"Look, it’s gonna take that dude 15 years before he realises what he’s missing. He’s missing a lot, because you’re fucking magic. If that’s too long to wait, I can get Lemmy from Motorhead to cut off his cheeks with a straight razor. Totally up to you."
[ Magic. It was fucking magic. The cool thing about problems - sad thing about them too in some ways - was that generally speaking if you threw loads of moolah at them they went away. Actually money wasn't always necessary, which was shitty in some ways and awesome in others. The first couple of times the novelty had been amazing: You're doing this for free? But the shine had worn off. It wasn't fun. What was the opposite of fun? Unfun? Sounded dirty.
But whatever, he could say that he'd give some guy he'd never met twenty big ones to fly to LA and BAM, off he'd go and jump on a jet (almost) no questions asked. That was the big time, baby. That was what it was all about, the American fucking Dream. They didn't tell you how falling for it hook, line and sinker meant getting sucked, swallowed and shit out at the other end.
He loved it. He loathed it. He put on all the Lew Ashby against the world he could stand and then when it got too hard he got wasted, and things got plenty easy again. Everything went away until it didn't, and then there was more free stuff and another week, month, year would blow itself away--literally.
The normal people, though, they were the real fucking deal. They reminded him how it used to be, and not altogether in a horrible way. The way he could inspire awe - that was what he'd felt too once upon a time - he still had that. Man, he still loved the music, too; it was one of the few things in life he still had real passion for. He loved to blow their minds though. Somehow it let him see it through the eyes of something more innocent, something he'd never have again, and he loved and hated that, the ultimate contradiction. He was an outsider to the magic now he was finally able to make it. How the fuck did that work? But he did get the kick. He liked the kick.
But where that kid was - the one with the broken Mustang - he had no idea. Lost him somewhere. Intersection after intersection back in the shitend of the abyss.
He had the magic, though, and the coke, and the pussy, so who the fuck cared?
His driver sounded cagey when he called her. Evasive. That was weird. She was usually cold as ice, sharp as a knife, a whole bunch of other descriptions that meant that she was a huge badass. He hadn't been sure of her to start with, but he respected her, and she liked him, and that was a pretty kookie kind of relationship in Ashbyland. Still, the plane had come in, the guy was coming with his phone and apparently he was 'reasonably good looking, if you liked that sort of thing'. Seriously fucking cagey. What the hell did that even mean?
He rubbed his cheeks with both hands, bracing himself, then stepping out into the dusk as the car pulled up. Moment of truth. Well--the point was getting his phone back, right? Except it had stopped being that a long time ago. This was about breaking the monotony, and he'd needed a good excuse to interact with a Normal for a long time now. Someone who didn't come to him wanting something. Sure, it was a business transaction, but he'd paid more for a single night of company before. Twenty thou was practically a bargain.
If he threw a party after all twenty thou would be a drop in the ocean.
His driver slid out of her seat, didn't look at him (weird), stepped around and opened the backwards facing door. Lew's nerves strained to their limit. Come on, come on. So much fucking anticipation just to get a look at a dude, but there it was, and here they went. He bounced on his heels irritably. ]
[Monotony wasn't something Ray ever tended to struggle with since Fraser had been thrown into his life, part of the whole undercover package deal. But there was that whole issue with Fraser being Fraser that drove a guy to, just occasionally, really wanting a fucking break. Just a day or two away from the incessant work ethic that had Ray being awake at all hours of the day-- seriously, 6am should be deemed as a new form of torture. He loved the Mountie, his Mountie, he really did, but he also loved the idea of time spent being irresponsible and drinking or sitting around in his underwear all day or just not being influenced by Canada for two god damn seconds.
That text conversation on a phone that wasn't even his had been bizarre. None of it seemed real, especially not the contents of the picture folder. Most of those tits were fake, for sure, but the selfies were... well he hadn't looked since, didn't dare to, but it just didn't make any sense. There wasn't even any point in trying to explain it to himself when he had no answers, and maybe this guy knew and this was all a set up. Or just maybe he'd be as clueless as Ray.
Either way it was impossible to turn down the offer of a free holiday, all expenses paid. Set up or not, Ray had to at least try this out just to see. Maybe he wouldn't be able to accept the twenty grand on principle of his job and all, but taking a last minute few days off to fly out to LA was just too good to turn down. He really, really hoped this was for real, but he couldn't get his hopes up until he knew for sure.
He'd managed to ditch work early, say his brief goodbyes to Fraser and get home to pack an overnight bag in record quick time. He got a taxi to the airport, considered how amazing that 20k would be in helping pay for stupidly high cab fares, and then found where he'd been told to go.
Having low expectations usually works out pretty well for Ray. It means he's rarely disappointed. But it also means that his mind is blown when he's met with something so far above expectations that he literally can't even imagine it in reality. He got a jet. A fucking jet to take him with no squeezing into economy seats and being stuck next to arm rest hoggers and screaming babies and fat guys that ooze into his half of the chair. There's no way he can sleep. This is a once in a lifetime deal and he still can't believe it even after take off. Maybe he should have dressed up better. Maybe the overnight bag, the worn jeans, the biker boots and the faded Chicago Bulls t-shirt weren't the best of choices, but fuck it, they were him and if he couldn't feel comfortable in those then he wasn't going to be comfortable.
There's even the driver and the stupidly sized car to pick him up. Sure, she's a little quiet upon introduction and looks more suspicious than someone in a spy movie, but Ray mumbles out some awkward excuse of cousins or some shit- he can't even remember- and then he's being whisked away through the LA streets, the setting sun all but adding to the fairytale style evening. Of course there's going to be a mansion. Of fucking course there would be. He's not sure why he expected anything less after what he's seen so far, but he's still staring in awe at the view all the way up the drive, only eventually distracted by the figure emerging from the doorway.
Jesus, that's weird. The movements, the posture, the face, the hair. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Maybe... shit, the car door is opening whether he likes it or not, and while it's tempting to slink further inside to avoid the gaze, he realises there's really no way out of this.
With one deep inhale for courage, he slides out of the back seat and to his feet, lingering at the car like he's half expecting to have to leave all too quickly.]
[ He stops, he stares, his brain ticks over from the uncharacteristic idleness - stalls - gets a jump start, and then he's springing down the steps like a much younger man (haha), crossing straight over and closing the car door behind Ray before he can get a chance to bolt. That moment when they get close his chest bumps into Ray's shoulder - it's fucking electricity, like something forbidden - and then suddenly he's breaking into a grin, dazzling, dangerous teeth, and the weight of his arm snakes across Ray's back and pulls him against his side.
The universe doesn't explode, so he supposes that's something. It feels good though. Exciting. Terrifying. He likes that feeling, it's like getting high again for the first time.
His eyes snap toward his driver. "If you like that kind of thing? That's cute." She shrugged, clearly fighting back a smirk, and got back into the car, and Lew steered Ray up toward the house, still reeling but using the physical movement both to give himself some time to process and to stop himself from staring again.
Holy fucking shit. Where did you even start to process crap like this? He didn't know what the fuck to do with himself, and of course Ray seemed as unnerved by the whole thing too. He looked what? Ten years younger? Not young enough to be the son of some accidental lay he'd had as a teenager. Someone might have guessed more, but Lew remembered this stage, had looked it in the mirror for years, his own fucking baby face like he was Sid Vicious, perpetually trying to look older and harder than he felt. This wasn't just a close thing, this was his face. That was his ear, his flinty blue eyes, his fluffy muff of a head of hair growing in all the same directions, widow's peak and all. How did that happen? And how in the universe, of all the people he could get flown out to LA, had it been this guy who got his phone?
Ray had had the day to get used to the idea - no wonder he'd gone so weird after he'd looked through his gallery - but Ashby was relying on his sheer nerve to hold his shit together. His intent to treat him like he was just some schmo he'd picked up off the street out of charity dissolved though. This wasn't usual, and it didn't call for the usual Ashby impression, song and dance and strippers. Suddenly all he wanted to do was park this guy in front of a pair of speakers, share a bottle or a few and listen to music while Ray told him his life story. And that would be a dumb waste of time. A waste of Ray's time anyway.
He raised his free hand, putting his thumb against the corner of his mouth and rubbing it against his teeth on that side, thinking hard. Okay, okay first thing's first, break this creepy ass silence: ]
So uh. You uh. You have a good - uh - flight?
[ Pair of pro conversers here, oh yes. Of course Ray had his voice too. The universe was fucking fucked, spewing out two of them? Like one work of scrawny, squirrely, blue eyed perfection wasn't enough? ]
You wanna see the house?
[ There, that was neutral. Normal. Nothing about this was normal. But what did you say to your clone double? Hey, strip naked I wanna see if we're really identical?
[Ray's unsure about every part of this. Unsure whether this guy is going to freak the fuck out, or punch him in the face or turn out to be some sort of psycho. Suddenly the money and the jet ride and the mansion seem kind of insignificant when he's faced with what appears to be a clone of him. Although, if he's the younger one, does that make him the clone? This guy, after all, was definitely older. By how much, Ray wasn't sure, but he was assuming around ten years, mid to late forties. It's reassuring to know that he might actually one day look older than a university student.
He sees the brief flicker of 'wtf' coursing through this Ashby guy, of him trying to process the information just as Ray had when he'd first seen that photo. Photos are easier to fake, this? This was pretty much all real.
But then he's approaching, bounding down the stairs and slipping in close as the door gets pushed shut behind him and suddenly Ray's left being tugged in against the other and led away. Up close it was even stranger, but it's apparently rude to stare (so his mom always told him) so other than a quick gawp to try and process what he's seeing, his attention flicks in front of him.
He's not sure what he wants to do with his older clone type guy, but right now he's just got why? why? why? why? running through his head and he's not sure if that will ever be answered. Mystery of the universe.
That smile was his smile, all curled lips and bared teeth, and he's pretty sure it's contagious because he finds himself mirroring (very literally mirroring) the look, if perhaps just a little more awkwardly. This was Ashby's domain, not Ray's. Ray was out of his element in every way.]
Yeah. Yeah, it was uh, good.
[Grand masters of literacy, and Ray's only adding to that with another:] Yeah. [Clipped on to the second question.
Go figure they sound identical. Maybe Ashby's a little deeper, but maybe that's just that you never quite sound the same to your own ears. Could be that Ray's Chicago accent (if it can even be called that) throws the tone up, who knows? Whatever, he'd have to hear more before he knew for sure. Right now it's just a weird detail piled on top of masses of other weird details.]
You, you seriously own this?
[Pretty much blows Ray's tiny one bedroom apartment out of the atmosphere.]
[ Man it's good to see that smile flashed back at him. It's like yeah, I look good, except this guy isn't actually literally him, just genetically, perfectly identical in every way. Weird. Weird but awesome. He was only just opening up to the possibilities of what to do with that, but they seemed endless. What a lark it would be! He could claim he'd found the fountain of youth, or maybe after he died this guy could come haunt the place professionally. Maybe they could switch places on the same girl halfway through and see if she noticed. Hah.
He dropped his hand away from his teeth and nudged Ray ahead of him up the narrow staircase. So many fucking steps, but it made the best of good first impressions with the house towering above the way it did, and Ashby thrived on his showmanship. He all but chased Ray up the stairs. ]
Yeah I own it. Hey, you wanna be my long lost brother? I'll be fucked if I'm going to give this place to the Federal Government. Up up up. Climb that mountain, gotta keep on climbing, top of the fucking world.
[ He sprang onto the porch beside him and gestured widely to dusk over the canyon, the house, to his general domain. ]
Tada!
[ Up here in the bright outside lights - all the better for partygoers to not fall to their deaths with - he was able to get a much better look at Ray, and he made no bones about doing it either. He'd been right about the eyes, the teeth, the jawline, and the harder he looked for something to be different, the clearer it became that there was nothing, except for maybe the accent and the age. He raised his chin a little defiantly. Weird, but not not nice. They stood there, identical height, identical hair, identical stubble - Lew had more scratchy gray beard, but if he shaved it he looked younger, and he hated that - both of them wearing ragged t-shirts and worn jeans, both of them dirty blond and edge of a knife dangerous. ]
Fucking A. [ He declared, rubbed his hand back through his mess of hair. ]
Beer, beer, beer, whiskey, beer? Yes? Yes. Lead the way, Little Me, bar's thatta way. Inside, uh huh. Help yourself. There's uh--there's everything.
[ Keep moving, never hold still. Moving meant thinking, and thinking meant not groping Ray's ass as they went in the front door, which of course he did--how could he resist? ]
[This could work. Ashby seems willing enough to accept he has a younger twin kicking about and Ray sure doesn't mind beyond the burning curiosity about it all. Life is weird, everyone knows that. Just because the universe throws you a seriously weird curve ball every now and then doesn't mean you had to stop moving. They could go with this. They'd obviously managed to live decades as they are already without any knowledge of one another, and it's not like they were neighbours. They could enjoy this, explore it, and then carry on with their lives in totally different states just like they'd always done.
Asby's got energy, and that's pretty cool because so does Ray, plenty of it. He bounds up the steps when prompted only lingering long enough to make sure he's being followed. There's something mentioned about being a long lost brother and the Government and Ray's not entirely sure what's going on but he's thankfully not given much time to think on it. Instead he turns his attention to the view, barely able to process it all. His poor brain is on overload trying to sort through far too much information, none of which Ray's used to. Twins are weird enough, but being invited into a place like this outside of work hours is just out of this world. He'd never had a rich friend in his life, never had the opportunity to see something like this when in central Chicago.
He's fine with being eyed up. Can't blame the guy for it, not when they still both had to absorb this whole identical thing that Ray's not sure they'll be getting over any time soon. There's too much to see, too much to ask, and way too much to find out. Look all you want, older me, we got time.
He looks back but everything about this is blowing his tired little mind.
Not that he's given much time to think on that either, because there's the doors and apparently a bar which sounds like a damn good idea right now. Alcohol might help dull his racing thoughts.]
Hey! Not yours. I got a strict drink and dinner policy.
[Which is a lie, but ass grabs shouldn't really be a first greeting gesture by most societal rules. Not that this guy looked like he followed any rules. He's like what Ray had always wanted as a teen, that punked rock star look carried over no matter how old, and sure maybe Ray still tried to live by it to this day, but this guy was living the dream.]
Beer. Beer would be a good start, man.
[The bar isn't hard to find, but that doesn't mean he can't get distracted by pretty much everything on the way in. This was so unreal.]
[ Rules? What were rules? It was true, though. That ass was his, and maybe Ray didn't know it yet - maybe he'd figured it out and was just putting up one of those perfunctory little fights just to prove he wasn't easy - but it was only a matter of time. There was something bucket list about it, like that impossible bucket list of things people could never do: go fuck yourself. Why not? And that grin, that mouth? How many times had he thought about going down on himself, what that would feel like? Looked himself in the eye as he came? Oh yeah, it was filthy as sin, but that was how Ashby liked to live his life. Dirty and fast. If he enjoyed himself then who the fuck cared?
He didn't know how much convincing Ray would take, but by the state of him and the way he was looking around the place like he'd just died and gone to punk heaven, it didn't seem like they were both wildly different from each other. Richer and poorer maybe, but Ray had that dirty grin--he had to have learned something in his life to put it there. And hey, he hadn't punched him in the face for having a little feel. He was well in there.
Lew grinned, stepping in through the doors. Big room, big windows, couches, chilling out space. It was all good. Distracting for people who hadn't been there before, but it couldn't be helped. It was a rite of passage and a passage of rights, records on the ceiling, instruments left in corners and laid on top of amplifiers and dangling from straps on pegs.
The big, dark wooden room with its corner stage was the next one along, one quiet corner of the house which disappeared as much off in the other direction as the way they'd come. Here was where the bar was set up, and Lew jumped front ways across the bar's surface, dangling his head and shoulders down out of sight to scoop up a couple of beers. He rolled one along to Ray, then heaved himself up to sit on the edge of the bar, grinning at him again. ]
Halfway there, hot stuff.
[ Cracked the bottle open on the lip of the bar, ignored the tumbling bottle cap and just kept on grinning around the first mouthful. He rubbed his nose with the back of his thumb. Twitch, wiggle. Then a solid quizzical stare, determined and totally unyielding. ]
So. What do you do when you're not lifting phones?
[This really was punk heaven, and if it weren't for the slightly higher priority of face twin, Ray would be tempted to charge around and play with pretty much everything in sight. As it is, he's resisting pretty well, thrumming with an excited sort of energy as they both make their way through the rooms of instruments and records and far too much cool shit.
So this guy might be kind of a lech, what with the ass squeeze and the comments and the constant grinning, but maybe that's a thing that happens when you get everything you want. If enough men and women throw themselves into your bed, it's bound to be assumed everyone is going to do the same, right? And of course you're going to try it with your face twin if you've had everyone else. Ray's not entirely opposed to the idea himself, but he really needs to get a few things straightened out first. Or a lot of things, really.
As Ashby's half throwing himself over the bar top, Ray opts for leaning on it with an arm, catching the bottle as it slides his way but keeping his gaze locked on the other guy. Cap off, on the floor. Okay, so they don't have to be tidy then, he can go with that. It feels kind of naughty, like being a kid again, and God, what a sad life he leads if letting a bottle cap fall to the floor is the height of excitement for him.
He smiles right back, swigging a long, grateful mouthful of beer as Ashby speaks, and then dropping his gaze thoughtfully, fingers drumming out an unidentifiable pattern on the wood.
To tell or not to tell. This old him seems legit enough, likely an actual music bigwig if the house is anything to go by rather than some shady gangster. And if you can't tell the truth to a total stranger who's identical to you, then who can you tell it to?]
I uh, I'm a cop. Detective. I line 'em up and knock 'em down, bambam. Not usually stealin' phones but I guess this one wasn't such a bad choice-- Oh, here.
[Beer on the bar for a second as he stuffs a hand into his jean's pocket and withdraws Ashby's phone, holding it out like some sort of peace offering.]
I like the uh, the beard, by the way. [Drawing a circle in the air around his own chin, as if Ashby wasn't quite aware where his beard was placed. Ray's stubble just can't compete with a greying goatee.]
[ He stayed very still for just a second longer. I'm a cop. Detective. Couldn't help it really, he'd always been wired that way - music was wired that way, drugs were wired that way - and then it was like someone tripped the power switch behind his eyes because he was away again, stretching along the bar and taking his phone back, eyebrows quirked high. ]
Yeah? You like that? You should grow one. Takes for-fucking-ever but it's worth it, you know. Brings the whole--
[ He draws a circle too, this one bigger, around his whole head. ]
--together.
[ Peas in a pod. He jams the phone in his pocket then heaves himself back up, crossing his ankles and banging them hard against the wooden boards of the bar. ]
So a cop, huh? That must suck. You got a uh-a uh thing about taking bribes or rewards or whatever, right? That's what the money would count as I guess. That's definitely a problem. [ He scratched his chin. ] What about royalty checks? I mean I say you whistled me a tune, it goes on the next record I produce, Ray the Cop goes in the credits--wham bam thank you missus you get what's owed you. As well as your name on a sleeve, which let's face it, that'd be cool right?
I mean unless you're one of those bribe taking cops, in which case... [ He paused, grinned. ] Or you could have a guitar. I got plenty.
[ Facetwins were special. Facetwin trumped friend. And besides, Ashby always paid his debts. If he said he was going to do something he did it. It was just a complication that Ray was legitimate. Nobody else's procurement of a large amount of cash would be doubted like that. But a friend gives him a guitar and that's okay, right? He wasn't sure how that worked.
He waved his hands toward the room. ]
Shoo. I know your fingers are itching. But I mean you're staying here, right? It's haunted but whatever. I just mean--well I mean you'll have hours to check the place out. You are staying, right? A couple of days?
[There's that split second reaction that Ray's come to expect from most when he reveals his occupation, but the fact it's soon covered over with the same energetic boldness that Ray displays in himself and he thinks maybe this won't be so bad after all. Face twin doesn't mind if he's a cop. So maybe face twin is okay after all. If nothing else face twin has given him something very serious to consider for his future, and that's the idea of beards. Beards are important.
As is money, and his heart sinks just a little as Ashby brings it up. Fuck. That 20k sounded so good, but Ray knew right from the start that he'd never be able to accept it. Cops can't take bribes and rewards any more than they can accept gifts, and of course his ridiculous sense of guilt would gnaw away at him for it even if he did accept. It's like the gold bar thing all over again, except this time he doesn't have a Mountie to nag him about it.]
I can't take your money. Don't even know what I'd do with that sorta dough anyways.
[Twenty thousand might be petty cash to Ashby, but it's more like a years salary for Ray. Whatever, he won't let that put a downer on the fact he's got a mansion full of cool shit and he's being allowed almost free reign.
He pauses just a second to neck half the beer, thumps it back onto the bar and slips away with an eager smile like a kid at Christmas. He darts his way over to a well used blue Gibson Firebird that he'd clocked on his way in, slings the strap over his head, tests the tuning, and then slowly slinks his way back towards the bar, his attention flickering between the strings and Ashby as he tries out a few easy chords.]
I got tomorrow off. I guess maybe I could book more time, like they owe me a shitton of holiday, but uh. I'd have to run it by a buddy. [Easier said than done. Trying to persuade himself that Fraser can be left for more than a few days without the world imploding isn't easy.]
This place for real haunted? Like Scooby Doo up in here?
[ Even if Ray couldn't take the money, the least he could do was make sure that these were the best days of his life. He could blow that much on his pleasure in a heartbeat; fly him everywhere by private helicopter, get him the best lapdances in town, kick everyone off Venice beach and throw a private volleyball party, or fly in some childhood superhero of his to hang out with them for the day. Ashby could care less what he had to do or spend to keep a tight hold of Ray's imagination. Money was no object.
He wanted to keep him. Life was too fucking boring not to try, right? ]
A buddy, huh? That's cute. Buddy. I dunno what sort of friendship that would be, but it sure sounds nice. Heh, buddies. Like fuckbuddies.
[ He was a little distracted but pretending not to be, all but nibbling on the glass rim of his beer bottle as he watched Ray, tonguing it absently. ]
Yeah. [ Haunted, right. That was the thing about conversations. You had to stop getting distracted by things going on and pay proper attention to the subject matter. Ray had checked the tuning; he had an ear, and he knew what he was doing. Joe Blow strangers usually just strummed and played with the guitars absently, like unevolved cavemen content to just make a noise.
So he was distracted. So shoot him. ]
There's like these uh--glowing balls of light things. Not that I've seen one. Other people, you know, they get funny about all the space, the history. It gets into their heads. Personally I think they were high.
[ He took another sip, looking thoughtful, then stopped performing oral on the bottle and forced himself to set it down on the bar. It was almost done with anyway. Drinking slowly was for people who couldn't keep their alcohol down. Besides, it was funny. Ray and that guitar, like he'd been drawn to it by the irony of the universe... ]
You like that one, huh? You keep it. It's uh - uhm - Billy Talent, you know. [ He grinned. ] People used to say we were the spitting image of each other too, but I never met the guy so I don't know.
Come on. [ He said, grabbing two more beers and hopping down, then setting off back down the hall for the stairs. ] Bring it, let's go up on the balcony.
[So they're both a bit distracted, Lew with his leering and Ray with his attempts at trying to remember how music even works. It's been too long since he last attempted any form of guitar playing and it wasn't exactly his forte to start with. The concentration has a little crease between his eyebrows starting to form and he barely even catches on to the buddies thing until it's too late.]
N-- [Not fuckbuddies. But who the fuck cares? It's entertaining that anyone even thinks that he and Fraser are like that, but then this guy has never met Mr. Uptight.
His attention lifts back to Ashby just in time to see the oral coming to a halt- damn, the guy even suffers from the same fixations as him. And this is why Ray knew he shouldn't have left his gum in his bag. And it's always why Ray really, really needs to find out if they're related or not because Jesus that mouth is amazing, and maybe that's narcissistic but it's not like he ever thought he'd get to see stuff like this without staring in a mirror every second of his life.]
Billy Talent? Yeah, I heard of him. Wow, that uh, that's some guitar. You sure you don't need this...? Thanks, man. [It would make a pretty bad ass addition to his apartment, buuut he probably won't find much time to ever actually attempt playing it. Either way, he keeps hold of it as Lew moves, gripping loosely around the neck and pushing it slightly aside to get away from his legs.]
You got any buddies or chicks livin' here? I guess it'd get pretty lonely if it's just you.
[Not that Ray's judging if there is any lonely living. He lonely lives every day of his life, and his life doesn't even involve mansions and amazing balconies.]
[ And that was it, the briefest tiniest flash of vulnerability before the stig of the dump mentality took control all over again. Master of his own domain, king of the hill, no time to mope because there was just too much living to do.
In the vein, then, of not leaving it on a shitty pathetic note, he elected to extoll the virtues of his magnificent batchelorific existence. There wasn't a man alive who secretly didn't want to be him, and Ray - he could tell, had known since the text conversation - was no exception. ]
I mean, plenty people stay here. Fuck, I've had all sorts. Rock stars, writers, actors, stage magicians. House has a longstanding tradition of being a home from home for the rich and famous. Houdini, Madonna, Johnny fucking Depp. But who cares about those posers? You are by far my mostest favoritest housegist ever, Little Me.
[ One long winding set of stairs behind them, and at the top he led Ray through the master bedroom with its big gothic leather headboards, led him out toward the private balcony. ]
Used to have a waterbed. Fucking awesome, too, except maybe a week after I got it I had these two girls--not the best ass, but pretty good, stiletto heels. She wants to put her foot on my chest, and I am all for that. All for that. Whoosh, straight through. Bad, awful idea, but also really fucking funny.
[ He swung open the balcony doors, exposing them both to the dusky desert warmth, the sound of crickets chirping in the canyon below. It was a nice night; that helped him out a lot. Romantic. Haha. Was he romancing Ray, though? Sort of. Okay definitely. He was definitely going for it. It wasn't like that was odd for him, deciding so quickly he wanted to fuck someone; usually it took seconds, and while this time there had been a delay of a few minutes, he put that down to shock at having his younger self literally delivered onto his doorstep.
Of course he wanted to fuck him. Such insight his mind had swiftly provided. Which meant that this was without doubt a seduction. He just hadn't worked out all the rules yet. If he was going to be able to get it on without the interference of lovely naked ladies picked up from the Rainbow Room, then he would prefer to do that, prefer to keep Ray all to himself. He was all for sharing, he was the king of sharing, but when it came down to this situation, this commodity, these precious few hours to make his mark.
He was staring at Ray again, licking his lips, licking them again. Wants dinner or is dinner? Oh, that gave him an idea. ]
Hey, you like sushi? I got a place that delivers. [ And just like that he was calling out, raising his phone to his ear. It took maybe twenty seconds to order 'Yes, the usual,' and then he was beaming, leaning back in toward Ray. ] You're gonna love these guys. So come on, tell me a bit about you. Where'd you uh--you live your whole life in Chicago?
[Lonely at the top. That sounded about right. Not that Ray had ever been at the top but it was lonely enough at the bottom without everyone trying to get in with you just for the money. Money was great, but Ray was satisfied enough without it. He'd come because this guy had really wanted that phone back, and because the sound of a jet ride down to LA had seemed too good to turn down. He wasn't expecting anything, didn't need anything, was only here for the curiosity of all this face twin oddness. Would be kind of nice to have a house full of celebrities though. Kind of cool.
He trailed after Ashby, eyes darting at every little detail to try and catch it all. Times like this make him wish he had a better memory, but he'd try to remember as much of it as he could. This is the sort of tale you tell your grandkids about.
The bedroom is nice. Big. Probably needs to be for all the sex and drugs and rock and roll that likely goes on in this place. Stiletto heels and waterbeds, indeed, Ray's not judging, he's not even on duty. Besides, he's a cop, not a party pooper, the two don't have to be mutually exclusive.
What really makes the room though is that balcony, the view is great and the weather is perfect. Better than anything Chicago usually gets, that's for sure. Ray slips the guitar back over his shoulder and leaves it at the doorway, finding himself a good leaning spot at the surrounding balustrade and reaching for a beer from the staring Ashby. The guy can lick his lips all he wants, Ray doesn't care.]
Yeah, it-- [Never mind, looks like the decision is made for him anyway. Ashby's the expert here, Ray can't know where to get the best of everything, especially not to the standard that this rich guy is probably used to living. Sushi it is. He doesn't mind something a little different from pizzas and burgers.]
Me? Nothin' to tell. I, yeah, Chicago born and bred, and uh. I dunno. All the normal stuff. Family, grew up, loved, lost, got a job, got an apartment. Nothin' like this. I mean, shit, I could fit my whole place into like one room here. Could probably fit my life in alongside it. Wow, you must have some stories though.
Stories--yeah, I got stories. Stories and stories; so many I can't remember all of them. That's the dream, right?
[ Maybe it was, but Ashby could sound more cheerful about it. He didn't make it sound like a dream. But he was much more interested in Ray's story: grew up, loved, lost. That was familiar. And it amused him. There it was: 'Nothing to tell'. Wasn't that what he said too? Nothing to tell. Nothing personal anyway. All front, all work, nothing real. ]
I dunno--Chicago PD? You're rocking out, I mean, that's pretty cool too. You're like an actual real life hero or something.
[ He folded his hands on the balcony and leant across it, throwing a quick grin back Ray's way. Get serious and then disarm. Except...well, Ray was his facetwin, right? He should be honest about it right?
Yeah not likely. How could he be at all impressive and wind him in if he was also some delicate human flower? Vulnerable. Not bloody likely. So he'd play it up, gloss over it. ]
Let's see. Dropped out of college to pursue a "career" in music. Rolled into town in my beat up old Mustang with a lady in tow. Lost the lady. Didn't become a rock god or whatever but I got the dream anyway. See the trick is that the real money's in producing. That and it's less difficult to balls up.
[ He stepped away from his part of the balcony, stepping over toward Ray, past him, and then swung his arm with a little more than simple familiarity across his double's hips. ]
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: I can't possibly fuck him if it turns out he's my brother or something, but that uh - that uh - we know about that shit. Well I do. Had a kid a few years back claiming to be my nephew, I got the whole thing done. Genealogy whatever. So don't you worry your little head about it, huh, sexy?
[ He ruffled Ray's hair with the hand not holding him around the waist, tipped against him. ]
Stop me if I'm being too forward. I'm just saying what we're both thinking.
[A real life hero? That's cute. Ray didn't hear that very often, considering the general consensus on cops. Even his dad didn't like what he did, even if they were kind of over that hurdle now. Not that Ray's certain Ashby isn't mocking him, but hey, he'll take whatever approval he can get right now. The guy gave him a guitar, he can't be all that bad.
The tale of dropping out of college to pursue a career is similar enough to Ray's own life, but the rock god and producing less so. Maybe that's the way he should have gone judging by the amount of money in it, but he's happy where he is now. He's got a Canadian friend, a wolf pal and a turtle. What more could you want in life? The simple things keep him happy.
When Ashby moves, Ray stays where he is, tensing up just slightly as that arm loops around him like he's expecting something more than an embrace. Proof to himself that he's been working for too long when his first reaction to any contact is to fight back. But this is fine, this is okay. This isn't some scumbag trying to attack him, this is a guy who looks exactly like him trying to make a move. And who can really blame him?]
You some kinda mind reader now?
[He tries to catch the other out of the corner of his eye, still intent to lean on the balcony because seriously, this really could be a relation and yeah, maybe some stuff has crossed his mind but he's not dwelling on the idea until genes are established.]
C'mon, you expect me to believe that? You got tested so everything is fine an' dandy? They just give you whatever results you want, man, so long as you got the money. Even if that was legit, you could still have some Kowalski in you.
[Even if having a face twin from genes alone seems pretty unlikely seeing as they don't even seem to share the same mother.]
[ Ashby is very used to tense. Occasionally people will tense the hell up when he touches them, but that's a combination of culture shock and suspicions about his motives--usually warranted.
His motives are undeniably unkosher. But then Ray didn't come here for the money, knew he couldn't walk away with it really. He'd come for the experience, maybe, but he'd come for Ashby too; had been drawn to him, moth to the flame. Or maybe Ray was the flame, and Lew was the aged moth with the ragged gothy wings.
He kept his hand right where it was, since Ray wasn't shaking him off. He was already anticipating their meal, knowing he wasn't going to proceed beyond this piss poor passmaking until there was food on the...table. But that didn't mean he coudn't try. He was a pro at this. ]
Yeah? I could still have a little Kowalski in me huh? I like that--that an uh...that a promise?
[ His eyes were dancing, full of joy and life. Excitement. Hunger. Lust. He couldn't help himself. Innuendo was easy. Ray had left him that opening, and he'd be damned if he was going to miss it. He plucked his beer back off the balcony and took another healthy gulp, if only to punctuate his efforts, stayed close. Boundaries? What boundaries? ]
They say there's like...seven people who're totally identical to you in the world. Now I don't know if that's true, but who the fuck cares? What're you gonna do, knock me up with some sorta crossbred identical assbabies?
[ Another dazzling sidewards grin. What the hell ever. He gave a big shrug, as though to a question he was asking himself rather than Ray, and then he leant across, unleashed his tongue and ran it up the edge of Ray's face, hot and wet and releasing his arm very slightly so Ray could spring away if he wanted to. He wasn't going to hold him prisoner.
But this was it: full throttle, giving it 110%, and who could blame him? He was Lew Ashby.
Fuck, but he wasn't sorry. He'd thought about doing that since Ray had stepped out of the car. ]
Dinner. Dinner, I get it. Then I'll show you what else I can do with my mouth, and you can decide how much you really care about all that other stuff. Deal?
[So Ray can admit he set himself up for poor innuendo with a line like that, but he can't blame the guy for not letting it slide. Sometimes you've just got to take the sexual puns when you can get them.
This was tough. This was a case of weighing up what he wanted, what he should be doing and whatever the fuck his older twin was trying to do. Ray can admit he came here out of curiosity, that much is obvious, but he's not sure what he was hoping for or what he was expecting. Was he imagining he'd have this guy trying to get into his pants? Maybe. It's not entirely unusual to consider that sort of thing if you were to meet your double. It's not really anything more than masturbation, just a lot more pleasurable and entertaining.
Trouble was, Ray wasn't used to this. All this being embraced and touched and treated well. People don't show interest in him like this usually, especially not so outwardly. It's kind of nice, to be chased after by someone desirable.
Was it narcissistic to think Ashby was desirable? Probably. But he was pretty damn attractive, better looking than Ray's own youthful looks, he thinks. That face just looks better with a bit of age to it. But would the age and this persona of rich guy getting everything he wants mean that he knows what he's doing in the sack? If it does, Ray's screwed. He's barely been with anyone since Stella and he'd be the first to admit he might be a little rusty. Or a lot rusty.
Maybe just... maybe keep this stuff to a minimum so he doesn't embarrass himself and--
That was a lick. Not exactly keeping 'this stuff' to a minimum. Ray's head jerks away out of pure instinct but his body doesn't move. Not exactly intent to get away from it, but he's furrowing his brows into a distant frown, more for show than any actual annoyance.]
Dinner. Right. Keep this up and I'll show you what I can do with this bottle.
[Idle threats, emphasised as he lifts the mostly full beer bottle in Lew's direction. Physical violence or sexual orientated, who knows? It's probably left open ended on purpose.
He hasn't socked this guy in the fact yet. That's somewhat of a surprise to himself. Maybe instinct are telling him something, maybe not. Might just be that he likes this mansion too much to be upsetting the owner just yet, plus he'd really like to get back to Chicago without spending a fortune on air fares.]
[ Ashby clicked his tongue, still smirking, almost as though he were relishing the taste of Ray. Manly. No ancient flavor of grown out beard here, but no tangy aftershave unpleasantness either. Didn't taste like a woman and didn't smell like one either, and that was...nice. Refreshing.
And also not the point.
Sure, he was interested because Ray was hot, but he was more interested because Ray was him, and had been from the very start. So he puts his tongue against his bottom teeth and curls it, grins with just his top line of pearly whites, and clocks his thumb against the side of his nose. That's all the answer he really needs to give. ]
That [ He declared. ] Is really fucking hot.
[ He dropped his arm away, though he remained just as close as he'd been allowed to get in, his eyes going between Ray's mouth to his own drink and then out to the canyon again. A white van was climbing the driveway, and as it reached the bottom of the steps three people climbed out, all wearing chefs whites, impossible to pick out who was what from above. Lew watched them hawkishly for a moment, then turned his attention back to Ray's mouth, which was infinitely more distracting and far more exciting to look at. ]
You know I always wondered what it'd be like to sleep with a cop? [ His eyes went back to the distance as he raised the topic. ] I mean like--I've slept with cops, lady cops, but not detectives. Way too rich for me. No I uh...mean that's sort of kinky, right? "Tell me where you hid the blow, cocksucker." That could be hot. Not that I'm saying--I mean. I'd never. With you. Diminish and belittle you like that. You're special, I feel like I've known you my whole life.
[ And maybe in some ways it was true, but there was nothing remotely resembling truth to it either; one text conversation and a half hour hanging out with each other did not soulmates make.
He reached up, though, hand at the side of Ray's neck like he couldn't help himself from touching, rubbing little circles into the hair behind his ear. ]
They got a dinner bell they ring when it's all ready. Man, you are going to love this. They don't have anything like this in Chicago, I mean, this is LA, if you want them to make you a twelve foot wedding cake shaped like a cock they'll do it.
[Ashby's determined, Ray will give him that. Or perhaps persistent is more accurate. Either way, even with that arm moving, the two of them stay close, Lew grinning with intent all the way to the fucking bank. Incorrigible might be a better description, and Ray's still not sure whether to meet that with approval or a punch to the face. He kind of wants to do both.
He keeps Lew in his peripherals, suspicious of more attempts, but his attention locks onto the van, watching the three figures emerge from the vehicle. Actual chef whites. What happened to one delivery boy in a banged up motor? They sure do turn it up a notch for the rich and famous.
They don't keep his attention for long, though, not when he's got his own face to look at, absently chewing at his bottom lip as he looks at his face twin looking at him. There's going to be a whole lot more staring for the next day or two, he imagines. It's a hard sight to get over, although while Ashby might be fixated with the lips, Ray's more intent to make direct eye contact.]
If you thought beddin' a cop was all handcuffs and roleplay then... I dunno, maybe you're not so wrong. But I'm all outta handcuffs and I've never been so good at the roleplay stuff. I'm a simple pleasures kind guy. Just give me some t&a and I'll be happy.
[Except Ashby's kind of lacking in the t part of that, and Ray's still not quite sure how he feels about that.
With the wet trail so kindly left on his face cooling in the evening air, Stan lifts an arm to rub at it with the back of his hand. And then he's turning, using that hand to lean back on the balcony railing while inadvertently twisting away from Ashby's hand in the turn, leaning and casual, beer in hand.]
You ever fight? Fisticuffs or guns or anythin'? Like real fight for your life, balls deep in shit kinda fightin'? That's where it's at. You live like that and suddenly you're just happy to be alive no matter how simple yer life sex life is. I guess cops are easily pleased so long as you ain't shootin' or stabbin' us.
[ He isn't too disappointed when Ray escapes from his touch, it isn't exactly like he was trying too hard, and all that happens is his hand slides away, back to the balcony railing where he picks up his beer again. He'll get to touch plenty soon enough, he knows that because he knows when he's in-like-sin, and Ray is playing 'catch me if you can' rather than 'hard to get.' All he'd have to do was tell Ashby he didn't swing that way and they could order up some ladies and have a nice wholesome LA orgy instead, no problem.
But Ray is interested, there's no doubt about it. Lew had seen him look right at his mouth when he'd been tonguing his beer bottle before, and they kept catching and maintaining eye contact. Looking right back into his own eyes was like staring into a mirror, except this mirror wasn't doing exactly what Lew was doing; it was unpredictable, could reach out and grope him or punch him or kiss him and he wouldn't know until it happened. Fucking thrilling. ]
Oh yeah? And you like that? You wanna live like that? Simple? I mean it's not like I don't respect that whole survival thing - shit, I've been there, I can scrap with the best of them - but isn't that a bit...I mean. Boring? Do a bit of thrusting, roll over and go to sleep?
[ He scratched his chin with his free hand, then turned and leant back on the railing himself, puzzled and scowling. ]
You really like that shit? I mean I am really fucking sad for you, Little Me. All you gotta do is flash that badge and that pretty grin of yours and you could take home any piece of ass you like, you know that? "Chicago PD, I'm sorry ma'am but there's been an emergency, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to eat you out."
[ Another sidewards flash of a grin, this one a little subdued, and then something more thoughtful. ]
Hey, but we could do that... I mean the hitting thing. After dinner, though, cause I'm starving, but if you wanna wrestle we can wrestle. [ He popped away from the wall, and two steps back toward the open door the gong went. He smirked back over his shoulder at Ray. ] Winner gets the other guy's ass. C'mon.
[ Dinner was laid out downstairs. Or well. It was literally laid out. A table had been unpacked, and across it lay a very naked, sun bronzed woman with tumbling black hair. Dinner was on her; long trails of rice interspersed with morsels of sushi, and not a single fish or shellfish derivative to be seen. State of the art vegetable sushi, thinly sliced threads of meat sashimi of venison, beef and duck, veiled nipples and made artful swirls across her belly. There were tiny little edible flowers and flashes of dark green leaves laid out under some of the display, but they were mostly decoration rather than intended to hide anything. ]
Best thing about the place isn't even the presentation. [ Stepping back so he was hovering over Ray's shoulder, Lew murmured over it into his ear. ] See, any other sushi place in the city would kill me, but this guy's son has allergies too, so uh--so we're good. I'm good.
[ He licked his lips. ] It's called uh--nyotaimori. [ And hey, Ray had wanted T&A. There was no denying that he was getting it. ] No chopsticks, though, that's my special rule. Go on, you don't gotta wait on ceremony.
[Maybe his contentment for simplicity was an issue. It's not that he necessarily liked it simple, he was just okay with it being a thing. Until Fraser had come along, Ray had just been going through the motions of working and going home to an empty house, occasionally interspersed with the odd burst of excitement from a shoot out or an interesting case. It's only recently that he's realised he likes the thrills, he likes trying the unknown, he likes adventures and unusual occurrences, even if he does complain his way through them. If he'd only just found that out about himself in every day life, then what the fuck was he going to find out about sex in the future?
He and Stella had tried some things, sure. Some things. But it'd never really strayed too far from the norm, not enough for Ray to feel like he's got any sort of bragging rights that relate to 'I've seen some shit'. Maybe that's part of the reason for the divorce, another layer to their arguments and frustrations and everything else. Since her he'd only had a couple of embarrassing attempts with other women and first nights aren't exactly the time to really bring up the 'so I was thinking of trying this out...'. Well, not unless you're some sort of rock god with masses of money and the ability to risk shit like that.
So ok, maybe simple isn't so great, but simple is comfortable and familiar and if Ray can't even get lucky on simple then what's the point in trying the next step up? Walk before you can run, right? Unless that's where he's been going wrong. Might be that people just don't want simple guys any more. What if, in the twenty-odd years he'd been married to Stella, the world had evolved and he hadn't moved along with the times? Shit.]
Guess that's why I'm divorced and single.
[He mutters with a hint of amused self-deprecation to go along with it. This trip might be good for more than just seeing his clone after all, especially if he can keep up these self-revelations. Even if they do result in him crawling back to Stella and begging that he can change. Not going to help, Kowalski. And who was he kidding, he could never change, he could just be a little more self-aware and open to new things.
Whatever, this isn't some enlightenment trip to India, this is just him in a huge mansion in LA with a guy who likes identical to himself in virtually every way, give or take a decade. If he could be as honest with himself as this guy seems to be, then maybe shit would work out better.
He's hungry. That's probably why his mind is spouting tired and pointless exposition that's of no use to him. So when Ashby mentions dinner, Ray's all for following, deciding to settle on the wrestling idea with a vague;] Maybe.
[Once they get downstairs, Ray stops dead, staring at the spread before him with an uncertain sort of disbelief, all blank faced and slow blinking. That's not something you see every day. At least not in Chicago. That's not even something he's ever heard of before, let alone seen. Food on a naked chick? Seems an odd concept. But hadn't Ray just been thinking about how much he's up for trying new stuff since the Mountie showed up in his life. This was definitely new stuff to try.]
Uh. Is she uh. Is she okay with this? Like uh, is this legit? [Head turned just slightly to other at his shoulder, voice lowered like he's afraid he might be overheard by the other body in the room. God, he hopes this isn't some sort of weird prostitution thing. How clueless he was to the International ways of the world.
But damn, she was beautiful, even if Ray was still uncertain as to whether he should be staring or not, like he's suddenly shy by the sight of naked bodies.]
[ It made a lot of sense, really. That Ray was a divorcee, that he was single, that he was content to be simple and didn't think much of excitement, even in the bedroom. Or maybe he did. Maybe he wanted more from his life and he was just starting to work that out. Maybe he'd work it out and go back to Chicago and have way more fun with his life, but it all started now.
Oh that was cool. Ray fell dead still, staring, and that was exactly the kind of reaction he'd been hoping to get out of him. Little bit of shellshock when on holiday was good for the soul. This was like the Orient to Ray; exotic and so far outside his usual lifestyle that they may as well be on another planet.
And that was what Ashby liked best. Blow them away. Then he could do anything he wanted and masquerade it as perfectly normal.
He smirked. Ray wasn't looking at him any more, but then Ashby didn't blame him. She was really quite pretty, and from what he could tell Ray was dry--had just come out of a marriage where the fun had gone out of it, probably hadn't had a whole lot of glory since. And there she was, everything that LA could get you laid out and decorated and edible. Poor bastard, he'd been dropped in at the deep end.
So Ashby stepped closer, pressing his chest against Ray's back, leaning in so that his mouth brushed the shell of his ear. ]
It's totally legit, completely above board. It takes a lot of skill to stay put like that; she's a professional.
[ He bit Ray's earlobe firmly, then nudged him forward step by step, putting all of his force into his chest to urge him forward. ]
Now if you wanted to sleep with her that would be extra, and if I'm honest with you I'm not really feeling the charitable spirit tonight. The hell am I paying someone else to get what I'm after.
[ He pinched Ray's butt, then grabbed his hand and led the way, led him the rest of the way across the room. He pointed at the girl. ]
Go on. She's pretty, right? You like her. I definitely like her. It's pretty hot, and we're all having a lot of nice, safe, sexy fun. That's all this is.
Here, here. You kneel right down. [ He was close again; he was crooked in against the corner of Ray's throat, smirking still, a little flushed, definitely aroused. It was audible in his voice. ]
[This was exotic. This was so far away from the norm of pizza boxes and greasy take away boxes that Ray's still not quite sure how to process it all. Who the fuck thought eating off a naked woman was a thing that should be done? It was weird. Weird but beautiful and damn she had some good curves on her. Could you chat up women pretending to be plates or tables or whatever? Was that a thing? Or were you meant to pretend they're not there? Ray's not really sure about it all. Not sure if he approves entirely of the principle, or of whether this was meant to be some weird porno thing, stripper thing or artsy thing.
He really did have a lot more to learn about life. Briefly he does wonder if Fraser would have ever heard of this, which might be a mildly inappropriate thing to be considering as Ashby's pressing in closer but it's a valid train of though that he doesn't entirely discount.]
Yeah, no. No payin' for any kinda sleepin' with. C'mon, let the girl do her job without all the sleaze stuff.
[Because apparently Ray is suddenly a strong advocate of women's rights or something. Or he just doesn't want any slight suggestion of paying for sex anywhere near him. Cops and prostitution shouldn't mix.
He still has to deal with Ashby though, the guy trying to woo him with all of this and the far too frequent touching. Ray didn't mind a bit of friendly contact, he's all for that, especially by his own hands, but this was pushing it. Especially with the bite that has him hissing out a quick exhale and cocking his head away the second he's given the chance, and that pinch that has him flashing a warning glance towards the other but unable to do much else before he's grabbed and led.
Once they're at the table, Ray's using the closeness of Lew curling in against him to his advantage, his elbow suddenly jerking towards the edge of Ashby's ribs, more as a caution than any real attempt to cause serious pain. Just a little display of 'keep your distance and let me eat'.]
Other side of the table, pal. I can sit myself down just fine.
[And he's going to wait for that dick to move before he kneels himself down, because there's no way he wants to be on his knees beside this guy. Not yet anyway. Ahem.]
[ At the end of the day, this was who he was. Lew Ashby, the man who had taken 'No' as an answer only once in his life, and given up his longing to be with the one woman who'd ever really made him happy. Lew Ashby who had every reason and excuse to take the liberties he wanted when he was presented with them, because he lived in an industry where life was too short, where living fast and dying young was the name of the game and chances came round once and once only. You never got a second chance to get a track right. Oh, you could tweak it, but there could only be one definitive version.
Lew Ashby was the definitive version of Lew Ashby. He lived life like he only had one shot at it, and his answer to everything was yes.
Well, to everything that wouldn't leave him penniless on the streets, which when people wanted your money or your babies was a constant risk.
Ray finally gave him a little bit of a fight back, and Lew knew he'd pushed him far enough that he was starting to find his legs again, remember who he was. He knew he'd won him over on the idea of sex already, though, but this way he'd be more confident maybe, more willing to push as be pushed. Ashby knew he had it in him. He hoped he did, anyway, it'd be hot. ]
Oh yeah?
[ And he knew it was about the kneeling, because he'd said that more or less setting him up for it, so he just grinned another dazzling grin and slipped out of there, giving Ray back his space and kneeling down on the tatami that had been rolled out on the other side of the table. It was the whole experience: that was sort of the point.
He folded his hands in front of himself and bowed reverently to his partner, and then he spared a glance for his table. ]
You alright there, sweetness? Yes. Hell yes.
[ And now he could watch Ray, watch that face with his own captivated glacier blue eyes, ravishing him hungrily without ever so much as touching him again. No, instead he leaned in, unfurling his tongue along the curve of her hip, then wrapping his mouth around one of the pieces of sushi, leading by example. He didn't take his eyes off Ray as he did it, nor as he chewed, and he didn't raise his head much more than a few inches either.
Oh, this was sexual alright, but it had nothing to do with the naked lady. To Lew this was absolutely nothing less than full on foreplay. ]
Tell me the most...the most dangerous thing you've ever done. The most danger you've ever been put in.
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thelockbox2014-10-02 01:02 am
no subject
But whatever, he could say that he'd give some guy he'd never met twenty big ones to fly to LA and BAM, off he'd go and jump on a jet (almost) no questions asked. That was the big time, baby. That was what it was all about, the American fucking Dream. They didn't tell you how falling for it hook, line and sinker meant getting sucked, swallowed and shit out at the other end.
He loved it. He loathed it. He put on all the Lew Ashby against the world he could stand and then when it got too hard he got wasted, and things got plenty easy again. Everything went away until it didn't, and then there was more free stuff and another week, month, year would blow itself away--literally.
The normal people, though, they were the real fucking deal. They reminded him how it used to be, and not altogether in a horrible way. The way he could inspire awe - that was what he'd felt too once upon a time - he still had that. Man, he still loved the music, too; it was one of the few things in life he still had real passion for. He loved to blow their minds though. Somehow it let him see it through the eyes of something more innocent, something he'd never have again, and he loved and hated that, the ultimate contradiction. He was an outsider to the magic now he was finally able to make it. How the fuck did that work? But he did get the kick. He liked the kick.
But where that kid was - the one with the broken Mustang - he had no idea. Lost him somewhere. Intersection after intersection back in the shitend of the abyss.
He had the magic, though, and the coke, and the pussy, so who the fuck cared?
His driver sounded cagey when he called her. Evasive. That was weird. She was usually cold as ice, sharp as a knife, a whole bunch of other descriptions that meant that she was a huge badass. He hadn't been sure of her to start with, but he respected her, and she liked him, and that was a pretty kookie kind of relationship in Ashbyland. Still, the plane had come in, the guy was coming with his phone and apparently he was 'reasonably good looking, if you liked that sort of thing'. Seriously fucking cagey. What the hell did that even mean?
He rubbed his cheeks with both hands, bracing himself, then stepping out into the dusk as the car pulled up. Moment of truth. Well--the point was getting his phone back, right? Except it had stopped being that a long time ago. This was about breaking the monotony, and he'd needed a good excuse to interact with a Normal for a long time now. Someone who didn't come to him wanting something. Sure, it was a business transaction, but he'd paid more for a single night of company before. Twenty thou was practically a bargain.
If he threw a party after all twenty thou would be a drop in the ocean.
His driver slid out of her seat, didn't look at him (weird), stepped around and opened the backwards facing door. Lew's nerves strained to their limit. Come on, come on. So much fucking anticipation just to get a look at a dude, but there it was, and here they went. He bounced on his heels irritably. ]
no subject
That text conversation on a phone that wasn't even his had been bizarre. None of it seemed real, especially not the contents of the picture folder. Most of those tits were fake, for sure, but the selfies were... well he hadn't looked since, didn't dare to, but it just didn't make any sense. There wasn't even any point in trying to explain it to himself when he had no answers, and maybe this guy knew and this was all a set up. Or just maybe he'd be as clueless as Ray.
Either way it was impossible to turn down the offer of a free holiday, all expenses paid. Set up or not, Ray had to at least try this out just to see. Maybe he wouldn't be able to accept the twenty grand on principle of his job and all, but taking a last minute few days off to fly out to LA was just too good to turn down. He really, really hoped this was for real, but he couldn't get his hopes up until he knew for sure.
He'd managed to ditch work early, say his brief goodbyes to Fraser and get home to pack an overnight bag in record quick time. He got a taxi to the airport, considered how amazing that 20k would be in helping pay for stupidly high cab fares, and then found where he'd been told to go.
Having low expectations usually works out pretty well for Ray. It means he's rarely disappointed. But it also means that his mind is blown when he's met with something so far above expectations that he literally can't even imagine it in reality. He got a jet. A fucking jet to take him with no squeezing into economy seats and being stuck next to arm rest hoggers and screaming babies and fat guys that ooze into his half of the chair. There's no way he can sleep. This is a once in a lifetime deal and he still can't believe it even after take off. Maybe he should have dressed up better. Maybe the overnight bag, the worn jeans, the biker boots and the faded Chicago Bulls t-shirt weren't the best of choices, but fuck it, they were him and if he couldn't feel comfortable in those then he wasn't going to be comfortable.
There's even the driver and the stupidly sized car to pick him up. Sure, she's a little quiet upon introduction and looks more suspicious than someone in a spy movie, but Ray mumbles out some awkward excuse of cousins or some shit- he can't even remember- and then he's being whisked away through the LA streets, the setting sun all but adding to the fairytale style evening. Of course there's going to be a mansion. Of fucking course there would be. He's not sure why he expected anything less after what he's seen so far, but he's still staring in awe at the view all the way up the drive, only eventually distracted by the figure emerging from the doorway.
Jesus, that's weird. The movements, the posture, the face, the hair. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Maybe... shit, the car door is opening whether he likes it or not, and while it's tempting to slink further inside to avoid the gaze, he realises there's really no way out of this.
With one deep inhale for courage, he slides out of the back seat and to his feet, lingering at the car like he's half expecting to have to leave all too quickly.]
Uh. Hey. Ashby, right?
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The universe doesn't explode, so he supposes that's something. It feels good though. Exciting. Terrifying. He likes that feeling, it's like getting high again for the first time.
His eyes snap toward his driver. "If you like that kind of thing? That's cute." She shrugged, clearly fighting back a smirk, and got back into the car, and Lew steered Ray up toward the house, still reeling but using the physical movement both to give himself some time to process and to stop himself from staring again.
Holy fucking shit. Where did you even start to process crap like this? He didn't know what the fuck to do with himself, and of course Ray seemed as unnerved by the whole thing too. He looked what? Ten years younger? Not young enough to be the son of some accidental lay he'd had as a teenager. Someone might have guessed more, but Lew remembered this stage, had looked it in the mirror for years, his own fucking baby face like he was Sid Vicious, perpetually trying to look older and harder than he felt. This wasn't just a close thing, this was his face. That was his ear, his flinty blue eyes, his fluffy muff of a head of hair growing in all the same directions, widow's peak and all. How did that happen? And how in the universe, of all the people he could get flown out to LA, had it been this guy who got his phone?
Ray had had the day to get used to the idea - no wonder he'd gone so weird after he'd looked through his gallery - but Ashby was relying on his sheer nerve to hold his shit together. His intent to treat him like he was just some schmo he'd picked up off the street out of charity dissolved though. This wasn't usual, and it didn't call for the usual Ashby impression, song and dance and strippers. Suddenly all he wanted to do was park this guy in front of a pair of speakers, share a bottle or a few and listen to music while Ray told him his life story. And that would be a dumb waste of time. A waste of Ray's time anyway.
He raised his free hand, putting his thumb against the corner of his mouth and rubbing it against his teeth on that side, thinking hard. Okay, okay first thing's first, break this creepy ass silence: ]
So uh. You uh. You have a good - uh - flight?
[ Pair of pro conversers here, oh yes. Of course Ray had his voice too. The universe was fucking fucked, spewing out two of them? Like one work of scrawny, squirrely, blue eyed perfection wasn't enough? ]
You wanna see the house?
[ There, that was neutral. Normal. Nothing about this was normal. But what did you say to your clone double? Hey, strip naked I wanna see if we're really identical?
He wasn't above that. ]
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He sees the brief flicker of 'wtf' coursing through this Ashby guy, of him trying to process the information just as Ray had when he'd first seen that photo. Photos are easier to fake, this? This was pretty much all real.
But then he's approaching, bounding down the stairs and slipping in close as the door gets pushed shut behind him and suddenly Ray's left being tugged in against the other and led away. Up close it was even stranger, but it's apparently rude to stare (so his mom always told him) so other than a quick gawp to try and process what he's seeing, his attention flicks in front of him.
He's not sure what he wants to do with his older clone type guy, but right now he's just got why? why? why? why? running through his head and he's not sure if that will ever be answered. Mystery of the universe.
That smile was his smile, all curled lips and bared teeth, and he's pretty sure it's contagious because he finds himself mirroring (very literally mirroring) the look, if perhaps just a little more awkwardly. This was Ashby's domain, not Ray's. Ray was out of his element in every way.]
Yeah. Yeah, it was uh, good.
[Grand masters of literacy, and Ray's only adding to that with another:] Yeah. [Clipped on to the second question.
Go figure they sound identical. Maybe Ashby's a little deeper, but maybe that's just that you never quite sound the same to your own ears. Could be that Ray's Chicago accent (if it can even be called that) throws the tone up, who knows? Whatever, he'd have to hear more before he knew for sure. Right now it's just a weird detail piled on top of masses of other weird details.]
You, you seriously own this?
[Pretty much blows Ray's tiny one bedroom apartment out of the atmosphere.]
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He dropped his hand away from his teeth and nudged Ray ahead of him up the narrow staircase. So many fucking steps, but it made the best of good first impressions with the house towering above the way it did, and Ashby thrived on his showmanship. He all but chased Ray up the stairs. ]
Yeah I own it. Hey, you wanna be my long lost brother? I'll be fucked if I'm going to give this place to the Federal Government. Up up up. Climb that mountain, gotta keep on climbing, top of the fucking world.
[ He sprang onto the porch beside him and gestured widely to dusk over the canyon, the house, to his general domain. ]
Tada!
[ Up here in the bright outside lights - all the better for partygoers to not fall to their deaths with - he was able to get a much better look at Ray, and he made no bones about doing it either. He'd been right about the eyes, the teeth, the jawline, and the harder he looked for something to be different, the clearer it became that there was nothing, except for maybe the accent and the age. He raised his chin a little defiantly. Weird, but not not nice. They stood there, identical height, identical hair, identical stubble - Lew had more scratchy gray beard, but if he shaved it he looked younger, and he hated that - both of them wearing ragged t-shirts and worn jeans, both of them dirty blond and edge of a knife dangerous. ]
Fucking A. [ He declared, rubbed his hand back through his mess of hair. ]
Beer, beer, beer, whiskey, beer? Yes? Yes. Lead the way, Little Me, bar's thatta way. Inside, uh huh. Help yourself. There's uh--there's everything.
[ Keep moving, never hold still. Moving meant thinking, and thinking meant not groping Ray's ass as they went in the front door, which of course he did--how could he resist? ]
Just like I remember.
[ Who could argue with that grin? ]
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Asby's got energy, and that's pretty cool because so does Ray, plenty of it. He bounds up the steps when prompted only lingering long enough to make sure he's being followed. There's something mentioned about being a long lost brother and the Government and Ray's not entirely sure what's going on but he's thankfully not given much time to think on it. Instead he turns his attention to the view, barely able to process it all. His poor brain is on overload trying to sort through far too much information, none of which Ray's used to. Twins are weird enough, but being invited into a place like this outside of work hours is just out of this world. He'd never had a rich friend in his life, never had the opportunity to see something like this when in central Chicago.
He's fine with being eyed up. Can't blame the guy for it, not when they still both had to absorb this whole identical thing that Ray's not sure they'll be getting over any time soon. There's too much to see, too much to ask, and way too much to find out. Look all you want, older me, we got time.
He looks back but everything about this is blowing his tired little mind.
Not that he's given much time to think on that either, because there's the doors and apparently a bar which sounds like a damn good idea right now. Alcohol might help dull his racing thoughts.]
Hey! Not yours. I got a strict drink and dinner policy.
[Which is a lie, but ass grabs shouldn't really be a first greeting gesture by most societal rules. Not that this guy looked like he followed any rules. He's like what Ray had always wanted as a teen, that punked rock star look carried over no matter how old, and sure maybe Ray still tried to live by it to this day, but this guy was living the dream.]
Beer. Beer would be a good start, man.
[The bar isn't hard to find, but that doesn't mean he can't get distracted by pretty much everything on the way in. This was so unreal.]
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[ Rules? What were rules? It was true, though. That ass was his, and maybe Ray didn't know it yet - maybe he'd figured it out and was just putting up one of those perfunctory little fights just to prove he wasn't easy - but it was only a matter of time. There was something bucket list about it, like that impossible bucket list of things people could never do: go fuck yourself. Why not? And that grin, that mouth? How many times had he thought about going down on himself, what that would feel like? Looked himself in the eye as he came? Oh yeah, it was filthy as sin, but that was how Ashby liked to live his life. Dirty and fast. If he enjoyed himself then who the fuck cared?
He didn't know how much convincing Ray would take, but by the state of him and the way he was looking around the place like he'd just died and gone to punk heaven, it didn't seem like they were both wildly different from each other. Richer and poorer maybe, but Ray had that dirty grin--he had to have learned something in his life to put it there. And hey, he hadn't punched him in the face for having a little feel. He was well in there.
Lew grinned, stepping in through the doors. Big room, big windows, couches, chilling out space. It was all good. Distracting for people who hadn't been there before, but it couldn't be helped. It was a rite of passage and a passage of rights, records on the ceiling, instruments left in corners and laid on top of amplifiers and dangling from straps on pegs.
The big, dark wooden room with its corner stage was the next one along, one quiet corner of the house which disappeared as much off in the other direction as the way they'd come. Here was where the bar was set up, and Lew jumped front ways across the bar's surface, dangling his head and shoulders down out of sight to scoop up a couple of beers. He rolled one along to Ray, then heaved himself up to sit on the edge of the bar, grinning at him again. ]
Halfway there, hot stuff.
[ Cracked the bottle open on the lip of the bar, ignored the tumbling bottle cap and just kept on grinning around the first mouthful. He rubbed his nose with the back of his thumb. Twitch, wiggle. Then a solid quizzical stare, determined and totally unyielding. ]
So. What do you do when you're not lifting phones?
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So this guy might be kind of a lech, what with the ass squeeze and the comments and the constant grinning, but maybe that's a thing that happens when you get everything you want. If enough men and women throw themselves into your bed, it's bound to be assumed everyone is going to do the same, right? And of course you're going to try it with your face twin if you've had everyone else. Ray's not entirely opposed to the idea himself, but he really needs to get a few things straightened out first. Or a lot of things, really.
As Ashby's half throwing himself over the bar top, Ray opts for leaning on it with an arm, catching the bottle as it slides his way but keeping his gaze locked on the other guy. Cap off, on the floor. Okay, so they don't have to be tidy then, he can go with that. It feels kind of naughty, like being a kid again, and God, what a sad life he leads if letting a bottle cap fall to the floor is the height of excitement for him.
He smiles right back, swigging a long, grateful mouthful of beer as Ashby speaks, and then dropping his gaze thoughtfully, fingers drumming out an unidentifiable pattern on the wood.
To tell or not to tell. This old him seems legit enough, likely an actual music bigwig if the house is anything to go by rather than some shady gangster. And if you can't tell the truth to a total stranger who's identical to you, then who can you tell it to?]
I uh, I'm a cop. Detective. I line 'em up and knock 'em down, bambam. Not usually stealin' phones but I guess this one wasn't such a bad choice-- Oh, here.
[Beer on the bar for a second as he stuffs a hand into his jean's pocket and withdraws Ashby's phone, holding it out like some sort of peace offering.]
I like the uh, the beard, by the way. [Drawing a circle in the air around his own chin, as if Ashby wasn't quite aware where his beard was placed. Ray's stubble just can't compete with a greying goatee.]
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Yeah? You like that? You should grow one. Takes for-fucking-ever but it's worth it, you know. Brings the whole--
[ He draws a circle too, this one bigger, around his whole head. ]
--together.
[ Peas in a pod. He jams the phone in his pocket then heaves himself back up, crossing his ankles and banging them hard against the wooden boards of the bar. ]
So a cop, huh? That must suck. You got a uh-a uh thing about taking bribes or rewards or whatever, right? That's what the money would count as I guess. That's definitely a problem. [ He scratched his chin. ] What about royalty checks? I mean I say you whistled me a tune, it goes on the next record I produce, Ray the Cop goes in the credits--wham bam thank you missus you get what's owed you. As well as your name on a sleeve, which let's face it, that'd be cool right?
I mean unless you're one of those bribe taking cops, in which case... [ He paused, grinned. ] Or you could have a guitar. I got plenty.
[ Facetwins were special. Facetwin trumped friend. And besides, Ashby always paid his debts. If he said he was going to do something he did it. It was just a complication that Ray was legitimate. Nobody else's procurement of a large amount of cash would be doubted like that. But a friend gives him a guitar and that's okay, right? He wasn't sure how that worked.
He waved his hands toward the room. ]
Shoo. I know your fingers are itching. But I mean you're staying here, right? It's haunted but whatever. I just mean--well I mean you'll have hours to check the place out. You are staying, right? A couple of days?
[ Not at all needy what are you talking about? ]
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As is money, and his heart sinks just a little as Ashby brings it up. Fuck. That 20k sounded so good, but Ray knew right from the start that he'd never be able to accept it. Cops can't take bribes and rewards any more than they can accept gifts, and of course his ridiculous sense of guilt would gnaw away at him for it even if he did accept. It's like the gold bar thing all over again, except this time he doesn't have a Mountie to nag him about it.]
I can't take your money. Don't even know what I'd do with that sorta dough anyways.
[Twenty thousand might be petty cash to Ashby, but it's more like a years salary for Ray. Whatever, he won't let that put a downer on the fact he's got a mansion full of cool shit and he's being allowed almost free reign.
He pauses just a second to neck half the beer, thumps it back onto the bar and slips away with an eager smile like a kid at Christmas. He darts his way over to a well used blue Gibson Firebird that he'd clocked on his way in, slings the strap over his head, tests the tuning, and then slowly slinks his way back towards the bar, his attention flickering between the strings and Ashby as he tries out a few easy chords.]
I got tomorrow off. I guess maybe I could book more time, like they owe me a shitton of holiday, but uh. I'd have to run it by a buddy. [Easier said than done. Trying to persuade himself that Fraser can be left for more than a few days without the world imploding isn't easy.]
This place for real haunted? Like Scooby Doo up in here?
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He wanted to keep him. Life was too fucking boring not to try, right? ]
A buddy, huh? That's cute. Buddy. I dunno what sort of friendship that would be, but it sure sounds nice. Heh, buddies. Like fuckbuddies.
[ He was a little distracted but pretending not to be, all but nibbling on the glass rim of his beer bottle as he watched Ray, tonguing it absently. ]
Yeah. [ Haunted, right. That was the thing about conversations. You had to stop getting distracted by things going on and pay proper attention to the subject matter. Ray had checked the tuning; he had an ear, and he knew what he was doing. Joe Blow strangers usually just strummed and played with the guitars absently, like unevolved cavemen content to just make a noise.
So he was distracted. So shoot him. ]
There's like these uh--glowing balls of light things. Not that I've seen one. Other people, you know, they get funny about all the space, the history. It gets into their heads. Personally I think they were high.
[ He took another sip, looking thoughtful, then stopped performing oral on the bottle and forced himself to set it down on the bar. It was almost done with anyway. Drinking slowly was for people who couldn't keep their alcohol down. Besides, it was funny. Ray and that guitar, like he'd been drawn to it by the irony of the universe... ]
You like that one, huh? You keep it. It's uh - uhm - Billy Talent, you know. [ He grinned. ] People used to say we were the spitting image of each other too, but I never met the guy so I don't know.
Come on. [ He said, grabbing two more beers and hopping down, then setting off back down the hall for the stairs. ] Bring it, let's go up on the balcony.
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N-- [Not fuckbuddies. But who the fuck cares? It's entertaining that anyone even thinks that he and Fraser are like that, but then this guy has never met Mr. Uptight.
His attention lifts back to Ashby just in time to see the oral coming to a halt- damn, the guy even suffers from the same fixations as him. And this is why Ray knew he shouldn't have left his gum in his bag. And it's always why Ray really, really needs to find out if they're related or not because Jesus that mouth is amazing, and maybe that's narcissistic but it's not like he ever thought he'd get to see stuff like this without staring in a mirror every second of his life.]
Billy Talent? Yeah, I heard of him. Wow, that uh, that's some guitar. You sure you don't need this...? Thanks, man. [It would make a pretty bad ass addition to his apartment, buuut he probably won't find much time to ever actually attempt playing it. Either way, he keeps hold of it as Lew moves, gripping loosely around the neck and pushing it slightly aside to get away from his legs.]
You got any buddies or chicks livin' here? I guess it'd get pretty lonely if it's just you.
[Not that Ray's judging if there is any lonely living. He lonely lives every day of his life, and his life doesn't even involve mansions and amazing balconies.]
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[ And that was it, the briefest tiniest flash of vulnerability before the stig of the dump mentality took control all over again. Master of his own domain, king of the hill, no time to mope because there was just too much living to do.
In the vein, then, of not leaving it on a shitty pathetic note, he elected to extoll the virtues of his magnificent batchelorific existence. There wasn't a man alive who secretly didn't want to be him, and Ray - he could tell, had known since the text conversation - was no exception. ]
I mean, plenty people stay here. Fuck, I've had all sorts. Rock stars, writers, actors, stage magicians. House has a longstanding tradition of being a home from home for the rich and famous. Houdini, Madonna, Johnny fucking Depp. But who cares about those posers? You are by far my mostest favoritest housegist ever, Little Me.
[ One long winding set of stairs behind them, and at the top he led Ray through the master bedroom with its big gothic leather headboards, led him out toward the private balcony. ]
Used to have a waterbed. Fucking awesome, too, except maybe a week after I got it I had these two girls--not the best ass, but pretty good, stiletto heels. She wants to put her foot on my chest, and I am all for that. All for that. Whoosh, straight through. Bad, awful idea, but also really fucking funny.
[ He swung open the balcony doors, exposing them both to the dusky desert warmth, the sound of crickets chirping in the canyon below. It was a nice night; that helped him out a lot. Romantic. Haha. Was he romancing Ray, though? Sort of. Okay definitely. He was definitely going for it. It wasn't like that was odd for him, deciding so quickly he wanted to fuck someone; usually it took seconds, and while this time there had been a delay of a few minutes, he put that down to shock at having his younger self literally delivered onto his doorstep.
Of course he wanted to fuck him. Such insight his mind had swiftly provided. Which meant that this was without doubt a seduction. He just hadn't worked out all the rules yet. If he was going to be able to get it on without the interference of lovely naked ladies picked up from the Rainbow Room, then he would prefer to do that, prefer to keep Ray all to himself. He was all for sharing, he was the king of sharing, but when it came down to this situation, this commodity, these precious few hours to make his mark.
He was staring at Ray again, licking his lips, licking them again. Wants dinner or is dinner? Oh, that gave him an idea. ]
Hey, you like sushi? I got a place that delivers. [ And just like that he was calling out, raising his phone to his ear. It took maybe twenty seconds to order 'Yes, the usual,' and then he was beaming, leaning back in toward Ray. ] You're gonna love these guys. So come on, tell me a bit about you. Where'd you uh--you live your whole life in Chicago?
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He trailed after Ashby, eyes darting at every little detail to try and catch it all. Times like this make him wish he had a better memory, but he'd try to remember as much of it as he could. This is the sort of tale you tell your grandkids about.
The bedroom is nice. Big. Probably needs to be for all the sex and drugs and rock and roll that likely goes on in this place. Stiletto heels and waterbeds, indeed, Ray's not judging, he's not even on duty. Besides, he's a cop, not a party pooper, the two don't have to be mutually exclusive.
What really makes the room though is that balcony, the view is great and the weather is perfect. Better than anything Chicago usually gets, that's for sure. Ray slips the guitar back over his shoulder and leaves it at the doorway, finding himself a good leaning spot at the surrounding balustrade and reaching for a beer from the staring Ashby. The guy can lick his lips all he wants, Ray doesn't care.]
Yeah, it-- [Never mind, looks like the decision is made for him anyway. Ashby's the expert here, Ray can't know where to get the best of everything, especially not to the standard that this rich guy is probably used to living. Sushi it is. He doesn't mind something a little different from pizzas and burgers.]
Me? Nothin' to tell. I, yeah, Chicago born and bred, and uh. I dunno. All the normal stuff. Family, grew up, loved, lost, got a job, got an apartment. Nothin' like this. I mean, shit, I could fit my whole place into like one room here. Could probably fit my life in alongside it. Wow, you must have some stories though.
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[ Maybe it was, but Ashby could sound more cheerful about it. He didn't make it sound like a dream. But he was much more interested in Ray's story: grew up, loved, lost. That was familiar. And it amused him. There it was: 'Nothing to tell'. Wasn't that what he said too? Nothing to tell. Nothing personal anyway. All front, all work, nothing real. ]
I dunno--Chicago PD? You're rocking out, I mean, that's pretty cool too. You're like an actual real life hero or something.
[ He folded his hands on the balcony and leant across it, throwing a quick grin back Ray's way. Get serious and then disarm. Except...well, Ray was his facetwin, right? He should be honest about it right?
Yeah not likely. How could he be at all impressive and wind him in if he was also some delicate human flower? Vulnerable. Not bloody likely. So he'd play it up, gloss over it. ]
Let's see. Dropped out of college to pursue a "career" in music. Rolled into town in my beat up old Mustang with a lady in tow. Lost the lady. Didn't become a rock god or whatever but I got the dream anyway. See the trick is that the real money's in producing. That and it's less difficult to balls up.
[ He stepped away from his part of the balcony, stepping over toward Ray, past him, and then swung his arm with a little more than simple familiarity across his double's hips. ]
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: I can't possibly fuck him if it turns out he's my brother or something, but that uh - that uh - we know about that shit. Well I do. Had a kid a few years back claiming to be my nephew, I got the whole thing done. Genealogy whatever. So don't you worry your little head about it, huh, sexy?
[ He ruffled Ray's hair with the hand not holding him around the waist, tipped against him. ]
Stop me if I'm being too forward. I'm just saying what we're both thinking.
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The tale of dropping out of college to pursue a career is similar enough to Ray's own life, but the rock god and producing less so. Maybe that's the way he should have gone judging by the amount of money in it, but he's happy where he is now. He's got a Canadian friend, a wolf pal and a turtle. What more could you want in life? The simple things keep him happy.
When Ashby moves, Ray stays where he is, tensing up just slightly as that arm loops around him like he's expecting something more than an embrace. Proof to himself that he's been working for too long when his first reaction to any contact is to fight back. But this is fine, this is okay. This isn't some scumbag trying to attack him, this is a guy who looks exactly like him trying to make a move. And who can really blame him?]
You some kinda mind reader now?
[He tries to catch the other out of the corner of his eye, still intent to lean on the balcony because seriously, this really could be a relation and yeah, maybe some stuff has crossed his mind but he's not dwelling on the idea until genes are established.]
C'mon, you expect me to believe that? You got tested so everything is fine an' dandy? They just give you whatever results you want, man, so long as you got the money. Even if that was legit, you could still have some Kowalski in you.
[Even if having a face twin from genes alone seems pretty unlikely seeing as they don't even seem to share the same mother.]
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His motives are undeniably unkosher. But then Ray didn't come here for the money, knew he couldn't walk away with it really. He'd come for the experience, maybe, but he'd come for Ashby too; had been drawn to him, moth to the flame. Or maybe Ray was the flame, and Lew was the aged moth with the ragged gothy wings.
He kept his hand right where it was, since Ray wasn't shaking him off. He was already anticipating their meal, knowing he wasn't going to proceed beyond this piss poor passmaking until there was food on the...table. But that didn't mean he coudn't try. He was a pro at this. ]
Yeah? I could still have a little Kowalski in me huh? I like that--that an uh...that a promise?
[ His eyes were dancing, full of joy and life. Excitement. Hunger. Lust. He couldn't help himself. Innuendo was easy. Ray had left him that opening, and he'd be damned if he was going to miss it. He plucked his beer back off the balcony and took another healthy gulp, if only to punctuate his efforts, stayed close. Boundaries? What boundaries? ]
They say there's like...seven people who're totally identical to you in the world. Now I don't know if that's true, but who the fuck cares? What're you gonna do, knock me up with some sorta crossbred identical assbabies?
[ Another dazzling sidewards grin. What the hell ever. He gave a big shrug, as though to a question he was asking himself rather than Ray, and then he leant across, unleashed his tongue and ran it up the edge of Ray's face, hot and wet and releasing his arm very slightly so Ray could spring away if he wanted to. He wasn't going to hold him prisoner.
But this was it: full throttle, giving it 110%, and who could blame him? He was Lew Ashby.
Fuck, but he wasn't sorry. He'd thought about doing that since Ray had stepped out of the car. ]
Dinner. Dinner, I get it. Then I'll show you what else I can do with my mouth, and you can decide how much you really care about all that other stuff. Deal?
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This was tough. This was a case of weighing up what he wanted, what he should be doing and whatever the fuck his older twin was trying to do. Ray can admit he came here out of curiosity, that much is obvious, but he's not sure what he was hoping for or what he was expecting. Was he imagining he'd have this guy trying to get into his pants? Maybe. It's not entirely unusual to consider that sort of thing if you were to meet your double. It's not really anything more than masturbation, just a lot more pleasurable and entertaining.
Trouble was, Ray wasn't used to this. All this being embraced and touched and treated well. People don't show interest in him like this usually, especially not so outwardly. It's kind of nice, to be chased after by someone desirable.
Was it narcissistic to think Ashby was desirable? Probably. But he was pretty damn attractive, better looking than Ray's own youthful looks, he thinks. That face just looks better with a bit of age to it. But would the age and this persona of rich guy getting everything he wants mean that he knows what he's doing in the sack? If it does, Ray's screwed. He's barely been with anyone since Stella and he'd be the first to admit he might be a little rusty. Or a lot rusty.
Maybe just... maybe keep this stuff to a minimum so he doesn't embarrass himself and--
That was a lick. Not exactly keeping 'this stuff' to a minimum. Ray's head jerks away out of pure instinct but his body doesn't move. Not exactly intent to get away from it, but he's furrowing his brows into a distant frown, more for show than any actual annoyance.]
Dinner. Right. Keep this up and I'll show you what I can do with this bottle.
[Idle threats, emphasised as he lifts the mostly full beer bottle in Lew's direction. Physical violence or sexual orientated, who knows? It's probably left open ended on purpose.
He hasn't socked this guy in the fact yet. That's somewhat of a surprise to himself. Maybe instinct are telling him something, maybe not. Might just be that he likes this mansion too much to be upsetting the owner just yet, plus he'd really like to get back to Chicago without spending a fortune on air fares.]
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And also not the point.
Sure, he was interested because Ray was hot, but he was more interested because Ray was him, and had been from the very start. So he puts his tongue against his bottom teeth and curls it, grins with just his top line of pearly whites, and clocks his thumb against the side of his nose. That's all the answer he really needs to give. ]
That [ He declared. ] Is really fucking hot.
[ He dropped his arm away, though he remained just as close as he'd been allowed to get in, his eyes going between Ray's mouth to his own drink and then out to the canyon again. A white van was climbing the driveway, and as it reached the bottom of the steps three people climbed out, all wearing chefs whites, impossible to pick out who was what from above. Lew watched them hawkishly for a moment, then turned his attention back to Ray's mouth, which was infinitely more distracting and far more exciting to look at. ]
You know I always wondered what it'd be like to sleep with a cop? [ His eyes went back to the distance as he raised the topic. ] I mean like--I've slept with cops, lady cops, but not detectives. Way too rich for me. No I uh...mean that's sort of kinky, right? "Tell me where you hid the blow, cocksucker." That could be hot. Not that I'm saying--I mean. I'd never. With you. Diminish and belittle you like that. You're special, I feel like I've known you my whole life.
[ And maybe in some ways it was true, but there was nothing remotely resembling truth to it either; one text conversation and a half hour hanging out with each other did not soulmates make.
He reached up, though, hand at the side of Ray's neck like he couldn't help himself from touching, rubbing little circles into the hair behind his ear. ]
They got a dinner bell they ring when it's all ready. Man, you are going to love this. They don't have anything like this in Chicago, I mean, this is LA, if you want them to make you a twelve foot wedding cake shaped like a cock they'll do it.
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He keeps Lew in his peripherals, suspicious of more attempts, but his attention locks onto the van, watching the three figures emerge from the vehicle. Actual chef whites. What happened to one delivery boy in a banged up motor? They sure do turn it up a notch for the rich and famous.
They don't keep his attention for long, though, not when he's got his own face to look at, absently chewing at his bottom lip as he looks at his face twin looking at him. There's going to be a whole lot more staring for the next day or two, he imagines. It's a hard sight to get over, although while Ashby might be fixated with the lips, Ray's more intent to make direct eye contact.]
If you thought beddin' a cop was all handcuffs and roleplay then... I dunno, maybe you're not so wrong. But I'm all outta handcuffs and I've never been so good at the roleplay stuff. I'm a simple pleasures kind guy. Just give me some t&a and I'll be happy.
[Except Ashby's kind of lacking in the t part of that, and Ray's still not quite sure how he feels about that.
With the wet trail so kindly left on his face cooling in the evening air, Stan lifts an arm to rub at it with the back of his hand. And then he's turning, using that hand to lean back on the balcony railing while inadvertently twisting away from Ashby's hand in the turn, leaning and casual, beer in hand.]
You ever fight? Fisticuffs or guns or anythin'? Like real fight for your life, balls deep in shit kinda fightin'? That's where it's at. You live like that and suddenly you're just happy to be alive no matter how simple yer life sex life is. I guess cops are easily pleased so long as you ain't shootin' or stabbin' us.
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But Ray is interested, there's no doubt about it. Lew had seen him look right at his mouth when he'd been tonguing his beer bottle before, and they kept catching and maintaining eye contact. Looking right back into his own eyes was like staring into a mirror, except this mirror wasn't doing exactly what Lew was doing; it was unpredictable, could reach out and grope him or punch him or kiss him and he wouldn't know until it happened. Fucking thrilling. ]
Oh yeah? And you like that? You wanna live like that? Simple? I mean it's not like I don't respect that whole survival thing - shit, I've been there, I can scrap with the best of them - but isn't that a bit...I mean. Boring? Do a bit of thrusting, roll over and go to sleep?
[ He scratched his chin with his free hand, then turned and leant back on the railing himself, puzzled and scowling. ]
You really like that shit? I mean I am really fucking sad for you, Little Me. All you gotta do is flash that badge and that pretty grin of yours and you could take home any piece of ass you like, you know that? "Chicago PD, I'm sorry ma'am but there's been an emergency, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to eat you out."
[ Another sidewards flash of a grin, this one a little subdued, and then something more thoughtful. ]
Hey, but we could do that... I mean the hitting thing. After dinner, though, cause I'm starving, but if you wanna wrestle we can wrestle. [ He popped away from the wall, and two steps back toward the open door the gong went. He smirked back over his shoulder at Ray. ] Winner gets the other guy's ass. C'mon.
[ Dinner was laid out downstairs. Or well. It was literally laid out. A table had been unpacked, and across it lay a very naked, sun bronzed woman with tumbling black hair. Dinner was on her; long trails of rice interspersed with morsels of sushi, and not a single fish or shellfish derivative to be seen. State of the art vegetable sushi, thinly sliced threads of meat sashimi of venison, beef and duck, veiled nipples and made artful swirls across her belly. There were tiny little edible flowers and flashes of dark green leaves laid out under some of the display, but they were mostly decoration rather than intended to hide anything. ]
Best thing about the place isn't even the presentation. [ Stepping back so he was hovering over Ray's shoulder, Lew murmured over it into his ear. ] See, any other sushi place in the city would kill me, but this guy's son has allergies too, so uh--so we're good. I'm good.
[ He licked his lips. ] It's called uh--nyotaimori. [ And hey, Ray had wanted T&A. There was no denying that he was getting it. ] No chopsticks, though, that's my special rule. Go on, you don't gotta wait on ceremony.
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He and Stella had tried some things, sure. Some things. But it'd never really strayed too far from the norm, not enough for Ray to feel like he's got any sort of bragging rights that relate to 'I've seen some shit'. Maybe that's part of the reason for the divorce, another layer to their arguments and frustrations and everything else. Since her he'd only had a couple of embarrassing attempts with other women and first nights aren't exactly the time to really bring up the 'so I was thinking of trying this out...'. Well, not unless you're some sort of rock god with masses of money and the ability to risk shit like that.
So ok, maybe simple isn't so great, but simple is comfortable and familiar and if Ray can't even get lucky on simple then what's the point in trying the next step up? Walk before you can run, right? Unless that's where he's been going wrong. Might be that people just don't want simple guys any more. What if, in the twenty-odd years he'd been married to Stella, the world had evolved and he hadn't moved along with the times? Shit.]
Guess that's why I'm divorced and single.
[He mutters with a hint of amused self-deprecation to go along with it. This trip might be good for more than just seeing his clone after all, especially if he can keep up these self-revelations. Even if they do result in him crawling back to Stella and begging that he can change. Not going to help, Kowalski. And who was he kidding, he could never change, he could just be a little more self-aware and open to new things.
Whatever, this isn't some enlightenment trip to India, this is just him in a huge mansion in LA with a guy who likes identical to himself in virtually every way, give or take a decade. If he could be as honest with himself as this guy seems to be, then maybe shit would work out better.
He's hungry. That's probably why his mind is spouting tired and pointless exposition that's of no use to him. So when Ashby mentions dinner, Ray's all for following, deciding to settle on the wrestling idea with a vague;] Maybe.
[Once they get downstairs, Ray stops dead, staring at the spread before him with an uncertain sort of disbelief, all blank faced and slow blinking. That's not something you see every day. At least not in Chicago. That's not even something he's ever heard of before, let alone seen. Food on a naked chick? Seems an odd concept. But hadn't Ray just been thinking about how much he's up for trying new stuff since the Mountie showed up in his life. This was definitely new stuff to try.]
Uh. Is she uh. Is she okay with this? Like uh, is this legit? [Head turned just slightly to other at his shoulder, voice lowered like he's afraid he might be overheard by the other body in the room. God, he hopes this isn't some sort of weird prostitution thing. How clueless he was to the International ways of the world.
But damn, she was beautiful, even if Ray was still uncertain as to whether he should be staring or not, like he's suddenly shy by the sight of naked bodies.]
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Oh that was cool. Ray fell dead still, staring, and that was exactly the kind of reaction he'd been hoping to get out of him. Little bit of shellshock when on holiday was good for the soul. This was like the Orient to Ray; exotic and so far outside his usual lifestyle that they may as well be on another planet.
And that was what Ashby liked best. Blow them away. Then he could do anything he wanted and masquerade it as perfectly normal.
He smirked. Ray wasn't looking at him any more, but then Ashby didn't blame him. She was really quite pretty, and from what he could tell Ray was dry--had just come out of a marriage where the fun had gone out of it, probably hadn't had a whole lot of glory since. And there she was, everything that LA could get you laid out and decorated and edible. Poor bastard, he'd been dropped in at the deep end.
So Ashby stepped closer, pressing his chest against Ray's back, leaning in so that his mouth brushed the shell of his ear. ]
It's totally legit, completely above board. It takes a lot of skill to stay put like that; she's a professional.
[ He bit Ray's earlobe firmly, then nudged him forward step by step, putting all of his force into his chest to urge him forward. ]
Now if you wanted to sleep with her that would be extra, and if I'm honest with you I'm not really feeling the charitable spirit tonight. The hell am I paying someone else to get what I'm after.
[ He pinched Ray's butt, then grabbed his hand and led the way, led him the rest of the way across the room. He pointed at the girl. ]
Go on. She's pretty, right? You like her. I definitely like her. It's pretty hot, and we're all having a lot of nice, safe, sexy fun. That's all this is.
Here, here. You kneel right down. [ He was close again; he was crooked in against the corner of Ray's throat, smirking still, a little flushed, definitely aroused. It was audible in his voice. ]
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He really did have a lot more to learn about life. Briefly he does wonder if Fraser would have ever heard of this, which might be a mildly inappropriate thing to be considering as Ashby's pressing in closer but it's a valid train of though that he doesn't entirely discount.]
Yeah, no. No payin' for any kinda sleepin' with. C'mon, let the girl do her job without all the sleaze stuff.
[Because apparently Ray is suddenly a strong advocate of women's rights or something. Or he just doesn't want any slight suggestion of paying for sex anywhere near him. Cops and prostitution shouldn't mix.
He still has to deal with Ashby though, the guy trying to woo him with all of this and the far too frequent touching. Ray didn't mind a bit of friendly contact, he's all for that, especially by his own hands, but this was pushing it. Especially with the bite that has him hissing out a quick exhale and cocking his head away the second he's given the chance, and that pinch that has him flashing a warning glance towards the other but unable to do much else before he's grabbed and led.
Once they're at the table, Ray's using the closeness of Lew curling in against him to his advantage, his elbow suddenly jerking towards the edge of Ashby's ribs, more as a caution than any real attempt to cause serious pain. Just a little display of 'keep your distance and let me eat'.]
Other side of the table, pal. I can sit myself down just fine.
[And he's going to wait for that dick to move before he kneels himself down, because there's no way he wants to be on his knees beside this guy. Not yet anyway. Ahem.]
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Lew Ashby was the definitive version of Lew Ashby. He lived life like he only had one shot at it, and his answer to everything was yes.
Well, to everything that wouldn't leave him penniless on the streets, which when people wanted your money or your babies was a constant risk.
Ray finally gave him a little bit of a fight back, and Lew knew he'd pushed him far enough that he was starting to find his legs again, remember who he was. He knew he'd won him over on the idea of sex already, though, but this way he'd be more confident maybe, more willing to push as be pushed. Ashby knew he had it in him. He hoped he did, anyway, it'd be hot. ]
Oh yeah?
[ And he knew it was about the kneeling, because he'd said that more or less setting him up for it, so he just grinned another dazzling grin and slipped out of there, giving Ray back his space and kneeling down on the tatami that had been rolled out on the other side of the table. It was the whole experience: that was sort of the point.
He folded his hands in front of himself and bowed reverently to his partner, and then he spared a glance for his table. ]
You alright there, sweetness? Yes. Hell yes.
[ And now he could watch Ray, watch that face with his own captivated glacier blue eyes, ravishing him hungrily without ever so much as touching him again. No, instead he leaned in, unfurling his tongue along the curve of her hip, then wrapping his mouth around one of the pieces of sushi, leading by example. He didn't take his eyes off Ray as he did it, nor as he chewed, and he didn't raise his head much more than a few inches either.
Oh, this was sexual alright, but it had nothing to do with the naked lady. To Lew this was absolutely nothing less than full on foreplay. ]
Tell me the most...the most dangerous thing you've ever done. The most danger you've ever been put in.
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