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caressofkrieger · 7 years

Text

Title: “Shame”

Pairing: Ray Gillette/Dr. Krieger

Word count: 5,435

Rating: T

Summary: Krieger knows that Ray is ashamed of him. Honestly, though, that’s okay. It’s not exactly hard to see why the idea of sleeping with him would be revolting, and if that’s not gross enough, the idea of dating him? Well, that’s just social suicide. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt his feelings, but... Krieger’s terrified to rock the boat.

“Holy shit.”

“Yep.”

“That was... Holy shit!”

“Yep yep yep.”

“Jesus, well... I’m gonna be feelin’ that in the morning.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you capable of saying anything besides ‘yep’ and ‘yes?’”

The scientist took a moment, brows knitting together in brief, pensive consideration. “Yes?”

“Ugh.”

“Wait! I mean... No? No, I mean yes. Yes. Final answer!”

Ray couldn’t help but smile, a small, involuntary upturn of the lips. “If you hadn't just given me the best, strongest, most mind-blowingest orgasm, I would be deeply annoyed with you right now.”

“But I did.” Krieger sat up halfway, raising his eyebrows at Ray hopefully. “Right?”

“I mean... Well, yeah.”

A bright, cheery grin instantly spread across the doctor’s face. “Excellent!” He leaned forward and kissed Ray on the forehead, then lay back down. “I, for one, have never been so satisfied by regular human sex in my life. It was nice.”

Ray opened his mouth to ask, but stopped himself before he could make that mistake. “I don’t want to know.”

“Oh, no, you most certainly do not.”

“Hang on—did you fuck some disgusting sort of robotic swine VD into me? Because if you did, I swear to God, Krieger, not only will we never do this again, but the next time your sad, sad little penis sees the light of day, it’ll be in two hundred years, getting scraped off the underside of my shoes by a bunch of archeologists!”

Krieger blinked, a small frown on his face. “I mean... If you bury a human penis, it would be entirely decomposed in less than a decade. Unless you plan to preserve it-”

“Dammit, Krieger! No! I don’t mean literally.”

“The whole thing? Or just the part about my penis?”

“Goddamn- If I’ve got radioactive venereal infections up my ass, I will figuratively obliterate your dickhole, and I will literally never sleep with you again.”

His eyebrows flew upward in understanding. “Oh! Well, then we better start testing right away!”

“What? Why?”

“Because I have an erection.”

Ray glanced down, noting the scientist’s sizeable boner, and looked back up to meet Krieger’s eyes with a deeply unimpressed expression.

Krieger coughed. “...What?”

Krieger rolled off of Ray with a satisfied sigh, humming as he ran a hand back through his hair to tame the mess into some semblance of its usual sleekness. “Heilige Scheiße.”

“Yep.”

“Das fühlte... Heilige Scheiße.”

“You could say that again, baby.”

“I mean... I’ve already said it twice-”

“Figuratively.”

“Oh.”

Ray laughed softly, shifting to rest on one side, a hand propped on his elbow so he could rest his head on his palm and just look at the man lying beside him. “So, that was the best celebratory STI-free sex I’ve ever had.”

“Me too!”

“And, uh, I think I’d like to do this again.”

“The infection screening?”

“The sex, asshole.” He gave Krieger’s shoulder a playful shove. “I wanna keep doin' this. Us. Whatever.”

Krieger’s eyes lit right up, like something switched inside him to bring him this pure joy, and suddenly the green of his irises went from warm moss to fucking Christmas lights. He took Ray by the wrist and leaned in close, making his expression as serious as he could manage while still being utterly giddy. “I. Would. Love that.”

Ray rolled his eyes, hoping to play this off as casually as possible, and said, “Well, it’s all yours, honey.”

And then Krieger fucking giggled, and if that wasn’t the cutest Goddamned thing-

Oh, Lord.

Ray was in trouble.

Krieger was a lot of things, namely: bizarre, creepy, eccentric, offensive, seriously disturbed, clinically insane, and terrifyingly genius.

But, as it happened, he was also sweet.

He came over to Ray’s place one night, an eager grin across his face as he happily anticipated a night of guinea-pigging his own personal brand of lubricant with Ray. Ray, on the other hand, was... not so in the mood.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I know I promised you we’d try out the... the whatever stuff tonight-”

“It’s a water-based apple-flavored tingly lubricant with a special aphrodisiac quality that’s absorbed through the skin-”

“Yeah, that. Look, I’d just rather not. Alright?”

He started to close the door, but Krieger stopped him. He gripped the edge of the door with a firm hand and forced it back open, and for a moment, Ray was scared. He might not have known too much about Krieger, but he knew Krieger was mentally and emotionally scrambled with bass-ackwards morals, a creepily vague past, and an extraordinarily rapey van, so yeah. There was a moment there where his heart beat faster and he reflexively reached for his guns, but then he glanced up at Krieger’s face and it was...

Soft.

It was gentle and concerned, a little frown and a furrowed brow, eyes surveying Ray’s expression carefully.

“That’s okay,” he said simply. “We could watch a movie instead.”

Ray raised an eyebrow, looking the German over suspiciously. “What’s your play?”

“We could watch a movie,” Krieger repeated. “I have a bunch of DVDs in my van-”

“Nuh-uh. No rape vans for me, thank you.” He started closing the door again, but once again Krieger held it open.

“I was planning on bringing the DVDs in here,” he explained. “Look, it’s just that I drove all this way—and there may or may not be a vat of bioengineered explosive salamanders brewing in my apartment that need several hours to stabilize before I can reenter—so I’d like to spend some time with you.”

The blond watched the brunet for a while, skeptically studying his expression. After coming up with an alarming amount of sincerity from Krieger’s end, he took a deep, wary breath and reluctantly relaxed his defensive posture. “No sex.”

The doctor nodded enthusiastically. “No sex!” he confirmed.

"Alright. So, what movies you got?”

The German started reciting a list of movies to which Ray only half-listened (okay, quarter-listened), because he was too stuck in his own head to even watch a movie, much less decide which movie to not-watch.

Honestly, he was just glad he didn't have to be alone.

At first they just sat like guy friends, dude bros, on opposite sides of the couch. Ray stared blankly at the TV screen, obviously paying no attention while Krieger was so absorbed by the narrative that he mouthed the dialogue as it happened.

His mind wandered. His legs felt heavy and unreal, and he looked down at them with a nostalgic frown; it was a strange sensation, knowing that the bones in your body weren't real bones, that you were an abomination, a sci-fi freak experiment assembled at the hands of a mad scientist-

A mad scientist.

He looked to Krieger, expecting to see the doctor still enthralled by the film, but instead he was suddenly there, watching Ray with a thoughtful expression and sitting about a foot closer than he had been before.

Ray jumped in surprise, inching further away. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“I can fix them, you know.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“Your legs. If something is wrong, I can fix them.”

“What? No, honey, no, don’t worry about it. I’m just-”

Krieger reached for the remote and paused the movie. The silence bled into the room and Ray felt his chest tighten.

The scientist waited several moments for his colleague to finish the thought. When it became evident that there was no such intent, he prompted, “Look, man, you’re going to have to help me out here. I’m not... experienced, when it comes to comfort.”

“I’m just tired,” Ray said bluntly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, yeah, but you’re lying.”

“And what business is it of yours?”

Krieger frowned and glanced away; the blond sighed as guilt crept up into the back of his mind.

“Listen, it’s just... It doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel real.”

The German’s eyebrows flew up. “The skin? It’s one-hundred percent real. The majority of it was actually yours-”

“That’s not-” He sighed again. “I mean it doesn’t feel natural. Because it’s not, and I... Well, I can’t help but feel like I’m not really human anymore.”

“Oh.” Krieger blinks. “I didn’t...”

“It’s fine. It just happens every once in awhile, I get these days where I kinda wish I wasn’t a fuckin’ monster.”

He said “Oh,” again, and then they both stayed quiet for a long time.

It was heavy and thick. Ray chewed the inside of his lip, searching for something to do or say, because the conversation felt unfinished; Krieger was unusually stiff and well-postured, hands bracing his knees as he stared resolutely at the middle distance. Eventually, Ray gave up and leaned forward for the remote, but that’s when Krieger inhaled in preparation to speak.

The blond froze in place as that deep, tender voice said, “You’re not a monster, you know.”

He sat back up and looked at Krieger, lips parted slightly in surprise, and said nothing.

“You’re a human being,” he continued, “with thoughts and feelings and free will—for now, as far as you know—and even if you are a monster, I mean, I’m a clone of a fringe Mauthausen-Gusen experiment who was stolen from my home and brainwashed by Malory Archer when I was fifteen years old. Now, I live in a transitional neighborhood in an apartment crawling with irradiated insects and swine. So even if you are a monster... Well, I sort of am, too.”

Here, he turned his head to meet Ray’s eyes, a sad smile playing at the corners of his lips. Ray looked back into those deep green irises, world-weary and sincere, and took the doctor’s hand. “Krieger-”

“Besides!” he interrupted cheerfully, the weariness in his eyes switching back on into Christmas lights, enthusiastically squeezing Ray’s hand before letting go completely. “It should serve as some consolation that a solid—mmm, fifty percent?—of your body is still totally human! Pure, unadulterated, original, organic Gillette.” He patted Ray’s knee, the smile now almost contrived, then resumed the film.

As Ray looked back at the TV, he noticed that the emotion currently in the forefront of his mind was confusion. Close behind that, though, was comfort, and he found himself scooting closer to Krieger, resting a head on his shoulder, and laying a hand on his knee.

And when Krieger smiled, wrapped an arm around Ray’s waist, and started rubbing small circles into the small of his back, it didn’t feel unreal or unnatural anymore.

It felt right.

“And... selfie!”

“No! No, no, no, no, no.” He swatted the phone out of Krieger’s hand so fast the scientist actually flinched, blinking rapidly with a blank, dumbfounded expression.

“Um... Okay? I mean, what?”

“You can’t take pictures of us right after sex, you ass!”

“I take pictures of you after sex all the time.”

“Yeah, but- Wait, that only happened once.”

Krieger widened his eyes, glancing around nervously. “That’s- What are we- The number of pictures isn’t important.”

Ray sighed and rolled his eyes as he lit his post-coital cigarette. “Whatever, look—that’s different. I don’t care if you take pictures of me.”

“I, uh, don’t follow.”

“I just don’t want there to be pictures of... us. Like, both of us. Together.”

Krieger blinked again, furrowing his brow first in confusion, then in displeasure, then in simple thought, before the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed over and his expression softened into acceptance. “Oh.”

“Now, don’t get all pissy-”

“Yeah, no, I mean- I’m not!”

“It’s just—you know how everyone else is! They’ll be all like, ‘Ray, what the hell is wrong with you?’ ‘Ray, that’s disgusting.’ ‘Ray, have you gone literally insane and that’s why your judgement is so clouded that you’ve started bangin’ the human equivalent of that weird-shaped fruit they won’t sell to grocery stores?’”

Krieger just looked at Ray, lips parted and quivering slightly. A trace glimmer of betrayal shone in his eyes.

“I mean- That’s not-” Ray sighed. “I don’t feel that way! You know I don’t. I like you. I like spendin’ time with you and talkin’ to you and Lord knows I like fuckin’ you. But, I mean, you can’t honestly tell me you don’t think they’ll give us hell.”

Krieger shifted uncomfortably. “They aren’t the most... supportive bunch, are they?”

The blond chuckled, curling up on Krieger’s chest and pressing a firm kiss against it. “That they are not,” he confirmed. “So, I’d just appreciate it if no one... found out about this. Alright?”

He just ran a hand through Ray’s bedhead and tried not to think. “Yep,” he answered absently, chest hollow and dull.

“Yeah?”

“Yep yep yep.”

Krieger was in his lab one day, slaving over an M-16 that Archer had given him to customize, when—speak of the devil—in barged the man himself, laughing obnoxiously at some inevident joke. “Krieger! Kr- Ha! Krieger, come here, oh my- oh my God.”

“I’m a bit busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Modding your gun!” He held the rifle up, grinning ear-to-ear in pride of the modifications finished so far, but Archer didn't even look; he was too busy staring down at his phone—wait, no, that- that was Krieger’s phone.

“Hey- What're you doing with that?!” He put the gun down (delicately) before lunging across the table to snatch his cell back, but Archer easily avoided him.

“What are you doing with- holy shit, with pictures of Gillette on your phone?!”

“Don’t tell-” Pam. Lana. Anyone. Don’t tell anyone. Ray doesn’t want anyone to know, and-

Oh, shit. Ray didn't want anyone to know.

Not even—especially not—Archer. Because if anyone was gonna give Ray shit for fucking Krieger... oh, God. Krieger quickly figured out that this wasn’t going to be an ‘Archer, Ray and I have been sleeping together for the past two weeks but it’s a secret’ thing. This was an ‘I’ve been secretly taking pictures of Agent Gillette because I’m Krieger and I’m a pervert’ thing.

“...Ray,” he finally finished. “Don’t tell Ray.”

Like Archer would ever show that much mercy.

He took Krieger by the arm and dragged him out, cackling all the way. “Raayy!” he sang, all too pleased with himself. “We’ve got something to shooww yoouu!”

Ray wasn’t interested at all. When Krieger and Archer found him in the break room (Krieger sporting the promising beginning of a black eye from when he tried attacking Archer to get the phone back on the way up), he glanced up over the magazine he was reading and sighed, “What?”

“Krieger’s got nasty pictures of you on his phone! Like, sleeping! And- ugh, just look!” He shoved the phone into Ray’s hand, and the blond took it and flipped carefully through the pictures.

They were... sweet. In a Krieger-y way. It was still fucking creepy, yeah, but in a weirdly sweet Krieger-y way; they weren't even sex pictures, they were just sleepy pictures. Cute, sleepy pictures of Ray with eyes screwed shut, blankets drawn up around his shoulders, head resting on his arms. Plus, the creepiness factor was definitely subdued by the fact that they’d been sleeping together for half a month.

Although, Archer didn’t know that.

Dukes.

Ray glanced up at Krieger with an almost-apologetic look before he exclaimed, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?! This is disgusting!”

“Well, sor-ry for having a knack for art.”

“This isn’t art!”

“Photography is art!”

“This is stalking! For the love of- Ugh. Archer, get out.”

“What? Why?”

“I wanna talk to Adolf Dickler in private. See how hard these robot legs can kick him in the balls.”

Krieger widened his eyes. “I made those legs!”

“Then I hope for your sake you didn’t do a good job!”

The German winced. Archer laughed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Ray waited patiently to hear his footsteps disappear down the hall, then locked the door and turned back to the doctor.

“Good acting,” he noted, gently placing a hand on the side of Krieger’s face to inspect the gently swollen, purple-pink ring around his eye. “Jesus,” he sighed. “You gotta stop provoking him.”

“He’s really a good guy,” Krieger defended.

“Oh, honey, he’s really not. Speaking of...” Ray pulled the phone out and held it up. “What the hell man?”

“He stole it! I don’t know how! And who knows how he guessed my-”

“The PIN is 2112.”

He gasped with an almost comical level of drama, taking his phone and clutching it to his chest. “How did you-”

“Oh, please, honey, everyone knows it.” He crossed his arms and cocked a hip to the side. “Just try and be more careful, alright?”

“Of course, of course.” He unlocked his phone to start flipping through the pictures. “At least he didn’t see any of the more... unseemly photographs.”

“The what now?” Ray snatched the phone back and swiped through about a dozen photos of himself after sex, face flushed and hair a chaotic mess. In some, he was cute and sleepy, a lazy smile across his face; in some, he was totally fucked out, sticky and bruised. He smiled almost imperceptibly at the memory of seeing Krieger the same way, helping him put makeup over the bite marks on his neck, speaking German with him when he was half-asleep and too out of it to remember the English word for ‘Vorhaut.’

Krieger, who had moved to peer over Ray’s shoulder at the pictures, hummed softly at a particularly intimate photograph. “These would have been... more difficult to explain.”

Ray sighed. “It’s really creepy that you took these without me knowin’ about it. You know that, right? It’s pretty effed up.”

Krieger frowned. “Do you want me to... get rid of them?”

“No, it’s... It’s sweet. It’s effed up, but it’s sweet—and honestly, I’m scared of what you’ll start masturbating to if I take away the most normal material you’ve got.”

When the brunet just blushed and coughed awkwardly in response, Ray scowled.

“You’ve got a boner right now, don’t you?”

“Only, like, half-”

He rolled his eyes and spun on his heel to exit, tossing Krieger’s phone onto the breakroom table on the way out.

“Wha- Where are you going?”

“To your lab.” He stopped, turned around, and pulled Krieger toward him by the tie. His breath ghosted heavy and warm in Krieger’s ear when he said, “And in five minutes, you’re gonna meet me down there.”

Krieger’s heart actually (literally) stopped for a solid two-and-a-half seconds. He gulped and watched Ray walk away, eyes wide.

Something was telling him he was about to take a lot more pictures.

When they became official, Krieger cried—literally. He scooped Ray up in a massive hug (“Jesus, man! Put me down!”) and giggled like a little girl. Ray pretended not to notice the little signs of wetness in the corners of the scientist’s eyes once he finally released his grip.

“Good gracious God, Krieger, y’know we basically passed the point of no return the first time we hung out without having sex.”

“But once you say it out loud, there's no turning back.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ray mumbled, but he couldn't suppress his smile when Krieger wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in close.

“I intend to. I will remind you multiple times every day, at regular intervals. As well as everyone on the planet.”

“Wait, Krieger, no. I don't want anyone knowing about us. Remember?”

“What—even now?”

“Especially now! Krieger, you said it was okay if we didn't tell anyone.”

“I, uh- It is! Of course it is, I just- Yes! Yes, it’s fine.”

“Krieger-”

“Ray.” He rested a hand on Ray’s shoulder and offered a small smile. “They don’t need to know. We’ve got each other, and that’s all we need.”

“Oh, you big cornball,” Ray scoffed, but his grin gave him away. “Now—if my boyfriend would accompany me to a shady movie theatre for popcorn and handjobs...”

Krieger’s eyes lit up like Christmas, and dammit if that wasn’t Ray’s favorite sight to see.

Krieger knew that Ray was ashamed of him. Honestly, though, that was okay. It wasn’t exactly hard to see why the idea of sleeping with Krieger would be revolting—you’d have to be blind (and deaf, and it wouldn’t hurt to lack a sense of smell) to not know that Krieger had some... unconventional tastes in the bedroom. With Ray, he took extra-special care to avoid overstepping boundaries, and not once had he initiated (or even talked about) a single thing unless Ray explicitly expressed interest first. But they wouldn't know that.

If the idea of sleeping with Krieger wasn’t disgusting enough, the idea of dating him? Well, that would have been social suicide.

That didn’t mean it didn't hurt his feelings, but... Krieger was terrified to rock the boat.

Ray was incredible. He was handsome, talented, and simultaneously normal and extraordinary in the most mind blowing way. He could move on from Krieger; he’d done this whole dating thing before and would do it again. For Krieger, though, it was the first time he’d ever had feelings—real, human feelings for a real human being—so if he decided to make this difficult, decided to be an ass and make a big deal out of it even though he knew exactly why Ray felt the way he did, Ray could just leave. And Krieger would be alone.

Ray was the best thing that ever happened to him. He wasn’t about to jeopardize that for the sake of his own ego.

That being said, Krieger was a man who was very open about his feelings. And he wasn't used to hiding them, so... he messed up sometimes.

Take that Wednesday, for example. Ray had been gone almost five days on a mission, and when Krieger came up from his lab to see that his boyfriend was back, safe and sound and all in one piece, he ran forward and threw his arms around Ray without taking note of the other people in the room.

Automated instinct made Ray hug back for a brief half-second before he froze and pushed Krieger off, scowling as if he’d just smelled something horrible. “Jesus, Krieger! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Hey, why all the PDA all of a sudden?” Cyril asked, backing up as if he was afraid he might be subjected to physical contact, as well.

“Yeah, ew!” Cheryl chimed in, narrowing her eyes at the scientist. “Ever heard of personal space, jackass?”

Pam, Lana, and Malory all threw in their two cents, as well, but Ray continued on.

“Seriously, you pervert! God, get off me—I don’t know where you’ve been!”

Maybe Ray oversold it. But he was desperate and terrified that anyone might find out, and honestly, he was a little pissed at Krieger, too; what kind of an idiot just barges in like that without realizing the room is full of people?

Krieger played along. He played along perfectly. He laughed it off, fabricated an excuse off the top of his head, and threw out a few quirky Krieger-isms to make it extra convincing.

But there was this look on his face, right before he got into character. His green eyes shone with a soft, dull light, and his eyebrows pulled together into a hurt, apologetic knot. He looked like a kicked puppy, and it tore into Ray’s heart.

There was nothing he could do, though; not in that moment. He continued to play the part, join in with the others for a few more minutes of ripping on Krieger, then the doctor receded back into his lab and all was normal again.

It was a few hours later when Ray managed to steal away into the lab, descending the steps carefully and knocking softly on the wall once he found which room his boyfriend was in. “Knock, knock,” he said softly, and Krieger looked up with one eyebrow raised.

The agent took a deep breath and stepped hesitantly forward. “Algernop...”

“Look, Ray, I’m s-”

He interrupted the German with a, “Bup!” and held up a finger to stop him. “Don’t worry about it. I, uh... I missed you. While I was gone.”

Krieger hummed fondly at that, closing the distance between himself and Ray before gently taking his hand. “Ich Habe dich auch vermisst.”

Ray smiled.

“Who is it?”

“Nobody.”

“I know you’ve been seeing somebody, Ray.”

“I have not!”

Lana crossed her arms skeptically, barely hiding the growing smirk on her face. “Honey. Come on. You’re practically glowing, you haven’t been going to Fetish Night the past few weeks, and you don’t turn into a little schoolgirl every time someone hits on you, anymore.”

“No one likes a Nosy Nellie, girl.”

“Yeah, no one likes a Secretive Sally, either.”

“Ugh—We are not having lunch together anymore.”

“Raayy! Come on, who is it? Is he cute? Did you meet him at the club? I bet he’s like, a tall Chris Hemsworth type with washboard abs and gorgeous tan skin.”

Ray snorted. “Not exactly.”

“Ha! So there is a guy!”

He let out an indignant squeak. “No! No, there’s no-”

“Come on, this is fun! Is he a circuit queen?”

“No!”

“Is he a twink?”

“I- No, Lana.”

“Is he tall?”

Ray stared at Lana for a long moment, attempting to out-will her, but of course he eventually failed and gave up, sitting back in his chair with an exaggerated eye roll. “He’s my height.”

“Ooh! Okay, okay. Is he... Oh, does he wear glasses?”

“No.”

“Does he have tattoos?”

“Nope.”

“Well, alright, how about you tell me what he does have?”

Ray ducked his head down in slight embarrassment as he calculated his answer. “He’s... sweet. He’s not really my type, but he’s sweet.”

“So he’s ugly?”

“No!” Ray laughed, pushing Lana’s arm. “No, you bitch, he’s good-looking, just... not the type I usually go for. But he’s nice. He’s smart—he’s smarter than me.”

“Holy shit.” She smiled, amused, and sat back in her seat, sipping her iced coffee like she knew something. “You really like this guy.”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t like anybody.”

“You do! You’re totally in like with him. Okay, how’d you two meet?”

“Oh, who remembers?” he deflected, taking a big bite of his chocolate croissant. “We’ve known each other for a while.”

“Oooh! Do I know him?”

“Wh- No.”

“You lying whore! Who is he? He’s not from work, is he?”

“You’re not gonna get it out of me.”

“Okay, so he’s your height, no glasses, no tattoos, and I know him.”

“Stop it, girl. Dangerous territory, here.”

She leaned in close, squinting, and looked deep into Ray’s eyes, scrutinizing and deliberately intense. The blond glanced nervously from side to side, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He could see all the thoughts running through Lana’s head, all the calculations, and dammit, this was why you never tried to keep secrets from spies. “What color is his hair?”

He closed his eyes, at this point only hoping to delay the inevitable. “Brown.”

“Eyes?”

“Green.”

“He have any hobbies?”

“God damn,” Ray sighed, reluctant to give up any more information. “He has... Projects?”

The exact moment that it hit her was ridiculously obvious to pinpoint. Her eyes went wide and her face fell, her lips parting in shock. “Holy shit.”

“Dukes.”

“Really? Him?”

He groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Dukes.”

“Ray, honey. Be careful.”

And then something switched inside of Ray. He felt a twist in his gut and he looked back up at his friend with narrow eyes. “And just what is that s’posed to mean?”

“I mean—Girl. Are you serious? It’s Krieger. He’s practically a Nazi, for one-”

“Oh, please-”

“And for two,” Lana pressed on, “he’s a fricken psychopath! Or a pervert, at the very least-”

“Watch it, honey!”

“I’m worried about you! What, did he Stockholm Syndrome you?” Her expression softened suddenly, and she placed a gentle hand over Ray’s. “Ray, honey, is he... Is he hurting you?”

“Jesus!” Ray pulled his hand back, scowling. “He’s not a goddamn monster, Lana! He’s sweet, and cute, and I’m happy! Yeah, he’s sort of a freak, but- Jesus, I like him, okay? He’s a good cook, and he has soft hands, and he does this thing where he starts drumming on his legs when he gets excited about something, and I don’t think he even notices it. He’s... really thoughtful, and weirdly sexy. And I’m not a fuckin’ idiot—I know how to take care of myself! You know if he tried anything funny I’d shoot his dick off.”

Lana blinked, watching Ray’s expression and letting several silent moments pass before saying, “Okay.” It was simple, but it was enough. She just nodded thoughtfully and accepted Ray’s defense. “Okay.”

“You’re damn right it’s okay,” he huffed, standing up and pulling out a cigarette to ignite. “He’s weird, yeah, and he’s a little crazy, but he’s a human being.”

As he lit the cigarette and breathed in a long, satisfying stream of smoke, Lana put money on the table for their meals, then finally said, “I’m glad you’re happy,” a small (but honest) attempt to ease the tension.

He just sighed. “Thanks, girl,” he mumbled, then he walked away.

Ray analysed his feelings a lot on the drive back to work.

He’d expected to be utterly humiliated if someone were to find out about him and Krieger. But instead of being ashamed of him, he just got... defensive. Because how dare Lana criticise Krieger like that? How could she pretend she knows what’s best for Ray when she never even gave Krieger a chance?

Krieger was a good kisser, a really good kisser. In the bedroom, he was careful and respectful and never did anything Ray didn’t want to do. He cuddled Ray with all his heart, and when he thought Ray might get up or leave, he hung on tighter and pretended to be asleep. He played with Ray’s hair and kissed the nape of his neck and helped him do morning sit ups.

He was weird. He was really weird, and kind of scary, but Ray didn’t give a shit. He was Krieger—Ray wasn't exactly sure when that stopped being a bad thing.

It didn’t matter.

Algernop mattered.

“Where’s Krieger?” It was one of the first things out of his mouth when he got back to the office.

“He’d dicking around in the conference room,” Pam answered. “Why?”

“I wanna talk to ‘im.”

Archer laughed, annoyingly. “Why? Is he still stalking you?”

“Krieger!” Pam shouted. “Get your Dolly-ass out here!”

The doctor strode into the room on cue, eyebrows raised almost dubiously. “You rang?”

Then, Ray kissed him. Hard, full, and deep. He walked right up to the scientist, gently took his face in his hands, and kissed him openly, willingly, in front of everybody.

Krieger first tensed, then hesitated, then followed through. His final sign of acceptance was a soft, content hum into Ray’s mouth as the blond let his hands slide into Krieger’s hair, around the back of his head to pull him closer, and Krieger’s hands landed instinctively on Ray’s hips.

“Holy shitsnacks.”

“Dude, Ray, what the- what the hell?”

“Have fun with his girly-ass hands!”

Cyril insisted on continuing to press for information. “Ray! What’s going on? Can you, like, actually stop for a second and talk to us about this? I mean, can you physically stop? Or is he... drugging you, or something?”

“Oh, please, he’s obviously a robot.”

“Ha! Right?”

“Why would Krieger make a sex robot off of Ray?”

Ray finally pulled back from the kiss with an exasperated huff and indignantly started, “You know-!”

But Krieger put a finger to his lips, his smile gentle and warm, and shushed his boyfriend softly. “To the van?”

Fond little chuckles danced on Ray’s breath as he looked back at Krieger and let himself forget about everyone else. “Alright, honey,” he smiled. “Lead the way.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yep.”

“That was... Holy shit.”

“Yep yep yep!”

“I mean... Seriously, holy shit!”

“Are you capable of saying anything other than ‘holy shit?’” Krieger teased, the smirk on his face entirely too smug.

Ray clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Oh, go to hell.”

“Fine,” the scientist conceded. “But first...” He reached over to retrieve his phone from the pocket of his slacks, haphazardly strewn over one of the seats, and held it up with a small smile, one eyebrow hopefully raised. “Selfie?”

Ray rolled his eyes at the doctor, but he posed for several photographs without protest.

And if he started keeping a few pictures of Krieger on his phone just for himself... Well, that was nobody’s goddamn business.

#archer #archer fx #fanfiction #krayger #dr krieger #ray gillette #Fiktion

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