Same disclaimers are in play
Note: As we all know, life likes to throw curve balls ... the uploader (Alf) has had some icky family stuff going on. Nothing totally life altering, just taking longer than normal. Apologies to you all and to Kevan for the delay. Mea culpa.
10 If Handcuffs Could Talk
By Marilyn (Ranger Hunters) and Kevan
Uploaded by Alfonsina.d
Flashbacks (Bobby)Halfway to the kitchen for a glass of water, I heard a yell from Az and Rav's bedroom. It wasn't a that-feels-good-don't-stop-give-me-more kind of yell. I'd heard those from Rav. It was kind of hard not to when you occasionally slept in the same house because Rav was loud during sex. No, this yell was fear that bordered on panic—and it was real.
The bedroom door was closed but I opened it without hesitation. Forget privacy. If something scared Rav, it wasn't something that could be easily handled. Or if something had happened to Az…
The room was dim, but enough light leaked in from a nightlight in the adjoining bathroom and the open door behind me that I could see what was happening. A quick scan assured me there was no intruder—someone would have to be suicidal to even try, but you never know, loony bins exist for a reason. Az and Rav were in bed, Rav moaning and struggling, hands fisted in the sheets, legs thrashing, his head turning side-to-side. Az leaned over him, not restraining him in any way, but talking to him in a calm soothing voice like you would use on a frightened animal.
A nightmare. One that Rav hadn't woken up from yet.
I started to turn away when something Az said caught my attention. I started listening. Az wasn't telling him everything was okay, to wake up, that the dream wasn't real. He was telling Rav they were on a beach and the sun was shining and the ocean was warm. He kept on, building a picture with words of a calm, tropical paradise.
Gradually, Rav relaxed. He stopped moving and curled onto his side. His breathing evened out and deepened, as he slipped deeper into sleep, the nightmare gone.
No, I realized, not a nightmare. Nightmares you woke up from or people woke you up from them. Az hadn't tried to wake Rav, hadn't touched him. Not a nightmare. A flashback. PTSD.
Damn. I knew a couple of guys who suffered from PTSD and it could seriously mess you up. I hadn't had a clue about Rav. He'd never exhibited any of the signs.
When Rav was quiet, Az got out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants, and gestured toward the kitchen. He left the bedroom door open when he followed me in there.
"PTSD?" I asked
Az sighed heavily. "Yeah, sort of. Rav has a couple of…incidents…in his past."
Curious phrasing but I figured it wasn't the time to dig into the details. Besides, they were none of my business. Whatever caused Rav's problem was his story to share or not, but the problem itself…
"He seeing anyone about it? Counselor or doctor?"
"No," Az shook his head, his braids swinging. "Tried once. Took me months to convince him to go. It's not that Rav chooses not to talk to people about serious things—it's like he can't. He wanted to talk about what happened, wanted help, but he just couldn't say the words."
"Bad?" I already knew the answer. You don't end up with PTSD from good memories, but some are worse than others.
"Bad," Az agreed. "When he told me enough that I could piece together what happened to him, after he went to sleep, I threw up."
Crap. I did not want to know what could turn Az's stomach. I'd seen him do things without flinching that nearly turned mine. "Whoever he saw didn't help at all?"
"He made sure I understood about not doing anything to startle him when it hits. Don't touch. Don't try to wake him up."
I nodded. From my medic training I knew all the basics of dealing with someone having an attack, especially someone as lethal as Rav.
"And he suggested that instead of trying to get Rav out of whatever memory he's caught in, to try and replace it with a good one. He said it works with some people, if it's someone they trust that's shifting the memory. If they can subconsciously recognize you, they'll follow you out of the bad memory and into the good one." Az blew out a breath and poured himself a glass of water. "That's not a very good explanation. I don't know the science or theory behind it, but it works with Rav. The only problem is that when his mind lets go of whatever he's remembering and latches onto the new idea, it latches on hard. He's sleeping deep right now; he usually won't wake up for a couple of hours. On the other hand, if something goes wrong—firecrackers, truck backfiring, pretty much any loud noise—he'll wake up instantly, in kill mode. And won't be able to get back to sleep for at least a day. Takes a hell of a toll on him when it happens."
"And you."
"Yeah," he finished his water. "It's tough on me too. I watch him go through that hell and I can't do anything to help. It rips me up inside, but it's what you do…" Az shrugged and padded back into their bedroom.
When you love someone, I finished for him. It's what you do when you love someone. You do whatever they need. Whatever it takes.
Az loved Rav. There was no doubt about that. I'd been to their house often enough over the last months, seen them together enough and watched the way they interacted, to know that they weren't living together for the sex. They were not fuck-buddies. It was not a temporary or casual hook-up. Theirs was a serious, committed relationship on both sides that was a lot stronger than most couples I knew. And it ran a lot deeper, too. I remembered the dance they'd shared. It had all been there. They laid their souls bare to each other. Secrets had no place in their relationship. They were partners on every level.
I envied them. Most people never came close to a relationship like theirs. One between equals that was as much mental as physical.
Az had left the bedroom door open and I looked in when I passed. Az was awake, halfway propped up against the headboard. Rav was still asleep, still curled on his side, his back pressed up against Az who had an arm draped over him.
"He likes me to hold him after one of these attacks," Az said quietly. "Says he knows if I'm here even if he's asleep and he needs the friend, not the lover. One time he said he wanted to clone me so he could be surrounded by friend to help him."
Rav had become a friend. He—and Az—had shared part of their private world with me. It was a gift from them that I deeply appreciated. Friends reciprocated. Rav was hurting. He needed comfort, strength to draw on. I could give him that.
I shed the jeans I'd pulled on over my boxers, lifted the covers, and slid into the bed. Az didn't say a word, just watched me. I wasn't sure how Rav would react—maybe I should have thought this through a little better, I didn't want to make things worse—and for a minute I thought he might wake up. He shifted a little and murmured as his face brushed against my side, but then he sighed and moved a hand to rest against me.
I breathed a sigh of relief. At some level Rav recognized me—and accepted my offer of comfort. He accepted me as a friend.
xoxoxox
The first time I woke, several hours later but still not daylight, the warm weight of Rav was partially draped across my chest and thigh, one arm across my stomach, the heavy silk of his hair spilling over us both. He was still asleep, his breath tickling over my skin. Az was still awake, lying behind him, an arm draped around him. Still watching. Still on guard. Giving his lover the friend he needed more at that moment.
The next time I woke, I was alone and the sun was up. I sat up, and my shoulder brushed against two sets of handcuffs hanging from the headboard. I had a moment of unease thinking about the sorts of acts they implied normally went on in that bed. Acts that hadn't been in anyone's thoughts the night before. I was going to have to sort out how I felt about sleeping with two gay guys, even with nothing remotely sexual happening, and how I felt about the friendship that was developing with them and where that might lead. I'd sort it out, but not now. Right now, I needed to get a handle on how awkward it was going to be to face Az and Rav after what had happened. Some things are easier to handle in the dark, and sometimes in the light, you're embarrassed about things you said and did in the dark—or regretted them.
I made it back to the guest room, took a shower, and dressed. Okay, let's get this over with, besides there was an amazing smell coming from the kitchen. That boded well for Rav's state of mind.
Az was sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, eyes on a tablet that he held. He glanced up when I walked in, nodded, and turned his attention back to the tablet. Okay, no awkwardness there.
Rav was cooking, his back to me. He was dressed in a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. His hair was braided and I could see the outline of a knife between his shoulder blades. There was another one strapped to his right calf. Maybe Rav wasn't doing so well. In all the times I'd been to their house, I'd never seen him in a shirt of any kind. Never seen his hair braided. Never seen him armed or wearing shoes. That was relaxed and unguarded Rav; the man beneath the mask. Today, there was tension in his body, his movements were sharper, more controlled.
This was his armor, his way of taking control back from what had torn him apart last night. This was Rav keeping a tight leash on fragile emotions. I wasn't sure what to say, or whether to say anything, so I poured a cup of coffee and joined Az at the table.
My ass had no more touched the chair than Rav sat a plate with a delicious looking, fantastic smelling omelet and fresh fruit in front of me. He set another one in front of Az.
Rav sat down but without the plate of food. He looked like he wanted to say something. He took a deep breath, let it out. Crossed his arms over his chest. Dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling. Took another deep breath. Looked back at the table then muttered something too quietly for me to make out what he said and left the room. I heard the front door open and shut.
I looked at Az, who didn't seem to be at all upset or concerned. He smiled and pointed to my omelet with his fork.
"That's Rav-speak for 'Thank you' and 'I owe you'. Usually after one of these attacks, he heads out to run as soon as he wakes up. Today, he hung around until you woke up and cooked for you."
I shook my head and dug into a delicious asparagus and brie omelet that I was never going to admit eating to Ranger. "Friends don't owe friends."
"You have my thanks too. Rav slept longer and better than he ever has after one of these attacks." He laughed. "You do realize he's never going to stop kissing you after you slept with us, right?"
Revenge on Rav (Bobby)Az was right. Rav didn't stop kissing me whenever I was at their house. Only one per visit, mind you, and it never went beyond that. He didn't do or say anything else that could be construed as sexual between us. No other touching. No innuendoes. No attempted seduction. It was, as Az had told me, Rav's warped sense of humor.
I pondered for weeks on how to get him to stop. I'd gotten to the point where the kisses didn't really bother me. I wasn't ever going to be into kissing guys, but this was an area where Rav had serious skills, so it wasn't unenjoyable either. No, it was more the challenge of getting him to stop. Rav started this and I needed to do something to either force a draw or one up him and win.
The answer came to me when I was in the office one day, finishing up some the loathsome task of bringing everyone's medical records up to date on the computer. Not that big a deal, I just hate doing it. The important stuff I enter right away, but the crap—like Lester needing three stitches after a session on the mats with Ranger—I let slide. Ranger had jumped my ass about it this morning so I decided to get it done before I had my own appointment on the mats with the boss.
I'd noticed that when Rav is in the office, he always brings a container of fresh fruit with him. He loves the stuff; it's like Steph and donuts. Fresh fruit is okay, but Rav would be in the big restaurant-style reach-in refrigerator in the break room a half-dozen times a day. I watched him as he opened the door, reached in, grabbed the container, and opened it. He stood there with the container in one hand, eating with the other, door still open. He took his normal six or eight bites, licked his fingers, snapped the lid back on the container, returned it to the shelf, shut the door, and left. Same as he did every time. I replayed the scene several times in my mind, analyzing every move Rav made. Yeah, that would work. And it would be public if I picked a time of day when several of the guys were in the break room.
x0x0x0x0x0x
It took a week until everything aligned. Rav was in the office. I was in the office. It was early afternoon and there were five other guys in the break room. Perfect storm.
Rav strolled into the break room and nodded toward Breeze who nodded back. Breeze was eating something the size of a small calf with his hands, juice dripping onto the newspaper-covered tabletop. Breeze worries me sometimes. Maybe I can talk Ranger into setting up a feeding time for him at the zoo—with the lions.
I waited until Rav was taking his second bite of fruit before I took up position behind the open refrigerator door where he couldn't see me, and waited, handcuffs in hand and open. The other guys noticed me, knew something was up, stopped what they were doing, and watched. No one warned Rav. Not even Az who was sitting on the far side of the room with Tank.
I heard the lid snap back on the container then Rav's right hand appeared around the edge of the door and grasped the handle. His body was still behind the door, his focus on putting the container back on the shelf. Perfect! I slipped one of the cuffs through the handle and snapped it on Rav's wrist. He tried to jerk back but I held the other cuff preventing that. He couldn't move forward or swing around toward me through the door, and the door was full height, ending only a few inches from the floor so he couldn't try a kick or sweep with his leg. He had no option but to whirl back around the door, reaching with his free arm to try and grab me. As soon as he did, I grabbed his free hand, jerked it back, and snapped the second cuff on it. Rav ended up with his hands cuffed behind his back, the chain running through the industrial-strength metal handle.
Not waiting to see how furious he was, I pushed him back, closing the door, and moved until I had him trapped between the refrigerator and my body. Rav's eyes narrowed when he saw who had cuffed him but before he could say a word, I put both hands on the sides of his face, leaned in, and kissed him. I may not have all Rav's kissing skills, but I'm not a novice and I used everything I'd ever learned and several of the things he'd done to me. I made that kiss as long and deep and passionate as I've ever made any kiss, and I swear he moaned a little at one point and some of the tension ran out of his body. He was definitely kissing me back. I slid my hands down between our bodies, eliciting another small moan, and unbuckled his utility belt. Then I broke off the kiss and stepped back, holding his utility belt up in one hand. Without it, there was nothing in reach that would help him get out of the cuffs. I'd made sure they were tight enough that even if he was double-jointed, he wouldn't be able to slip out of them. As I stepped back, I also made sure to remove the stiletto that Rav habitually wore hidden in his braid. I didn't think he'd be able to reach it but then I didn't trust Rav not to somehow get out of his boots and use his toes to retrieve it. Rav is seriously flexible. His expression was a satisfying combination of aroused, bewildered, and angry.
"Payback's a bitch," I told him loud enough for everyone to hear. The guys were already catcalling and jeering, but when I said that they erupted in laughter and applause. I gave Rav one of Ranger's patented tiny smile-smirks, watched him a few seconds longer and walked away.
Heading for the door, I did a quick check to see how Az was reacting. He was smiling and flashed me a thumbs-up. Guess Rav wasn't going to be getting any help from his lover in getting loose. And it was a certainty that none of the other guys would help him. At least not without demanding a high price in the gods only knew what currency.
Ranger was leaning against the door frame, looking vaguely amused. "Anything I need to know?"
"Rav's sense of humor got a little out of hand."
I heard the sound of cuffs jerking against metal behind me. The guys were still laughing and calling out various creative but unhelpful suggestions on how Rav could get loose. Or what it would cost him to get their help. Sexual favors seemed to be the leading contender—as usual.
"Maybe we should lock him and Lester in a room together for a time out. They've both been getting a little too creative lately," Ranger mused.
"Up to you, boss man. My work here is done." I held up Rav's utility belt and stiletto. "I'm going to go put these somewhere it'll take him a while to find when he gets loose."
Ranger's amusement grew; he almost smiled. "Haven't done equipment inspection in a while. I feel one coming on."
I hadn't planned on Ranger helping me out, but I wasn't going to protest. His occasional personal equipment inspections always turned up missing or unapproved items, and there were associated, creative punishments involved. A missing second set of handcuffs could have you detailing the entire fleet of SUVs. If Rav's whole utility belt was missing…
Forget a draw; I'd just won.
thanks for bearing with me...Kevan sends her love and appreciation ... again, all reading and reviews are most appreciated.