I forget sometimes how much I love this pairing. <3
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Maybe it was the kids. Maybe it was getting older. Maybe it was just being this close to home again, but Ray found himself getting up as they drew closer to California with the sun.
The bus was in its familiar sway when Ray pushed back his curtains and climbed down from his bunk. The others were still drawn tightly, but as Ray fumbled his way down the dim hallway and out into the front, the sweet smell of coffee brewing greeted him.
Frank sat at the small table, back to the door, headphones in, bobbing his head as he clicked around on his laptop. He didn't seem to notice as Ray came in, not even when Ray pulled down a cup and helped himself to the fresh pot. Ray leaned against the counter and watched him as he worked, feeling his chest squeeze at the tiny curl on Frank's lips that spelled mischief. Whatever Frank was doing online, Ray was sure he'd hear enough about it later.
Eventually, the siren's call was too much and Ray buried his hand in the impressive rat's nest of Frank's hair. Frank jumped, cursing lightly, but relaxed the moment he looked up.
"Jesus, man. Warn a guy next time," Frank grumbled, pulling out his headphones.
"Sorry, sorry," Ray returned. He tugged on Frank's hair, then slid into the seat across from him. "You look busy. Band stuff?"
"Dunes," Frank agreed. "Tucker sent some stuff over."
Tucker being Frank's best partner-in-crime, Ray said a silent prayer for the other guys. He hummed, sipping his coffee. "Am I gonna distract you if I sit here?"
Frank laughed. "Probably." He knocked his ankle against Ray's, before turning back to his screen. "Do it anyway."
Outside the I-5 rolled by in a yellow-gray state of nothing. Ray watched a passing exit roll by, the bright signs of fast food glowing harsh and all too Americana through the window. He thought of the end of the tour and what happened after. He thought of home and the kids and Frank.
"You know," said Ray slowly, "I've got extra space at the house."
Frank eyed him. There was that curl around his mouth again, knowing and shrewd. "You trying to keep me around, Toro?"
Ray blushed. "I know Jamia probably wants you home," he ventured.
Frank closed his laptop, steepling his fingers over the lid. Underneath the table, his foot caught around Ray's ankle and sank in like a hook.
"Nah, Jamia knows. I mean, she figured I'd want to spend some more time out here. With you guys." He paused. His socked foot rubbed against the bone in Ray's ankle. "You know we've talked about it."
Ray knew that. Theoretically he knew that. In practice even, but still. Knowing that Frank and Jamia had their…agreement didn't make acting on it any easier. "I don't want to keep you," he said, guilty anyway.
"Ray. Man." Frank's hands reached across the table, scooping up his hands from around his mug. "I'm the one that's supposed to be all maudlin about tour ending. Stop stealing my shit."
Ray thought about how Frank had started touring long before any of them, and went on touring long after the rest of them took a break or stopped. He thought about saying something about it, but stopped. There were bruises still there Ray suspected Frank wore just under his shirt.
Instead he just flipped his hand and let Frank thread their fingers together. They were warm from both the coffee and each other, and Ray had a thought that there was something of magic in a California sunrise, even as it happened over the I-5.
