upend Ryan’s Diet Coke into his lap, but Ryan had caught it just before gravity took it all the way to the table, and they laughed it off. Their only disagreements were over dessert (“No way dude, brownies are basically cake. We’ve gotta get one of the pies here, come on.” “What’s wrong with cake?” “Cake SUCKS, Rye!” “Ray, you are a man of no honor.”) and who would pick up the check (“Ray, you tip me WAY too much every time you come in and we both know it, the least I can do is spend some of that money on you-” “Come on Rye, what’s the point of getting that IT money if I’m not using it to treat you? Besides, I suggested this whole thing, so I get to pay for it too.”).  

After a brief scuffle to determine who paid (Ray won, but only because Ryan aborted his last grab to avoid knocking out their waiter as he came by to check on them), the two made their way back to Ryan’s car. The drive back was silent, but in a comfortable way, the dull hum of the engine and the rush of passing traffic the only sounds in the night. Ryan left his hand palm-up on the center console, and Ray laced their fingers together and smiled as he watched streetlights illuminate Ryan’s features. 

They reached Ray’s apartment far too quickly, and the silence hung a little heavier once the car’s engine was shut off. There was a moment where they just sat, still holding hands, then-

“This was-”

“Do you-”

Another pause, broken by the two of them laughing quietly. Ryan managed to speak first the second time.

“This was really nice, Ray. I know I was…. kinda weird about this whole thing, but I had fun. And I- I’m still not sure about everything, y’know, but I- well, maybe we could- uh-”

“Ryan,” Ray interrupted, unable to keep the smile from his face. He waited until Ryan stopped babbling and his attention was fully on Ray before continuing. “Do you want to come upstairs?”

He could see Ryan’s thought process play out over his face, from shock to deliberation to resolution, though he couldn’t tell if that resolution was favorable or not until-

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

Ray almost kissed him then and there, but forced himself to calm down, save it for when they were in proximity to his bed (or, if Ryan ended up being as impatient as Ray felt, his couch). Instead, he squeezed Ryan’s hand, smiling even wider before letting go and opening his door. 

“Then let’s go.”

Silence followed them through the hallways, in the elevator, and all the way to Ray’s door, this one much more charged than any other they’d shared that night. Ray fumbled his keys once getting them out of his pocket, then again trying to fit them in the door, and a third time just because Ryan laughed at the second, a low chuckle that Ray could feel all the way down to his core. Eventually, the universe decided to take pity on him, and the door swung open, letting them into the darkened apartment.

“So, uh, welcome,” Ray said, feeling a wave of nerves hit him as he turned on the light. “Or, welcome back, I guess, since you were up here earlier. Uh, that’s the kitchen over there, and uh-”

“Ray.” Ryan’s voice was soft but forceful, one word shutting Ray up in an instant. He turned to see that Ryan had shut the door behind them, and was looking at Ray with a mix of affection and pure want . They moved towards each other, only needing a step and a half before they were kissing, Ryan’s hands framing Ray’s face as Ray held on to Ryan’s hips. They managed to spin around so Ryan’s back was to the couch, and from there it was easy for Ray to push him backwards just enough that he sat down, Ray following him down and straddling his lap. Ryan grunted as Ray landed on top of him, and Ray took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to Ryan’s. It seemed to be a good move, as Ryan wrapped his arms around Ray’s waist and pulled him closer, further supporting Ray’s earlier thought that they might not make it to the bed.

Ray figured it was as good a time as any for clothes to start coming off, so he slid his hands under Ryan’s jacket and shirt, pushing against warm, firm muscle as he ran his fingers through the coarse hair on Ryan’s stomach, all the way over to-

Gauze? That couldn’t be right. But that’s what it felt like, at least, gauze and medical tape, and if the way Ryan hissed in pain and flinched away from Ray’s touch was any indication, there was definitely some kind of injury there. Ray pulled back immediately, concern and confusion on his face. Why hadn’t Ryan mentioned this before? Maybe warned Ray about it, so he didn’t jostle it while they were…. well, doing the exact kind of stuff they had just been doing?

And why did he look so scared that Ray had noticed?

“Rye, what happened?” Ray tried to ignore the fear on Ryan’s face, focusing instead on making sure he was alright. Would it be too weird if he offered his medical expertise? Maybe he could make up some kind of story that would be believable enough- a little suspicion would be better than Ryan being in pain, anyway.

But Ryan just shook his head, his eyes still panicked even as he tried to smile at Ray. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s nothing. I just- I burned myself at work the other day, you know how it goes with, uh. Coffee. Anyway, I should probably head out-”

“That doesn’t look like a burn,” Ray said, keeping Ryan pinned to the couch to block his exit. “And if it is, you’ve got that gauze on way too tight. Here, let me see-”

“Ray, you don’t need to-”

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Ryan, geez, I’m good at this stuff, just let me check-”

“Ray, you don’t want to see this. Trust me. You don’t-”

“Listen, I can handle a little burn, or whatever’s really going on under there. Ryan, come on , stop moving around-”

Clink .

Ray’s attention was drawn by the sound of something metal bouncing off his hardwood floors. He twisted so he was still keeping Ryan in place, reaching down to the floor to pick up whatever it was that had fallen out of Ryan’s jacket pocket while he was struggling.

The piece of metal was small and misshapen, but Ray could recognize a bullet anywhere. Not only that, but he could recognize the type of hollow point ammo that the LSPD favored as well- he’s stolen enough guns from them (and taken home enough bullets in his cars, bikes, and, when he was really unlucky, his body) to know their appearance by heart.

And he remembered this bullet in particular, too. He’d spent plenty of time looking at it while he was digging it out of the side of the Vagabond just a short while ago.

Everything started to fall into place. The weird compliments from the Vagabond. Ryan’s hesitance to start anything with him. His defense of his “coworker,” talking about his motivations as if he knew, because he did .

The Vagabond looked up at Ray, his sharp blue eyes clouded with uncertainty. Ray could still see how his lips were red and shiny from being kissed, could tell exactly where he was gripping his jacket based on the wrinkles, could see the edge of the gauze where his shirt is still rucked up from Ray’s hands- fuck. Fuck .

“Ray,” the Vagabond tried, and then Ray could hear it, once he was listening for it, could imagine the way that his voice would catch on the mask and turn into something different but not unrecognizable. He should have put it together sooner, but he was so far gone for Ryan, was so stupid about this whole thing- fuck, why was he so fucking stupid ?

The Vagabond opened his mouth to try again, but Ray beat him to it. 

“I think you should leave.”

He was still looking at the bullet in his hand when he spoke. He could tell that the Vagabond was looking at him.

“Ray, I- I didn’t mean for this to- I didn’t think things would go this far.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Ray, who had moved up and off of the Vagabond to facilitate his (hopefully) quick exit from his apartment, couldn’t help but laugh at that. He hoped the Vagabond didn’t pick up on the hysterical edge to his voice as he spoke.

“No, yeah dude, I get it. I totally fucking get it. You were just having some fun, right? Bet it was a real laugh when I walked in that first day, huh, and you just planned to keep on laughing until- when, exactly? Until now? Later? Were you going to put your dick in me first and then tell me, was that the plan? Like ‘hey, cool date and all, thanks for the sex, oh by the way I’ve been lying to you and manipulating you this whole time and also I’m the guy you hate ?’ Is that how freaks like you get their kicks?”

As Ray spoke, he could see more and more of the coldness of the Vagabond creeping over Ryan’s face until his expression was entirely blank. It was a little spooky, honestly, watching it happen without the mask in the way, seeing one man’s face on another’s. Except it wasn’t two different men, not really- just one, with enough shitty personality for two.

Even after Ray finished his little tirade, the Vagabond didn’t speak. He simply stood up, moving a little stiffly from his wound, and silently crossed to the door. Ray watched as he opened it, stepped into the hallway, and looked back just for a second before closing the door behind him, his footsteps retreating down the hall towards the elevators.

Ray waited for a second, then threw the bullet as hard as he could at the door, as if he could somehow throw it hard enough to smash through the wood and lodge itself in the Vagabond again- or maybe just shatter the image of him standing there, backlit by the hallway, looking much more like Ryan than the Vagabond as he took one last look at Ray, regret in every line of his face.

Neither of those things happened, of course. The bullet simply hit the ground, bouncing a few times before coming to a rest in some corner of the empty apartment.

The clinking noise echoed in Ray’s head for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

The door rattled angrily as it bounced off the doorstop, making Ray groan wordlessly in response and yank his pillow over his head to try and block the light from the hallway. It was tougher to ignore Michael physically wrestling the pillow away from him, forcing him to turn his bloodshot eyes on his fellow Lad and try to look angry. He was more tired than anything, though, and they both knew it.

It had been almost a week since the disaster of a date, and Ray had been generally pathetic around the penthouse that entire time. He had been too pissed off to stay in his apartment after that night- every time he looked at his fucking couch, all he could see was Ryan, the Vagabond, the fucking liar sitting there. So penthouse it was, since Geoff had more than enough spare rooms to let him crash in one.

The biggest problem with that plan, though, is it put him right in the path of the rest of his crew, who weren’t exactly known for their patience or subtlety.

“Wake up, bitch!” Michael cackled, using Ray’s stolen pillow to beat him into a sitting position. “Sad sack hours are officially fucking over! Get up and get out there! Maybe take a shower first- you fuckin stink, dude.”

Ray groaned again, weakly swinging back at Michael with his fists. The lad dodged easily, eventually abandoning the pillow to focus his energy on what he did best- yelling.

“Look, I know your big gay night out didn’t go how you planned or fuckin whatever, but this is just sad. Whatever this guy did, it just makes him a bitch and a loser and it’s well past time for you to move the fuck on. Are you just gonna give up on your heist because of this shit? Gonna waste away in bed forever? C’mon.”

He was right, as much as Ray didn’t want to admit it. Sitting around crying over this shit (not that he was actually crying- he was too cool for that) wasn’t getting him anywhere. No more pathetic lounging around.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jack, you know that? Sound just fuckin like her. Get outta here so I can shower, mom.”

Michael punched him in the arm, just hard enough to hurt. “Yeah, whatever. Better than getting all goo-goo over some shitty guy. Wash that stank off and get dressed, we’re going out on the town tonight.”

Ray thought about arguing, saying that he really wasn’t in the mood, but he knew he couldn’t out-argue Michael. Instead, he just shoved him out of the room before following his commands, showering as quick as he could and changing into his regular jeans and hoodie before slouching into the main room.

“Well well well, look who decided to stop being a crybaby piece of shit,” Geoff said, barely looking up from his paperwork as Ray entered. Despite the words, Ray could hear the relief in his tone. As much as the man hated to admit it, he really was the team dad, and he had probably been more worried than anyone about Ray not eating, not moving, and not communicating for the past week. Honestly, the insults made Ray feel better than any attempt at sincerity would have, and he was silently grateful for that.

He resisted the urge to check his phone for the millionth time as he made a show of checking the cabinets in the kitchen for food he still felt too sick to eat. Ryan hadn’t texted him since Saturday, which he had expected- Ray hadn’t exactly made an attempt to communicate either. He didn’t have anything to fucking say, honestly. Even after turning everything over in his mind for the last several days, he still stood by everything he’d said before kicking Ryan out of his fucking life permanently. 

Ray was a lot of things, namely a criminal, thief, and murderer, but he wasn’t a fucking liar , not in the same way Ryan was. Sure, he’d put a bullet in you, but he wasn’t the type to fuck with your head, or your emotions, or to make you think that you were in love with a person who didn’t fucking exist-

Nope. Absolutely fucking not. He did not just think that.

Christ, maybe he did need to get out, take his mind off things. Clearly the bastard was still in his head, moreso than he had any fucking right to be. Maybe a trip out with the Lads would do him some good.

As if on cue, there was a squawk by his ear, Gavin’s arm crashing around his shoulders and nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. Ray managed to steady the two of them, though he couldn’t quite match Gavin’s grin.

“Ray, are you ready to go, Ray? Lad’s night out!” he cheered, directly in Ray’s ear. Michael followed behind him, shaking his head at his antics.

“A toppy tippers night, eh Ray,” Michael mocked, his awful British accent an octave higher than his usual voice. “Get in the car, bitch, time to fuckin go!”

Ray couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was a little weak. He had missed this, even before he knew who Ryan really was- it had been a while since they’d gone out together, just the three of them, and he was actually kind of psyched about it. Or at least, he was as excited as he could be given the circumstances.

As they headed down to the garage, Michael singing some dumb song he was making up as he went and Gavin adding in noises to the beat, Ray almost managed to push his troubles out of his mind. This was way better than some stupid guy, anyway. They’d go out, get the other Lads bevved up, and then probably go find something to set on fire or put way too many bullets into. Just like old times. Ray slid into the passenger’s seat, ignoring Gavin’s protests, and tried to get ready for an enjoyable night, for the first time in a while.

“I’m gonna burn this fucking bar down with both of you inside it,” Ray seethed, wondering if he could shoot both Michael and Gavin before they got him first. 

The bar they’d ended up at was a small, dingy place, tucked out of the way from the main drag of Los Santos. It wasn’t a place they usually frequented, but they didn’t exactly have the highest standards when it came to bevs, so it wasn’t unusual for them to find themselves in this type of bar.

What was unusual was the man sitting at a corner table, who stood up suddenly when the trio walked through the door. He was tall, blond, and far, far too familiar.

Ryan looked nervous, as he fucking should, Ray thought. Michael and Gavin looked more nervous when Ray turned to them, anger painted across his face.

“‘Lad’s night out’? This had better be a fucking joke. In fact, you’ve got about three seconds to start laughing before I add both of you to my body count.”

Michael held his hands up in surrender, looking slightly more calm than Gavin, who was eyeing the door like he was about to make a break for it. “Hey, don’t look at us. We were trying to break his fuckin legs for you, y’know, like bros should, but he’s actually scarier than you, dude. I dunno how, but he convinced us to get you here. You can hate us if you want, but this is still better than you pity partying it up in Geoff’s spare bedroom for another week.”

Ray was about to respond, possibly with his gun, when Ryan made his way across the room to the group. He approached slowly, like Ray was a wild animal that he was trying not to startle. Whether he was afraid of Ray running or attacking was unclear.

“I know I don’t deserve this,” he began, which was admittedly not the worst start, “but I wanted to talk to you. The way I should have Saturday night. Just one conversation, and if you don’t like it, you never have to see me again.”

Ray looked from him to Michael and Gavin, who seemed to have rallied enough to halfway block the door. He doubted he’d be able to get out of this easily.

“Ugh. Fine. You’ve got fifteen minutes, and you’re buying me a fucking soda. After that, I’m leaving.”

Ryan nodded, his expression changing to relief. He led Ray over to his corner table, leaving Michael and Gavin to awkwardly settle in at the bar and wait. They had barely gotten settled before Ryan was talking, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

“I should have apologized. And I am. Apologizing. Right now. I’m sorry, Ray,” he began, tripping over his own words in his hurry to get them all out. “I know that isn’t enough for what- for what I did.”

“And what is it that you fucking did, huh? I wanna hear it from you. I want to make sure you know exactly how bad you fucked up,” Ray spat, crossing his arms.

Ryan took a deep breath, then spoke all in a rush. “I lied to you. From the beginning. I knew who you were, of course, but I didn’t-”

He paused to collect himself, then began again. “You hated me. The other me, who you didn’t- didn’t know was me. And I never in a million years would have imagined that you would like me as myself. As Ryan. And beyond that, I never would have thought that I would- that I would like you back,” he admitted, flushing slightly. Ray hated the part of himself that still found it cute.

“If I had known that we would end up where we did, I would have told you everything the first day you walked into the shop. It’s why I tried to turn you down at first, because I knew that I was in way too deep, and I wouldn’t be able to dig myself out of the hole I’d started out in. 

But I was weak,” he said, laughing in a way that sounded extremely forced. “I- For years I’ve been this perfect killer, the kind of guy that wouldn’t think twice about fucking someone over, but you- you got to me, Ray. I’ve never been so close to leaving my criminal life behind, to just living as a normal person so I could be with you.”

Ray hated himself, but Ryan’s plea was honestly swaying him, just a little. He wasn’t convinced yet, not by a long shot, but it was a start. The entire time, he’d wanted to believe that Ryan hadn’t been fucking with him, that he’d honestly wanted a relationship and had just gone about it in maybe the worst way possible. As the conversation unfolded, that really did seem to be the case. But he had to be sure.

“So you thought it was cool to laugh at me the entire time? While I was trying to hide the criminal parts of my life from you, you knew the entire time. You knew that I was talking shit about you to your fucking face and you still used it to try and fuck with me.”

Ryan was shaking his head before Ray had even finished, looking like he was about to be sick. “No, Ray, never. I wasn’t laughing at you, and I wasn’t trying to fuck with you. It was a little funny when you first happened to walk in, since I knew you didn’t like me as the Vagabond, but the more I talked to you, the more I wanted you to like me. Both parts of me. I know that it was shitty to not be honest with you, but you never would have accepted the Vagabond in the beginning. You couldn’t just like me- you had to like him too. I didn’t know how to merge those parts of my life, and I know that the way I decided on didn’t work at all . I just- I wanted to be with you so much that I completely didn’t bother to treat you like a person.”

Silence fell for a moment while Ray processed Ryan’s infodump of a confession. It was a lot, that was for fucking sure. But the more he thought about it, and the more he watched the pleading expression on Ryan’s face get more and more desperate, the more he had to admit that he was cracking. After all, he had been willing to lie to Ryan about his job. If Ryan hadn’t been the Vagabond, then Ray would’ve been the one in the wrong, trying to justify his criminal life to some poor barista. 

It didn’t make him any less mad about Ryan doing it, but it was enough to make him begrudgingly admit that he wanted Ryan to stay in his life more than he wanted to stay angry at him. They’d have a lot more to talk about after this, probably at length and at a very high volume, at least on Ray’s part, but for right now, Ray was tired. He was tired, and he missed how easy things felt with Ryan, and he didn’t want to spend another week (or longer) miserable over a stupid, misguided attempt at connection.

The pause stretched on for a while, Ryan becoming more and more visibly nervous as Ray studied his hands, thinking everything over. Eventually, he broke the silence, making Ryan jump slightly as he spoke.

“You never bought me that soda.”

Ryan blinked in surprise, then started laughing, the laughter growing louder as Ray smiled back at him. He flagged down a waiter, letting Ray put in an order before turning back to him, smile fading as he glanced between Ray’s hand and his own resting on the table. Ray noticed the motion of his eyes, rolling his own as he grabbed Ryan’s hand. Now that he was looking, he recognized the calluses of an experienced marksman, the faded, silvery scars from knife wounds that crossed the back of his hands and arms. 

One of the marks on his arms looked fresher than the others, and Ray nodded at it as the waiter dropped off his drink. “What’s up with that one, huh? Get into some trouble at the coffee shop this week?”

Ryan followed his gaze and laughed wryly, nodding at the two men who were making gagging noises at their entwined hands from the bar. “Your friends were very…. upset with me, after I apparently broke your heart. I’ve got a matching one on my chest, and a bunch of bruises to go with them.”

“They’re your friends now too, Skeletor, even if they don’t know it,” Ray teased before his expression changed to one of disapproval. “And I dunno about breaking my heart y’know- I’m a young, sexy guy with plenty of options. You’re not exactly the perfect guy, all things considered.”

Ryan’s face fell a little, but he squeezed Ray’s hand and kept eye contact as he replied. “I know. I know. But I want to try to be, if you’ll let me.”

Ray looked at their hands, then at the hopeful look on Ryan’s face, then at Michael and Gavin who were clearly cheering them on from the bar. He brought his soda to his mouth with his free hand, taking a quick sip before smiling at Ryan. “Well, the soda’s a good start. And for the rest, I guess we can- y’know. See where it goes?”

Ryan looked like he had just won the lottery. He squeezed Ray’s hand again, grinning wider than his stupid skull mask.

“I’d like that.”

“Just fucking kiss already!” Michael’s voice rang out from the bar, more than a little slurred. Gavin was giggling next to him, clearly in support of the idea.

And, well. Ray wasn’t exactly against it either.

This time, when Ryan’s lips met his, it felt like a promise.

Chapter Text

okay this is my last act on this before i cast it to the wayside to hell with ye

i can't express enough how gutted and disgusted i was when everything was coming out back in 2020, and still am today. this fic has been weighing on my mind ever since, especially given that the degree of internet celebrity that we as a fanbase afforded ryan is part of what gave him the power to abuse people the way he did. if i could go back in time and not ever be a part of it i would, but that's not how things work. i debated for a long time about what to do with this fic, and i've landed on keeping it up and orphaning it. i doubt that anyone is returning to it, and i certainly won't be either, but it'll still be archived.

is it selfish to not just fully delete this? probably, yeah. i don't know what good it'll do either though, so whatever. here. nobody read this ever.