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It’s on a certain step of pavement that he’s sent away, lifted off the road, feet kicking among the night air. Stebbins is left on the ground, and Ray finally feels like he’s accomplished something. He smiles for what feels like once in a lifetime, when and only when, he sees it: His mom’s house.
There’s a long blow of cold air over his face, as he floats off to the porch. His feet land on the familiar porch, softly, making the wood creak with effort. He raps his knuckles against the birch, tentatively.
The door creaks open, but he sees no one inside. His stomach bubbles something stupid, and his jaw clenches.
This is his home, he thinks, double tapping the doorknob. Maybe ma left the door unlocked.
Stepping inside, his feet feel.. fine. Way better than before, actually. He could almost dance, slide around in his socks on the flooring and pretend like he’s been here the whole time.
His mouth waters at the thought of being within close proximity of an oven, or seasoning, and a toilet. He calls out for his mom once, then twice, his brows knitting together. Her absence stuck pricks into his brain, and his palms ran over with sticky, grimy sweat. “Mom?!”
He inhales, raking his hands through his hair. “Dumbass.” Shaking his head, he comforts himself with a visage of her picking out groceries at the store, his body pooling over with a sense of calm. He touches the table in the dining room, runs a finger along the wall, collecting dust. His finger runs all the way to his bedroom door, which stops him in his tracks.
His Adam's apple bobs in his throat. He swallows like he’s on the brink of being caught during a robbery, seeing red and blue out of the corner of his eye. His heart beats in staccato, when he gently pushes the door open, eyes squeezed shut.
There’s silence for a moment, so he opens his eyes.
Then, his balls drop to the floor.
Not literally, of course, but the universe is eternally plotting against him forever, because-- What the hell is STEBBINS doing in his bed? Much less his house?! It pisses Ray off how he’s looking up at him like he’s just as confused. Not to mention that the guy (if he can even be called that, he’s truly more machine than man) is already grabbing things.
“What do you have?” He says, testily, like he’s testing with an animal. “What did you grab-”
Then, get this, Stebbins waves the.. Article around, like it's nothing. “You wind a very nice watch, Garraty.. And you keep a very nice home, I must say.” He whistles lowly,
“/Why/ are you fuckin’ around with my mags? Wait, no, better question: WHY are you in my house?” He reaches for it, but Stebbins conveniently rolls over onto his tummy. His suspenders are undone and his hat is set off on the ground. Ray’s eyebrows furrow at how comfortable he looks. “Your guess is as good as mine, wonderboy.”
Ray’s hands go up to grab his temple, “This is so fucked!”
“It could be worse. It could be him.”
“Don’t talk about Barkovitch like that, man.”
“Who mentioned Barkovitch?”
A silence rings out between the two. Stebbins starts to flip through the magazine, “How old are you again?”
“Okay-”
“You really didn’t have a girlfriend, Garraty?” Stebbins tries his best to sound neutral, but his eyes betray him.
Ray groans, “I did! She just… wanted to wait. So I got busy.”
“And you told her that you let the curves of other women invade your mind? Corroding your mind and manipulating “Maine’s Best” Ray Garraty into craving the sweet careen of flesh on flesh,” The air shifts, as it always did when he got like this.
“How many women have crossed your mind while the world was blanketed in darkness, Garraty? Brigitte Bardot? Monroe? Peter Mcvries? Jane Fonda?”
The room warps around Stebbins’ frame, and Ray’s visage fills with red. “He’s dead. Stop it.”
“Audrey Hepburn? Elizabeth Taylor?”
“I said stop, motherfucker! You can’t understand English?!”
“That word..” Stebbins taps his lips, eyebrows curling upward, “I wonder why you used that word..”
Ray steps closer to him, hands balled at his sides, thin lips pressed into a straight line. A pang of dizziness hits him, and he wobbles a little. With the world warping, it almost looks like Stebbins’ finally cracks a smile. “What do you think they would do if they knew?”
Ray feels his mouth move for him, “Know what? They don’t need to know anything.”
“You dance the dance of the fae, Ray Garraty. Papa Stebbins knows that good and well. There’s no judgement here.” He pats his knee, and Ray feels ever so inclined to shuffle across the floor of his room toward him- But he resists.
“You wouldn’t know shit if you smelled it.” Ray nearly growls, supporting himself on the wall when he feels himself wobble.
“‘As I went down th’ river, poor boy,’” Stebbins starts to sing, in a haunting baritone, “‘to see the ships go by.. My sweetheart stood on the deck of one.. And she waved to me goodbye..’”
Ray freezes up, quiet as a mouse, his body overtaken by his voice rattling off the walls of the room. They send shockwaves back toward him, knocking him onto his knees.
“She come at me with a big jack-knife. I went at her with lead. An' when the fight was over, poor boy.. she laid beside me dead..” Ray feels hands pulling him up by the scalp, and his head drops down onto the edge of the bed, cheek melting into the softness of the cushion. Stebbins pinches his cheeks, whistling the melody like a lullaby.
Stebbins’ eyes flood with red, and for a second, Ray swears he’s got the head of a hare. Rabbit Stebbins’ big fluffy ears twitch, and his nose scrunches up. “Bow down..” His tremolo stretches, “your head,” and Ray’s eyes go blank, “and cry.”
“Ray.” Pete?
“Ray, my baby..” Mom?
...
“Garraty,” Now Ray’s standing again, and Stebbins is lying down on the bed with the magazine, and everything’s.. Back to normal, “This is grade-A stuff.”
“Shut up, man.”
Thunder claps outside.
Stebbins looks to the window, “You think it’ll stay bad, Garraty?”
“..I think so. Yeah.” Ray’s knees wobble, and he sits down on the floor, criss-cross applesauce. His eyebrows knit together, “Stebbins, I think I--”
“I wish I had it. His lips looked so soft.”
Ray glares up at him, and Stebbins continues, pitching his voice up a bit. “Oh, how I wish he got to hold me.. and caress me.. and kiss my bruises away.. Oh, Mcvries-”
He bunches up his knees to his chest, and covers his ears. “You’re not funny.”
“And /you’re/ stuck here. Entertain me.” Stebbins flings the magazine into Ray’s face, "What's her name?”
“I don’t /know/. She’s just a girl-”
“Was Jan just a girl?”
“Cut it out.”
“Do you think about kissing that girl like you thought about McVries? Kissing me?”
“I’m not a-! I’m not!” Ray’s eyes bug out.
“Have you ever tried it before?” Stebbins chortles, “Don’t worry, Garraty, I’ll be your sloppy seconds.”
Ray almost growls, hopping up onto his feet, and then moving to tackle Stebbins. Stebbins laughs the loudest he’s ever laughed, and they tug themselves into a wrestle. It’s like a two man rat king, with nails scratching skin, and Ray starts to laugh too.
“I already know I’m dead,” Ray haws, “But good thing is? That means you’re dead too. You know what that means? I can strangle you until you turn blue, then white, and I can do it over- and over and over-”
He catches Stebbins’ jaw in between his abs, but not squeezing, because he knows that Stebbins is gonna flip him over. When the stronger (because Stebbins has always been stronger) boy pins him so that his neck is on the mattress, his mouth catches into a frown.
“And you love that?” Stebbins squeezes, putting on the pressure, as he always did. “You’re having fun?”
Ray strains, “I’m having so much fun-”
Thunder claps, and Ray falls into his own rendition of ‘Poor Boy’ complete with Stebbins curling his abs around his neck, and his teeth sinking down into his bottom lip.
Stebbins leans closer to Ray’s face, breathing in his air. Heat rises between them.
“I can do it for you.” He breathes, “Be your girl. Looks like you need someone to keep you company.”
Ray’s breathing scales, and he grabs the sides of his face.
"Don't be scared." Stebbins whispers, almost inaudible. "Be the serpent."
Thunder claps.
He kisses him, deep, and Stebbins slips him some tongue in kind. They tussle, now in a soft grind of hips, with Stebbins keening up into his mouth. Ray's breathing grows progressively more intense, with him nearly gasping for air when Stebbins barely breaks away.
His entire body feels wet.
Another thunderclap sends him back into his body, stumbling onto the pavement and into a warning. Stebbins walks alongside him, eyes locked onto him deadset like he's a target, a big ginger target. He'd be flattered, if not given the circumstances.
"Maybe we should call you Sleepwalkin' Garraty.. Ray of moonshine.." Stebbins searches for something, but then gives up, still walking like normal underneath the pooling rain.
It feels so lonely, knowing that it wasn't real.
"You have a nice dream?"
"It was okay."
"I'm sure." His eyes flitter down.
Ray looks down, and for surely sees the half chub he's sporting. Is he really that deprived of touch? Depraved? "Natural human response. I bet you don't even jerk off, you fuckin'... You."
"You don't know what I do."
"That's not a response!"
Their banter fades into the night. Stebbins gives, at some point, and a bullet ends the sentence.
When Ray runs, he doesn't know what he sees.
But he knows. He knows what he wants to see.