asher_talos | [For Ray]

[For Ray]

When he wasn't possessed by the Island into thinking he was in love or being kidnapped, Asher had forgotten that being out on the boat could actually be pretty nice.

He wasn't sure where Ray was at that point, whether he was still out on the deck, the indoor sitting area, or even if he had gone overboard for that matter, though he was sure he would have heard the yelling from the bedroom if that last one were the case.

He was lying back on the foot of the bed, legs hanging over the edge and staring up through the porthole on the ceiling. He was also smoking, something he only did on the rare occasion now, having mostly broken the habit since the twins were born. Ray probably wouldn't appreciate it, which was why he hadn't simply lit up right in front of him.

After loosening his tie, Asher tucked his free hand behind his head. He wasn't sure if the peace even had half a chance of lasting the duration of their entire getaway, but he'd enjoy it for as long as it did.

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A small puff of laughter escaped him as he raised a brow, noting the hand pointing at him before looking at Ray himself. "Now who's the comedian?"

Good, sure, but given who his current company was it wasn't as if Ray had any real stiff competition. Pure, though?

"At least you have something to fall back on when you get sick of the cop thing." With the lack of any real crime to fight, that might've been soon.

"Nah. When I retire, I wanna be a kept man. Keep that in mind, just in case they start charging around here."

Years of risking his life for others surely had to have earned him a rest in his old age.

"So if good and pure's never been your type, what is?" If bald was on the list, Asher might find himself laid out on the floor rather than the bed.

"Kept? As in 'In a dark basement after you've gone senile'? Sure," Asher assured, nodding. "You have my word." That was a promise he had no problem making.

"I don't know if I have a type. If I do, I don't think you fit into it... And yet."

"Clearly your type is ugly, mean and a little chubby," Ray surmised, resting his cheek on his shoulder and looking over at Asher through his lashes, "which is why I don't fit into it."

"If it makes you feel better to believe that, I'm not going to take that away from you," he said, flopping down the rest of the way onto the bed, locking his hands behind his head.

"You're welcome."

With a flat smile, Ray shifted onto his side, propping his head up on a hand.

"Well, you're not my type either. Shocking, I know." For one thing, Asher was tall. Ray had had a knack of attracting only women below five foot five inches back home.

"Yeah, skirt chaser. I got it." And even on the Island weirdest day, Asher had managed to keep a firm hold of his pants. Or his dick, anyway, which was more important.

"No, I meant--well, yeah, I meant that too, but I also mean personality. Most of my serious relationships were with short, fiery and Italian women," Ray explained, never having come to the realization that he was describing his own mother. "Except for one but..." He trailed off, dropping his gaze and lifting a shoulder weakly. He took a deep breath. "And you're none of those three."

"So she wasn't Italian? Did your mom have an aneurysm?" he asked. Probably no more so than she would if she ever found out who he was with now. Non-Italian, not a God fearing Catholic, not female...

It was probably best for her health that mama Vecchio never step foot on the Island.

Ray made an attempt at a laugh but failed miserably.

"No, she was Italian." Asher was right about the aneurysm part though. When his Ma had found out her teenage son, the light of her life, was having a dalliance with a Zuko, she had been less than supportive. For his own sake, she'd said, but it hadn't felt like it to Ray back then.

"She just wasn't your typically loud, in-your-face, hot-tempered prima donna." He caught a wrinkle in the sheets and rubbed the material between his fingers. "That's not to say she wasn't passionate, she was, just...I dunno, in a gentle, understated way."

"Sounds like you had it bad," Asher said. And maybe it wasn't just in the past tense if his shift in demeanor was anything to go by.

Ray's fingers paused and he stared at them, silently deciding whether he wanted to continue down this road or not. Decision shortly made, he plastered an evasive smile on his face and leaned forward over Asher, dropping his voice invitingly to move the conversation on. "I've got it bad now, that's all that matters," he said, closing in for a kiss.

Asher leaned in the rest of the way, kissing Ray gently before laying back down. "Doesn't look like you're enjoying your game very much."

"Should've brought Scrabble," Ray mumbled, dropping his chin on Asher's chest. "Tell me something about you.£ he asked quietly. "What were your parents like? Who was your first love? How did you survive childhood without a tv?"

"Ordinary. Amelia. We had chores back then. Kept us busy and not fat." Not having an abundance of food did have something to do with that last one, too.

"Hey, I had chores," Ray insisted. Just not as many as his sisters had had - he was male, after all. Maybe that was the reason behind the everlasting puppy-fat... "I had to polish pool balls and rake the lawn and stuff. It was seriously unfair."

In case he had imagined hearing it, Ray added: "Amelia?" His ears visibly perked.

"Remember when you played stable boy after losing that bet? You barely survived." And Asher thought he'd never hear the end of it. Part of him even hoped that maybe one day Ray would go in and not survive, just so he wouldn't have to hear about it anymore. "Imaging doing ten other jobs on top of that. And imagine doing it at thirteen." Ray would have been passed out before sunrise. At least he would have been quiet.

"Yeah."

Ray scrunched his face at the thought. Given the choice, he'd much rather be the older Asher, the one that had people do things for him. Was Amelia one of those people or had Asher met her before then, when he'd still been human?

"...who was she?"

"My wife," Asher said, nonchalant. It was the first time on the Island that he'd ever really acknowledged having one and putting a name to her. Even when she'd been there - or not there and only in his head, back during that first year there - he'd never said her name.

Ray didn't mean to gasp. His mouth stayed open after the intake of breath, unable to quite comprehend what he'd heard. It was surprise enough that Asher had just shared something, but the thing he'd just shared was huge.

He'd been married. As soon as Ray thought it it seemed a stupid observation to make. Why did it shock him so much? Why shouldn't Asher have had a wife when he was younger? Ray felt like he'd just gained the key to a secret level in a video game. Another door beginning to unlock.

"I definitely think I would have preferred Monopoly now..." He couldn't imagine there was ever much gasping involved in that game.

"Moving on."

"Nonono," Ray inched further up Asher's chest, "I'm sorry. I was just surprised, that's all. It makes perfect sense that you were married once." He paused. "Once, right?"

There were five hundred years to span - you could fit a lot of marriages in half a millennium.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" He had said wife, after all. Singular. Not that she was one of many. Sure, he's been alive for a few centuries, but most of those were as a vampire.

Who'd ever heard of a vampire wedding?

Ray didn't think that Well, Ross is your favorite Friend, after all would be a very welcome explanation right then.

"What...like," he licked his lips, keeping his head low in an attempt to not spook Asher. If he was spooked or agitated or felt interrogated, he'd clam up in moments, Ray knew from experience. "What happened when you turned...y'know. Did she...?"

Did she turn as well? Was she back in New York right now waiting for him? Surely Ray would have known if that was the case.

"She was gone well before it happened, so I don't think she minded it so much." There was a certain disconnect in his tone as he spoke, as if he was relaying fact about someone else's life and not his own. In a way, it actually was someone else's life, because he hadn't been that person in a very long time.

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