No, No, No

Summary: Ray does something reckless and thoughtless, and Walter pushes back hard.

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The victim was fourteen, a girl who'd gone missing walking home from school. Local police and hundreds of community volunteers searching had turned up nothing until five days later, when construction workers found her backpack, still packed and zipped but with a broken strap, tossed into a drainage ditch on the site of a new hospital wing. The construction site was across state lines, and so they sent Ray to oversee the search there. Midday, they found the girl, rigored into the fetal position. She'd been buried in a shallow grave beneath dry, gray dirt and gravel, and when they pulled her up, she was powdered with the light-colored earth, and Ray felt like he was looking at a ghost.

Ray was well trained, and he was good at using the logical part of his brain at work and just focusing on the problem, and most cases didn't hurt. But he couldn't get the image of the little ghost girl out of his head. He went to his hotel room after twelve hours looking for her and digging her up and standing there by the table while the ME did the autopsy, and he stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. At first he just stood there, numb, and before he realized what was happening he was screaming and crying and he'd bloodied his knuckles on the shower tile. It was all lost under the sound of the water pulsing down on him. Eventually the water went cold, and he turned it off and got out. He wrapped himself in a towel and he put antiseptic on his knuckles and never cried about it again, but he could feel that pain like a blade in his gut every day he worked on the case, and it was weeks.

Ray hunted down the killer. He had a good suspect, but they couldn't nail him down. He was the sheriff's son, and he slipped through their hands like water, again and again. The police blocked them; he lawyered up; they couldn't secure a warrant for blood or fingerprints. Ray was a good undercover agent. He hadn't showed the man his face. He tailed the perp for an evening, ended up sitting next to him at a high end bar in the business district. Ray listened to him bitch about girls and football and the quality of the liquor, and when he left for the bathroom, Ray took his glass and bagged it and left the bar. The lab got good prints off it, and Ray got his arrest warrant.

And then he never saw the man again. He took a team to serve the warrant, and found his house empty. He never came back.

***

It was eight years later, and Ray woke in the bed he shared with Walter with the image of the ghost girl still in his head. He didn't think about her a lot, really, but sometimes he saw her in his dreams. He felt shaky, unsound, like maybe he wasn't all the way out of the dream, and he pressed his face against Walter's shoulder and held onto him.

It was early in the morning, but Walter was a fairly light sleeper, especially where his husband was concerned. He woke up when Ray pressed into him, automatically wrapping his arms around Ray.

He pressed a kiss into his husband's hair and murmured, "Bad dream?"

His hand rubbed up and down Ray's back. The touch was extremely reassuring, and Ray felt himself start to relax.

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "The Nicole Loveday case."

"Oh, Ray." Walter's arms tightened around him.

"Did anything specific trigger it?" he asked softly.

"I don't think so. It just comes up sometimes. I guess … I guess someone needs to remember. Remember her, and what happened, and … and that it isn't finished. He's still out there."

Walter nodded. "I know it's important to you. We'll start looking. See if anything comes up. Get justice for her."

"Thanks. I'd like to put this one to bed."

"I would too," Walter said honestly. "For her sake and for yours."

Ray traced the Sun Dance scars on Walter's chest with his fingertips, chewing his lip. "She would be 22 today. She could be getting ready to graduate from college." He sighed. "I guess that kind of thing isn't going to help me sleep better at night, but sometimes I can't stop myself from thinking them."

"It's not a bad thing," Walter said quietly, covering Ray's hand with his own. "Remembering her keeps a part of her alive. And you remember her so that you'll be able to bring her killer to justice. When you find him again."

Ray nuzzled Walter's shoulder. He closed his eyes and breathed in Walter's good scent.

"Yeah," he said. "When."

***

Weeks later, Ray stopped at a gas station mid shift. He filled up the cruiser and went inside to buy a soda. He was at the register paying when he caught a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. He was very good with faces, and even if he hadn't been, there was no way he could have forgotten that one.

Ray sat in his car and watched in his rear view mirror as the man gassed up his car. He knew what he was going to do. He knew what might happen. He owed Walter an explanation in case things went bad.

He took out his phone.

Ray got home well past dark. The house was quiet when he walked in. Walter was sitting in the kitchen. He'd tried contacting Ray, but his husband's phone had clearly been switched off. He'd tried to track down Ray, but there'd been no sign of him.

With no other course of action available to him, Walter had returned home to wait.

Ray approached the table slowly. He felt like all the air had gone out of the room. He paused in the doorway, a few feet away from his husband.

"Hey."

Walter looked at Ray; studied his face for a long moment before he asked, "Where is he?"

"En route to the fed pen in Yankton."

"And at what point were you planning to update me about this?" Walter asked, his tone calm, level, even.

Butterflies fluttered frantically in Ray's abdomen despite the level tone. "I am now. Now that it's over."

"That's not the way we do things, Ray."

Ray swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir."

"I'm disappointed in you," Walter said quietly. "You owe me more respect than you showed today. I knew how important this case was to you. I asked you to wait. I would have come. Instead, you turned your phone off and ignored me."

Ray's lip trembled. He fought the urge to hang his head, because Walter deserved to be looked in the eye.

"Yes, sir, I know," he managed. "I put your needs second, and I did it deliberately. I'm sorry I disrespected you, and I'm sorry if I made you worry. I understand that there will be consequences for my actions, and I understand that I deserve them."

"I'm glad to hear that," Walter replied. "It's late, so I'm going to give you a choice. We can deal with this now, tonight. Or wait until the morning. Get some sleep first."

Ray's leg shook a bit, but he managed to get his voice out strong. "Let's deal with it now, please, sir."

Walter nodded and stood up, walking into the main room and taking a seat on the couch.

Ray felt like he couldn't breathe, but he'd meant what he said: He knew he'd done wrong, and that he deserved what was coming. He followed Walter, stopping in front of him, nervously awaiting orders.

"I take what happened today very seriously, Ray." Walter spoke in a quiet, intense tone, holding eye contact with his husband. "You're right that you disrespected me. Disrespected our relationship." He reached out and undid Ray's pants, pulling them down and then following those with the underwear. "I'm going to start out with my hand, but then you're getting my belt."

Ray let out a shaky breath. "Yes, sir."

He laid himself out over Walter's lap, bottoms up.

Walter rested one hand on Ray's lower back, rubbing gently for a moment or two. Then, he delivered a firm smack to the crest of Ray's backside and repeated it, settling quickly into a pattern of swats, working his way over every inch of his husband's bottom down to mid-thigh.

The sharp pain sent a shock through Ray, and he tried to catch his breath as the smacks rocked him over Walter's lap and kindled a fire in his backside. Soon he was letting out little cries every time he was struck. He grabbed onto Walter's pant leg and tried to stay still for his punishment.

It was hard to listen to and feel his husband's reactions, but Walter continued even so, delivering firm, hard smacks to Ray's rapidly reddening backside. "We're a partnership, Ray. We don't ignore each other. I wouldn't do that to you and I expect the same from you in return."

Ray whimpered. The guilt hurt as bad as the spanking.

"I know," he bit out. "I'm sorry, hasáŋni. Please forgive me."

"I always do and always will," Walter promised. "I love you. No matter what."

He began to swat a fraction harder and faster, focusing more smacks to Ray's sit spots and thighs, where he'd feel it when he sat down. Then, Walter paused to remove his belt.

Ray's backside throbbed and burned. He heard the belt slip out of the belt loops of Walter's jeans, and tears washed his face. The belt was awful, and it scared him, but if it would show Walter he was sorry, he wanted it. He'd happily take 100 strokes to earn Walter's forgiveness. He'd fucked up. He realized that. He could get so focused that it put blinders on him to everything else. Walter always put him first, and Ray was ashamed that he didn't do the same. It wasn't on purpose. He loved Walter more than anything, more than he'd ever loved anyone. But sometimes, when he fucked up, when Walter's disappointment lashed him as harshly as the belt, he was certain that he didn't deserve him. The belt, and Walter comforting him after, would drive that thought from his head. He welcomed it.

Walter took a few moments to rub Ray's back. "I love you." He said the words again; knew that both words and action would help to drive the promise home. "I won't give up on you, Ray. No matter what happens. I will never give up on you."

He raised the belt and brought it down firmly, then delivered a second stripe just below the first.

Ray gripped the couch cushion in shaking fists, lowered his head, and cried. He couldn't stop himself from yelling out when the belt bit his already tender flesh, but he forced himself to be still and take it well. He was too overwhelmed to speak, but he thought over and over again, I'm sorry I'm sorry I love you.

Walter delivered a full dozen strokes with the belt before he stopped. He rubbed Ray's back gently for a moment or two and then moved his husband onto his lap instead of over it, stroking his hair and back and whispering soft words to him.

Ray burrowed into the hug. He let himself cry until it was all out of him, and then he got his breathing back to normal, focusing on the good touch and Walter's gentle words.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'm really sorry, Walter."

"I know and I forgive you." Walter kissed the side of Ray's head and hugged him a bit tighter. He continued to stroke his husband's hair and down his back. "I love you. You made a mistake, but it's dealt with now."

Ray relaxed. "I love you, too. Thank you for never giving up on me, no matter … no matter how bad I mess up. I don't even want to imagine my life without you."

"You won't have to," Walter promised. "You won't ever have to."

"I'm glad if I have one constant in this life, it's you."

Walter kissed him gently. "I'll always be here," he promised. "Why don't we go up to bed? Might even be able to have the morning off, if there aren't any emergencies."

Ray looked at him from beneath his lashes.

"You wanna tuck me in?" he asked coyly. "Make sure I get a good night's sleep? That's very thoughtful of you."

"Probably be a lot more than tucking in going on," Walter commented. He gestured towards Ray's clothes. "Might be more comfortable for you to take them off entirely."

Ray leaned in, murmured against Walter's ear, "I was hoping you might want to do that for me."

He pressed a kiss to Walter's cheekbone, nipped lightly at his ear. Walter turned his head enough to capture Ray's lips with his own, beginning to strip his husband of his clothes.

It was quite a while before they made it to the bedroom.

The End