I am so surprised that Ray x Krieger isn't more popular in the Archer fandom.
Like??? In s4 e3 "Legs", after Sterling actually paralyzed Ray and made him genuinely need a wheelchair[unlike the first time everyone thought that he was paralyzed], Krieger just offers to make Ray some new bionic legs after seeing that he was so upset about not being able to do the things that he used to. Not only did that show just how willing Krieger was to help Ray, it also shows how much Ray trusted Krieger because he went through it despite Krieger saying just how likely it was that he would die during the surgery.
I screenshoted this gem of Krieger showing his ‘Snacklesnap’ (clearly an off-brand instagram...for food?) where he follows Ray and comments ‘May I have the snake?’ and thought it was a really cute detail and now I am left to imagine what other photos of his he liked and commented and all that stuff
(for the plebians out there: almond = algernop + raymond, “krayger” is for the weak). This drabble is INCREDIBLY personal to me.
“Please don’t cry,” said Ray, stoic eyes fixed on the road in front of him. “I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“Does it break your heart to see the one you love succumb to the devastating truths this cruel world has wrought upon us?”
“I guess. But mostly, it’s just really, really unattractive.”
The tears in Krieger’s eyes disappeared. “Well, thanks,” he huffed. “Next time I’m emotionally destroyed, I’ll be sure to stay out of your way!”
“No, honey, come on! It doesn’t bother me when you cry about things that, y’know...”
“Matter?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, it matters to me!”
“Here we go.”
“You find something you like, and you stick with it, you know? But it never lasts. Nothing good ever lasts!”
“You know what’s really good? Calming breaths.”
“Are you telling me to calm down? Because I’m calm!”
Krieger’s booming voice was practically rattling the windowpanes of Ray’s car. “Honey, you just seem really intense right now. It was just - ”
“If you say ‘It was just a burrito,’ this relationship is over.”
Ray knew Krieger was serious and was, despite his better judgement, in no mood to end their relationship. Especially over a burrito.
“I was going to say...It was just shortsighted, stupid - ”
“Yeah!”
“Bootlicking, money-grabbing - ”
“Yeah!”
“Idiotic, moronic, uh...y’know, stupid of them to get rid of your burrito!”
“It wasn’t my burrito, it was America’s burrito. The Grilled Stuffed Burrito. And they got rid of it - damn them all to Hell, the Taco Bell executives got rid of it!”
“Goddamn fucking idiots!”
“I know!” Krieger leaned back in his seat. “See, you get it!”
Ray didn’t get it. “Of course I get it.”
Krieger opened their drive thru bag. “The number nine is almost as good, though.”
Ray took his eyes off the road to shoot Krieger an are-you-fucking-kidding-me? look. Krieger didn’t notice.
thank u for the prompt ily <3 . tw for mention of child abuse. fic’s under the read more
Ray had never been too keen about birthdays. As a kid, they’d meant nothing more than an extra punch from his dad every year. This year was different, however. After recalling a few too many repressed childhood memories, Krieger promised Ray that he was going to have the best birthday ever.
Of course, there was only so much a promise could do. His birthday was still on a weekday, which meant a work day. Krieger took the day off for reasons he refused to explain, so Ray went in to avoid raising suspicion from his coworkers.
He was starting to regret that decision when his phone rang. Krieger! Thank god.
“Oh, I’m so glad you called. Malory has been up my ass tod-”
“Uh, sorry to cut you off, but I have an important question. Do you like filet mignon or lobster more?”
“Why? You won’t get both?” Ray pretended to whine.
“I was going to, but after picking up Cher’s FIV meds, I’m kinda short on cash. Unless you don’t want me to make the Pão de queijo-”
“You’re makin’ the Pão de queijo. Don’t worry about it. Go with the lobster. Hey, you’re still makin’ that chocolate cake too, aren’t you?”
Krieger chuckled. “Of course, babe…you’re always on my mind. I’m starting to think cake’s always on yours.”
“Aw, honey, you know that’s not true. Cake’s only on my mind 75% of the time. You’re on it the other 25%.”
“That’s reassuring. Can you meet me downstairs in five minutes for lun- uh, I mean, a surprise?”
homie im sick can i get some sweet Krayger Content™
ooc: I actually wrote this a while ago for @stephanie-putty’s birthday. She requested a proposal, so I wrote this little drabble for her but never posted it. I’ve read through, edited, and added to it a bit, but it’s still short and sweet, the perfect cure for any illness.
Krieger proposed one morning, lying in bed with his partner and bathed in a dusty yellow sunrise that peeked curiously through the blinds. It was a simple, casual suggestion—“We should get married.” Ray had just snorted in equal parts laughter and derision. He offered no additional response other than nuzzling deeper into his boyfriend’s neck and insisting they go back to sleep. Most might have been discouraged, even hurt by the dismissal, but after a long moment of contemplative frowning, Krieger hypothesized that the issue Ray took with his proposal must have been its nonchalance. So he tried again.
The thing about Ray was that he wasn’t excited by much, but there were a few certain things capable of filling him with pure and utter joy. The catch was that those things had to be done right.
“Oh my god,” Ray gasped. “Oh my god, shut up.”
“So, uh. I love you.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up! I’m talking, Goddammit!” Krieger shouted harshly before clearing his throat, re-softening his expression, and continuing, “So, I love you. Or, I like you. I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s… good! I like how you collect chopsticks, and you sing in your sleep, and I like how you kiss me when you’re too tired or drunk to keep yourself in check.
“And you like me too! At least, more than most people do. You… tolerate me, which is, I mean. Damn! Wunderbar.”
Ray was holding a hand up in attempt to cover his poorly-suppressed smile, fingers curled in excitement. “I don’t just tolerate you. You ass.”
“Admit it though, you… You do a lot of tolerating around me.”
“Well, it-” He clicked his tongue thoughtfully, then shifted his weight to one hip. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“And I like that! I want you to keep tolerating me!” Krieger grinned, his cheery tone a shift from previous nervousness. It was a plaster perfected over years of work, and it helped trick the doctor into the confidence to keep going. “For a while!”
“Oh, honey. One can only tolerate somebody for so long.”
The plaster fell, and Krieger awkwardly glanced away. “Ah. Good point.”
“Wait, I- No, no no no, I’m kidding, I—” He sighed and held out a hand for the German to take. “I wanna tolerate you for a while too, babe.” He smiled warmly, tilting his head to the side with fondness. “Maybe even like ya.”
Krieger took Ray’s hand in both of his and pressed his lips to each knuckle, a gentle smile hindering the integrity of each little kiss. “So… You know what this is. Ja?”
“Yeah, I know what this is.”
“So… Yes?”
Ray scoffed, pulled his hand away, and pouted dramatically. “You’re not gettin’ it that easy, shithead! Ya gotta do it right. Say it!”
He sighed (just as dramatically) before producing a small box from the pocket of his coat with a flourish. “Ray.”
The blond was giddy, smiling so hard his jaw hurt and blushing so pink he could’ve added a stripe to the pride flag. “Say my whole name,” he whispered, afraid that anything louder may come out as a scream.
“Raymond Gillette.”
“Q.”
“Raymond Q. Gillette,” he amended. “Will you legally and symbolically attach yourself to me for the foreseeable future?”
Ray’s face instantly fell. “Ya couldn’t let me have my moment. Could you?”
“Hm? Oh! Oh, oh, oh, you wanted the whole, like, traditional thing.”
“Yes!”
“Well, I’m not a mind reader.”
“Asshole.”
Krieger cleared his throat, straightened his tie, re-assumed the position, and cracked open the box. On display was a gorgeous silver band with rows of glittering diamonds all around—a wise man would opt not to wonder how the scientist afforded it. The reveal was met with Ray’s very long, very audible gasp, and a squeal on the exhale.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-”
“Raymond Q. Gillette. Will you marry me?”
“Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes, oh my God, oh my God.” He clapped excitedly several times before sticking his hand out and all but screaming his barely-contained excitement as Krieger slipped the ring on. “Oh, sweet gracious Lord, you even knew my ring size.”
“I built your hand.”
“Not the left one!”
“You think I didn’t measure both?”
“Wh-”
“Just in case.”
“You’re so well prepared.”
“I know—You should marry me.”
Ray squealed, dancing out his energy. “Okay,” he giggled. “Why not?”
“Do you want, like, a list of reasons? Or-”
“No, oh my God, shut up, just kiss me.” He dropped to his knees and attacked the scientist with a deep, hard kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. Krieger hugged him around the waist and kissed back with vigor, humming happily into his boyfriend's—oh my God, his fiancé’s—mouth.
Malory: I'm sorry, I just don't get how this relationship works.
Archer: Oh, it's simple. I'm straight for Lana, and she's straight for me, and then I'm also straight for Pam, but she's gay for Cheryl, but Cheryl is straight for Kreiger, who's gay for me, Cyril, and Ray, and Ray's also gay for me and Cyril, and me and Cyril are begrudgingly gay for each other, and also sometimes Barry is there.
