Not A Setback

Summary: Ray accidentally gets a friend in trouble. Paul makes too much food for the dinner party. Walter is patient and loving with Ray while still holding him accountable. Another normal day, really.
Warning(s): Spanking; explicit sexual content; referenced homophobia; AU

###

Walter was mostly dressed for the dinner party, where they planned to meet with Martin, Grant and Paul, but he'd paused to watch Ray as his husband got dressed. It was far from the first time he'd seen Ray getting dressed, but he never grew tired of watching.

Or of doing, either. After he checked to make sure they still had plenty of time before they had to leave for the dinner party, Walter moved over to Ray and wrapped his arms around his husband's waist, pressing a kiss to his neck.

"I love you," he murmured, sliding his hands over bare skin.

Ray relaxed back against him, leaning into the touch. "I love you, too. Mmm, you feel good."

He pressed his ass back against Walter's crotch, rolling his hips to give him a good stroke.

The effect that Ray's actions had on him was immediate. Walter's member stirred and became hard. His hands shifted to Ray's hips, gripping them firmly, and his low groan ghosted over his husband's skin. The corner of Ray's mouth turned up in a pleased smile, and he moved his hips rhythmically, rubbing his ass against Walter's erection.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said breathily. "You just put those pants on; it won't hurt my feelings if you don't want to come in them."

"I can take them off." Walter murmured the words against Ray's skin. He put action to words, freeing one hand from his husband's hips to remove his own pants.

"Mmm, yes, good idea," Ray breathed. "Maybe be a little rough with me?"

He took a step forward and braced himself on the wall, opening up his stance with both hands on the wall, arms almost straight, his legs spread, and his backside sticking out.

Walter quickly removed his own pants and reached for what he needed. After making sure there was enough preparation, he grasped Ray's hips and pushed inside his husband, kissing and gently nipping the side of Ray's neck.

Ray moaned softly as Walter moved within him. The muscles in his shoulders and arms strained to keep him in place as Walter drilled into him, but he liked that part of it, too, how physical they could be with each other without ever worrying that they'd get hurt. Ray trusted Walter down to his bones, and he knew that he'd never hurt him. He was safe here.

"God, you feel so good," Ray gasped.

He pushed back against the pressure, closed his eyes and let the world shrink down to the feeling of Walter moving inside him: the fullness and the stretch and the raw, sensitive, building pleasure of it.

"Want you," he moaned. "Walter, Walter, please—"

Walter nipped a bit more forcefully against Ray's neck, even as he gripped his husband's hips tighter. He continued to thrust deeper and harder inside, his own world narrowing to only focus on the moment. On where he was, with his husband. On the feel of being inside Ray, of being surrounded by the man he loved. He released one hip, moving his hand round to stroke and caress Ray's member.

Ray groaned and leaned back against Walter's chest, letting him take his weight, resting his temple against Walter's cheek. He wanted to sink into him, to let Walter swallow him whole.

"Sometimes I love you so much it feels like I'm going crazy," he said.

"I know, because I feel exactly the same." Walter lightly grazed Ray's neck with his teeth, holding his husband's full weight with little difficulty.

Ray felt his orgasm building, everything tensing and cresting until it was almost unbearable. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and fell into it—free fall, head first—bucking against Walter's hand and then sagging against him, trusting that Walter would hold him up. And he did, same as always.

Even though his own orgasm had come over him, Walter didn't let go of Ray. He held his husband up, keeping him safe and close and tight against him. And as the waves of his own orgasm finished washing over him, he kissed the side of Ray's neck and whispered, "I love you."

Ray leaned into the touch. "I love you, too. God, I love you so much." He looked down at himself, then back at Walter, not a stitch of clothing between them, and laughed. "We really nailed this whole getting ready for the party thing."

"We still have time." Chuckling softly, Walter kissed him. "Let's clean up and then we can get dressed properly."

He gave Ray's hips a gentle squeeze before reluctantly releasing him.

Ray tailed him into the bathroom, more for proximity than anything. They washed up together, and then went back into the bedroom to start redressing. Ray got as far as his pants when the phone rang.

"The universe wants me naked," he said, catching Walter's eye and grinning. He answered the phone. "Hello?"

"It's Martin." The man on the other end of the phone was doing better at being social, but his voice was still a little more brusque than he'd intended. He cleared his throat and said, "Just wanted to ask you to bring an extra bottle. Grant thinks we don't have enough."

"Oh, sure," Ray said. "We have kind of a stockpile in the liquor cabinet. I don't drink, so I never really know how much to buy, and usually I buy too much, and it just… accumulates. I'll bring extra, and whatever we don't drink, you can keep." Something struck him. "Oh! I've made sure to put Grant's econ book right by the door so I'll remember to bring it. He left it in my car, but I'll get it back to him tonight so he'll be fine for his test. I'm sorry I couldn't return it earlier, but we've been grinding at work."

"When did you see Grant?" Martin asked.

"Um, Tuesday night? Walter was doing some paperwork shuffling late at the office and wanted me out of the way, so Grant offered to keep me company. We had dinner at that new Mexican place. It was pretty good."

"I assume he didn't tell you he was grounded," Martin said. "I've got enough time to handle this before you get here."

Ray's stomach dropped. "Oh. No, I—shit. Maybe—maybe go easy on him? Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get him in trouble—"

"Grant got himself into trouble, not you," Martin said. "It's my place to deal with him."

"I know, you're right, but—"

"My decision." Martin's tone was shifting rapidly towards irritation.

Ray flinched. He felt the same nervous chill as when Walter was cross with him, and he let out a shaky breath.

"Yes, sir," he said weakly. "Sorry."

"We'll see you soon," Martin said, before hanging up.

Hearing his husband's response, Walter walked over to Ray and wrapped his arms around him. "Everything okay?"

Ray melted into the hug.

"I messed up," he said miserably. "Grant's going to get spanked because of me."

Walter hugged him a bit tighter. "I don't expect it was you who got him into trouble. I'm guessing it was his own actions."

"I know, but I still feel awful."

"That's because you're a good man." Walter kissed his cheek. "But you don't need to feel bad." He hugged Ray a bit tighter and then said, softly, "We should finish getting dressed."

Ray didn't want to break off the hug, and a part of him no longer wanted to go to the party, either, but he nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said, and did as told.

Walter dressed quickly and waited for Ray to join him before walking out of the house and to their car.

Ray remembered the extra liquor and Grant's book. He tried not to fidget as they drove.

As he drove, Walter reached out and gently squeezed Ray's knee. He didn't say anything, but kept his hand there, gently rubbing and squeezing. It helped Ray relax, and by the time they arrived, he almost felt good again.

"You need a few moments before we knock?" Walter asked quietly, after parking outside the small farmhouse.

"No," Ray said, though it was tempting. "Just gotta rip off the bandaid."

He got the liquor and the book and followed Walter to the house.

Walter stood in front of the door and knocked.

A few seconds later, the door was opened by Paul, who smiled when he saw them, even if he did look a little worried. "Hi! Come on in."

Ray caught Paul's expression but tried to ignore it, since he didn't want to work himself back up. They stepped in, and Ray nodded at the big brown paper sack full of liquor bottles he was carrying. "Where do you want it?"

"Kitchen's fine." Paul led the way, adding, "I hope you're hungry. Me and Grant have never had a dinner party before and Martin's...well, never been exactly social, even before. We decided to err on the side of too much rather than too little."

"We're starving," Ray said. He set the sack and Grant's textbook on the counter. "And we're really happy you invited us. It's nice to see you guys when we're not battling the forces of darkness."

"Yeah." Paul smiled ruefully. "Plus, you're probably the only friends we have that actually understand what we're going through. All the others … well, I can't exactly tell my college friends that I don't feel like partying cause I've been dead once and it wasn't much fun."

Ray nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Can we help with getting anything out to the table or anything?"

"We just need to get the ice on the table," Paul answered. "Didn't want to take it out too early in case it melted." He headed over to the freezer and opened it, so he could fill a bowl with ice cubes. "You can add the drinks you brought to the table, actually," he added.

There was the sound of footsteps and Martin appeared in the doorway; with Grant, who was looking quite subdued.

Ray took a step closer to Walter, til they were shoulder to shoulder. He needed the contact with his husband.

"Hey," he said uncertainly. "It's nice to see you. Can I—does anyone want a drink?"

Grant shook his head and quickly headed past the others, into the dining room.

Martin sighed. "I could do with a beer," he muttered.

Ray handed him a beer, and gave one to Walter, too. They followed Grant into the dining room.

Paul followed behind, carrying the bowl of ice. As he'd indicated, there was more food than could maybe realistically feed all of them, but at least it meant none of them would go hungry.

"Nice spread," Walter said, pulling Ray's chair out for him before sitting down himself. "You all cook?"

Martin nodded, sitting down as well and beginning to pass food around. "Was able to cook for myself, but I hadn't had any experience in cooking for more than one until these two invaded my life."

Paul grinned and pulled his chair closer to Martin, leaning his head against the older man's shoulder. "Admit it. You wouldn't have it any other way."

Grant stayed put, just spearing some meat onto his fork and beginning to eat with a dark look on his face.

Ray avoided looking at him. He filled his plate. "I've gotten a lot better at cooking after moving in with Walter. He's a good teacher, and there are a lot fewer takeout options on the rez." He paused. "I miss the restaurants, sometimes, but it's nice to be accountable to someone."

Walter took his hand, gave it a squeeze. They shared a smile.

Paul's grin was rueful. "My whole life's changed. But for the better." He shrugged and slipped his hand into Martin's. "Made me realise just how lucky I am to be alive."

Martin gently squeezed Paul's hand, but as Grant began to scrape his knife and fork against his plate, Martin reached out with his other hand to gently grasp his other lover's. "If you're gonna be sitting here with an attitude, you should go inside until you calm down."

"I don't have an attitude," Grant muttered.

Ray squeezed Walter's hand tightly, then let go.

"Do you need another beer?" he asked, standing from the table before his husband could answer. "I'll go get you one. Anyone else want anything?"

Grant pulled his hand free of Martin's and stood up, stalking out of the dining room, his whole body stiff and tense.

Martin's sigh was audible.

Ray's shoulders slumped. "Do you think it would help if I went to talk to him?"

"I think he's more pissed at me than you," Martin murmured.

Walter took Ray's hand. "Why don't you sit down, sweetheart? Just try not to dwell on it. He'll get over it." Ray sat back down. "Good boy. Why don't you—"

"Your boy was giving me some lip on the phone this afternoon, Walter," Martin said.

Ray flushed. Walter gave his hand a light squeeze. He regarded Martin casually, and when he answered, his tone was even. "I heard his half of the conversation; sounded to me he was just worried about his friend."

"Worrying about Grant's discipline is my place, not his."

"And worrying about Ray's is mine," Walter said. "I keep a good eye on him. And he's been a very good boy lately, and I'd like that to continue, so I'd appreciate it if we could end this conversation right here." He gave Ray's thigh a pat. "I want you to have something to eat, please."

"Yeah, you said you were hungry," Paul commented. "You've gotta help us eat as much as possible. I don't think we have enough room for all the leftovers." He picked up one of the dishes and held it out to Ray.

Ray accepted some mashed potatoes. He didn't feel much like eating anymore, but Walter was right; he just needed to put it out of his mind and enjoy the time with their friends.

"Thanks, Paul. It looks great." He took a bite. "Tastes great, too."

Paul grinned.

"Glad you like it," he said happily. "I think it's the best one out of the 50 different recipes I tried to make."

Martin squeezed him gently. "You're exaggerating. There was only one batch that went wrong."

Paul looked up at him. "Sure, this time there was only one batch that went wrong."

"It was worth the trial and error," Walter said. "You put together a fine meal."

"Not bad for a first dinner party, huh?" Paul commented. "I did try my hand at making sangria, but I think something was wrong with one of the ingredients. It tasted funny."

"That sounds pretty ambitious," Ray said.

Walter laughed good-naturedly at his husband. "Would to you. You can't even make a rum and coke."

"Wanted to make sure everything went right today." Paul shrugged.

Martin looked at his younger lover fondly. "There's always next time."

"I think you did great," Ray assured him. "Grant … that's not your fault."

Paul sighed and looked down. "I don't know why...." He cut himself off and shook his head. Forced a smile.

"How's work going for you guys?" he asked, instead of what he'd been about to say.

"It's been a bit of a grind lately," Ray said. "No particular reason, just people acting badly."

"Full moon, maybe," Walter chuckled. "Mercury going backwards … whatever the new astro explanation is."

"How's school?" Ray asked.

"Pretty good, I think," Paul answered. "I've got a test coming up. All seems kind of boring, after all of the excitement we've faced."

"I can do without any more excitement like that," Martin muttered.

"That makes all of us," Walter said. "What's your test in?"

"Chemistry," Paul replied. "I want to be a scientist. Running experiments, making and testing theories. That sort of thing."

"Cool," Ray said. "There's a lot of important jobs in that. You don't know how many cases we make just based on a breakthrough from the forensics lab."

Paul nodded. "Yeah. That's one of the fields I want to look at."

"We could probably get you a tour, or one of those, whaddya call it, shadowing deals," Walter said. "We work pretty closely with the labs, so we've got friends there. When you're ready. If you want."

"I would want." Paul's smile was huge and bright. "Thanks."

"Of course. We'll do anything we can to help," Walter said. He nudged Ray's shoulder. "Hey, baby, how about fetching me that second beer, now?"

"Sure," Ray said, leaving his chair. "Anyone else want anything from the kitchen?"

"Yeah, I could do with another beer too, please," Martin said.

"You got it," Ray said, and walked into the kitchen. He pulled two beers out of the fridge and began searching for a bar key, listening to the muted conversation going on behind the door.

Grant wandered into the kitchen, carrying his econ book and eyeing Ray. "You told Martin I came to meet you."

It was clear leaving the table hadn't given him a lot of time to calm down.

Ray's shoulders slumped. "I'm really sorry, Grant. I didn't know that he wasn't supposed to know. I'm so sorry I got you in trouble."

"He wouldn't have known if you didn't tell him." Grant frowned.

"I didn't know not to tell him."

"Then why did you?" Grant demanded.

"Because he asked me point-blank!"

"He asked you if I'd sneaked out to come and see you?"

"No. I told him I had your textbook, and he asked me when I'd seen you to get it. I didn't know what I was saying would get you in trouble, I swear. I thought we were just talking." Ray flushed high up on his cheeks, which was often a precursor to him crying. He took a deep breath in, deep breath out, tried to steady himself. "Grant, your friendship means a lot to me, and I would never knowingly do anything to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Grant looked away, folding his arms, his movements sharp and jerky. "He didn't need to know."

His tone was upset more than sulky or filled with attitude now.

"I can't take it back," Ray said softly. "I feel awful that I got you in trouble, but I can't erase what happened. All I can do is apologize, and I do, sincerely. I hope you'll accept it, but if you don't, or you don't right away and want me to fuck off for a while, I get it."

Grant sighed. "I just...I really didn't want to get into trouble today. Had a pretty difficult phone conversation earlier."

"Is everything okay? What happened?"

"I spoke to my parents." Grant paused and shook his head. "Guess I can't really call them that anymore."

Ray nodded. "I've, um, I've had that problem myself. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I was hoping not to have to think about them." Grant sighed. "But I can't really avoid it. They don't … understand. I haven't shared about all of the supernatural shit, you know. But with Martin and Paul ...." His voice trailed off.

"After I came out, my father didn't speak to me for three years," Ray said. "I thought he'd never speak to me again. But eventually he came around. I'm not—I don't want to give you false hope, or tell you that you don't deserve to hurt as much as you do right now, because you do. But there's a chance that they'll realize they really do love you no matter what." He met Grant's eyes. "I know nothing I say will make this better, but I want you to know that I've been through it, too, and if you need somebody for—hell, for anything, Walter and I have your back."

"I know." Taking a deep breath, Grant looked down. "I'm sorry I've been a jerk. I just...we've had so many problems. You'd think I'd be better equipped to handle a problem based in the outside world, rather than the supernatural. It's a sad truth that you and Walter, Dorian and Anubis, are probably the only true friends I have right now. You know, outside of Martin and Paul."

Ray was a moment in speaking. Finally: "Y'know, I think with friends it's a quality over quantity thing. I had to get older to learn that. And what you're dealing with, the family stuff? I don't think there's a way to prepare for that. Honestly, all things considered, I think you're doing pretty well, Grant. Even if it doesn't feel like it."

"It doesn't," Grant admitted, with a long sigh. "You ever feel so much...older than the people around you?" he asked. "Like, you're the same age physically, but...they all seem so much younger. More immature." He ran a hand through his hair. "Not sure I'm making much sense," he admitted.

"No, I get it," Ray said. "After my father—my biological father—died, I felt like that. Like I'd seen more life, had carried more of it, and my peers didn't understand. It lasted a long time, but eventually I stopped feeling like that."

Grant nodded. "That's good to know. I hope that disconnect will fade eventually."

"I'm sure it will. I mean, you've experienced trauma, and that really knocks you off-kilter. You'll learn how to carry that, and things will go back to normal, more or less."

"So long as we don't wind up in another battle with the forces of darkness," Grant said ruefully. "I've had more than enough of those to last several lifetimes."

Ray chuckled. "You're telling me." He looked back at the door to the dining room. "Think you're up to finishing dinner? I think it'll mean a lot to Paul."

"Yeah." Grant gave a tiny smile. "I mean, Martin told me to come back when my attitude was better. I think it's reached that point now."

Ray patted his shoulder. "I'm glad."

He grabbed the beers, and they headed into the dining room.

"You have to harvest the wheat for those yourself?" Walter asked as Ray handed him his beer.

"Yes, dear. I've been out in the fields with a scythe."

Grant snorted softly and moved his chair to the other side of Martin, sitting down and eyeing his older lover speculatively. "You know, we've probably got all we need here to brew our own beer. It'd save us some money."

Martin nodded. "Maybe worth thinking about. I've been considering building a vineyard," he commented.

"You start making your own wine, Paul can perfect his sangria," Walter said.

Paul nodded quickly. "And once it's perfected, everyone can try it."

Grant glanced at his best friend. "You were trying to make sangria?"

"Yeah." Paul shrugged. "Key word there being trying."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Ray said. "Just make mine virgin." He frowned. "What's a virgin sangria?"

"Fruit," Walter laughed. "Maybe some ice."

Ray shrugged. "I like fruit."

"Lemonade too?" Paul suggested. "I could experiment with it. Next time you come over, you could be my guinea pig."

"We would be happy to be your guinea pigs any time you have a new recipe to try out," Walter said.

Paul grinned. "Great!"

Walter raised his bottle. "To a great first dinner party; to good food and good friends."

***

They got home late, and all Ray did before getting into his pajamas and getting ready for bed was let the dog out. When he came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, he found Walter sitting on the bed waiting for him. He patted his thigh.

"Come sit with me, love. There's a few things I need to talk to you about."

Ray sat down on Walter's lap, cuddling against him. Walter put his arms around him. He lifted Ray's chin so he was looking him in the eye.

"Do you understand that Martin was picking on you today because he was upset with Grant?"

Ray nodded. "Yes. I thought it was something like that."

"Good. He shouldn't have done that, and I wanted to make sure you knew it wasn't about you or anything you did wrong."

"I know."

"Good boy," Walter said. "I also wanted to tell you that I meant what I told him: You have been a very good boy lately. I know you've been working hard and doing well, and I want you to know that I notice and that I appreciate it. I'm very proud of you."

Ray ducked his head. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." Walter tipped up his chin again. "There's one more thing, and this is the most important thing I'm going to tell you tonight. If you slip up, and you earn a punishment in the future—if you do it a year from now or tomorrow—that doesn't negate all the hard work you've done and all the progress you've made. It's not a setback. Sometimes we make bad decisions, or behave badly—we all do. That doesn't make us bad people. And the fact that you need a little extra discipline to keep yourself in line, that doesn't make you a bad person, either. Do you understand?"

Ray took in a slow breath. He felt tears well in his eyes.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly. "I do, it's just … sometimes it's hard to remember."

Walter kissed him. "I know, love. That's why I'm reminding you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now, all ready for bed?"

"Yes," Ray said slowly. He put his weight on his right knee and swung his left leg across Walter's legs so that he was straddling Walter's lap, his knees bracketing Walter's hips. He put his arms around Walter's neck. "But I'm not tired."

Walter smiled. "No? Any idea what you'd like to do before you go to sleep?"

Ray leaned in and kissed him: slowly, deeply, well. He looked him in the eye when he pulled back to take a breath.

"I had a few thoughts," he said.

Walter put his arms around Ray's waist and squeezed him in tighter. "Why don't you show me?"

"Yes, sir," Ray whispered, and pushed Walter gently to his back, crawling in on top of him.

***

Grant wound up at the cafe a few minutes earlier than the time he'd arranged with Ray. He headed inside, moving towards a table that had a clear view of the door and who was coming in. Then, he paused, faltering in his steps.

He never used to be so paranoid. And it wasn't like he was expecting anything to happen. It was just harder to relax than it had been in...well, before his life had changed so drastically.

"Hey."

If he hadn't already been on edge, Grant probably wouldn't have jumped about a foot in the air. At least he didn't scream. Too many people had already glanced over at him as it was.

Flushing, Grant turned, looking sheepish. "Hey...."

Ray's expression was soft. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. You okay?"

"Yeah." Grant took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm a little on edge. Any preference where to sit?"

"This one's fine," Ray said, nodding to the table Grant had picked out. "I don't know about you, but I desperately need some caffeine."

"I know the feeling," Grant replied. "I'll treat."

"Oh, thanks."

The waitress came by, and they ordered. Ray waited until she was out of earshot to speak again.

"How are you doing? Honestly."

"Honestly?" Grant took a deep breath. "I thought I was doing okay...and then I wound up mouthing off at Martin last night." He sighed. "I don't know, sometimes it's like I have to push and push until he reacts."

Ray frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. Have you tried talking to him? I know how hard that is, and I … I have definitely been guilty of playing the 'bad attention is better than no attention' card, but usually I just end up hurt. It's really hard for me to talk to Walter about what I need, but afterwards, I'm always glad I did."

"Like you said, it's really hard to actually explain...put it into words," Grant said. "You know, before...when Paul and Martin were dead and just ghosts...the only time Martin paid any attention to me, apart from telling me to leave, was when I got an attitude with him. Or did something dangerous. I guess I figured that even bad attention was better than none." He frowned unhappily. "I'm not reckless so much now...but my mouth keeps running away from me."

Ray sighed. "I have that problem sometimes, too. I'm not the right person to talk to about impulse control. But Walter has been working with me on talking to him about my needs. I admit it: It's excruciating. That's not how I was raised. But I didn't realize how often I wasn't getting what I needed just because I didn't know how to ask for it. So now I'm trying to learn how to say simple things like, 'I need attention' or, 'I need affection' or, 'I need your help.' It's so, so hard, but it's worth it. But Walter listens. He encourages me. He always gives me what I need. If you're not sure Martin will do that…" Ray's mouth twisted. He poked his tongue into his cheek. "Then I guess you've got a bigger problem."

"Martin's not...." Grant paused, trying to think of how to explain what he felt. Finally, he said, "I know he can be brusque at times. Antisocial. But I know he loves me. I know he loves Paul. That he'll do the best for us." He took a deep, almost shaky breath. "He does put us first. Even when...you know...when I thought I would lose them. Lose them both. He focused only on making sure I was safe. Even if it was away from him."

"Then maybe it's worth a shot."

"I know you're right," Grant said. "But the thought of doing so is really daunting."

Ray arched a brow. "More daunting than fighting the forces of darkness?"

"I'm not baring my soul to the forces of darkness," Grant answered wryly.

Ray chuckled. "Okay, good point. Maybe you can do it in a less scary way. Take baby steps and just introduce a little bit of your argument at a time. Or write him a letter."

"A letter might be a good idea," Grant mused thoughtfully. "Easier to get my thoughts out that way."

"Definitely. You can take some time to organize your thoughts, and then you don't even have to be there when he reads it."

The waitress dropped off their order. Ray thanked her, and then started adding milk to his coffee.

"That will eliminate the biggest trigger to the situation escalating," he said, "which is you and Martin going head to head while you're both emotional."

"Yeah." Grant added his own milk and sugar to his coffee, stirring it. "I haven't asked, but I'm pretty sure Martin's from a vastly different time. Being open about our relationship...being in a relationship...I think he's still not used to it." He paused and then added, his voice taking on a slightly guilty tone, "I hope you weren't put off coming back after the other night. I think Paul wants to invite Dorian and Anubis along for another dinner, but I don't know how the whole guardian thing works."

Ray smiled. "You're gonna have to work a little harder to scare me off, Grant."

"Good." Grant took a drink of his coffee before saying, quietly, "I am sorry about giving you a hard time."

"It's okay," Ray said. "I understand."

"I mean...it was my own fault I got into trouble."

"Yeah, but I think we've all misdirected our feelings about something when we're upset. I know I have."

Grant nodded. "Still. I'll try not to do it again."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." He studied his Danish. "You wanna split this? I'm not sure I'm up for the challenge by myself."

"Sure. I can do that," Grant agreed.

"Great. Problem solved."

***

Walter got home earlier than usual and let himself into the house. Knowing that it wouldn't be long until his husband came home, he began to prepare food for both of them.

Ray had been in Rapid City all day, talking with the federal prosecutor about a few cases and dealing with some business at the FBI office. He got home and just sat in the car for a long moment, feeling like he was shouldering a thousand pound weight. Eventually, he was able to haul himself out of his seat and into the house. Walter was in the kitchen, and, wordlessly, Ray wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Hey." Walter turned so that he could wrap his arms around his husband tightly. "What's happened?" he asked worriedly, stroking down Ray's back.

Ray winced. He felt shame choking him. He didn't want to tell Walter anything, and at the same time, he wanted to tell him everything.

"I messed up," he said, hiding his face in the joint of Walter's neck and shoulder.

Walter pressed a kiss to the side of Ray's head. Squeezed him gently. "Let's sit down and talk about it."

Still keeping his arms wrapped around his husband, Walter led Ray into the main room, sitting down with him. Ray buried his face in Walter's neck again, and he held onto him tightly. He felt so childish, but he was desperate to be held and comforted, while at the same time feeling nervous and shameful because he'd misbehaved and was going to be punished for it.

Settling Ray on his lap, Walter began to gently rub his arms and down his back, speaking softly to him, pressing kisses to his head every so often.

Ray relaxed against his husband. This was exactly what he wanted: To be babied and loved and cared for. But he didn't deserve it.

"I messed up," he said again. "You're going to be so disappointed in me. I'm so disappointed with myself."

"Do you remember what I told you?" Walter asked softly, stroking down Ray's hair and over his neck and back. "Doing something you regret isn't a setback. It doesn't make you a bad person. It just means you need help. Guidance. Discipline."

Ray couldn't keep a few tears from escaping. "I know. And I believe you, I do, it just … I can't stop this feeling."

"What happened?" Walter asked gently.

Ray hid his face against Walter's shoulder. "I lost my temper."

Walter stroked his hair. "With who?"

"That asshole Kennedy at the FBI office in Rapid. He's always on me, and today…"

"What did he say?" Walter pressed gently.

"He was telling some crass joke about gay sex to half the office. When he was finished, he looked at me and said, 'Is that how you got your job, Levoi?' Normally, I would just ignore him, but I was so frustrated after the prosecutor, and I … I just shot back at him."

"What did you say?" Walter's voice was still calm and gentle. He still kept stroking his husband's hair and back.

"I said it was evident that he didn't have the skills to sleep his way to the top, and since he didn't have any talent or work ethic, either, how, exactly, did he get his job?"

"And how did he respond?" Walter continued the gentle touch, the gentle stroking of Ray's hair and back.

Ray tried to focus on Walter's comforting touch, but he still felt the little stone of guilt in his gut. "He didn't. He turned a color I don't think I've ever seen on a human being before, but my boss overheard us. He was not happy. He didn't write me up, but he chewed me out. I've never had that happen at work before." He looked at Walter. "Except by you, but that's different."

Walter nodded in understanding. "You didn't see Kennedy after that?"

"No, but I'm under the impression that he got his ass handed to him, too. I got out of there pretty quickly." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't say he didn't deserve a dose of his own medicine, but I shouldn't have done it. I owe more to you, and I owe more to myself."

"You're a better man than he is, Ray," Walter said seriously. "You don't need me to tell you that you shouldn't have let your temper get away from you. You already know that."

Ray's voice came out small. "Yes, sir, I do. So what are we going to do to deal with this?"

"I'm going to spank you." Walter placed his hand against Ray's cheek, thumb gently stroking over his husband's lips. "Partly because you do know better. But also because I know you feel guilty. And a spanking will help with that."

Ray knew the answer before he asked the question, but a nervous chill still ran through him. Walter was right, though. He always was. Ray pressed against Walter's hand, desperate for every bit of contact.

"Okay," he said meekly. "Now?"

"I don't think waiting will help you." Walter kissed his husband's forehead and then positioned Ray across his lap.

Ray settled into the familiar position, and he felt himself relax a little. Despite the reason he was there, he always felt safe and loved over Walter's knee, Walter so close, all around him. As much as the spankings hurt, he knew Walter gave them because he loved him and wanted him to be better and to feel better.

Walter rubbed Ray's back for a few moments before he tugged his husband's pants and underwear down. After rubbing a bit longer, he lifted his other hand and brought it down in the first firm smack that he then repeated, before delivering two more swats just below the first.

Little cries left Ray's mouth as Walter began to spank him. He used to be embarrassed by the noise he made during his punishments, but he'd gotten over that. It was part of it. He lay over Walter's lap, listening to the crack of Walter's hand smacking down on his backside, and his own cries. He felt the sharp pain of each smack, and the warmth building in the flesh of his bottom, and he did his best to be still and just take it. He had messed up. This was his punishment for a bad decision and bad behavior, and once it was over, he could put the incident behind him. He wouldn't have to feel guilty or ashamed anymore, because he'd paid for his mistake. He wanted that. He wanted it badly.

"What I told you still holds true, Ray." Walter spoke in a low, reassuring tone, using the swats as an emphasis to his words more than anything else. "You have been good. I know that you feel bad about what happened today, but making a mistake doesn't make you bad. It doesn't mean you're a bad person. It just shows what you need to work on."

Ray started to cry quietly. Usually it took longer, but his emotions were so strong and so close to the surface that everything just spilled out. Sometimes he had trouble seeing himself the way Walter saw him. He needed to work on that, too. But he knew Walter would be there to help him, as many times as it took.

"I'm here, with you, Ray." Walter began to swat a fraction harder and faster. "I love you. And when something happens and you need discipline, I love you enough to provide that for you. And I always will."

Ray cried harder and tried not to squirm as Walter smacked his tender ass harder. He moaned. "I—ugh, ow, Walter—I love—love you, too."

"You are so much better than what you said today," Walter said. "And I know you can behave so much better. I know it upset you to lose your temper like that, but you're accepting the consequences of your actions and I'm proud of you for that. And I know you'll do better next time."

Ray sobbed. "Y-yes, sir, I promise…"

"Good boy," Walter praised softly. He delivered some final smacks to Ray's sit spots and thighs and then stopped, moving his husband back into his arms and cuddling Ray tightly.

Ray went limp against him, exhausted from the spanking and the dam break of his released emotions. It was okay. Walter had him; he was in the safest place in the world, and nothing was expected of him.

"I love you." Walter kissed the side of Ray's head and just held him, once more stroking and rubbing down his husband's hair and back.

"I love you, too," Ray said softly. "Thank you for helping me."

"I always will," Walter promised.

Ray smiled. "Yeah. I know."

"When you're ready, we can get up and eat," Walter said, perfectly content to hold and cuddle his husband for as long as Ray wanted.

Ray snuggled against him. "Let's just take a minute. I need more of this."

"Whatever you want, love."

Ray relaxed into his husband's embrace. What more was there to want, but this?

The End