God, Kowalski looked like a damned prostitute.
He was standing there against that wall under a dying fluorescent light, and when he moved the bricks caught and tugged at the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His jeans were tight (Jesus, Stanley, you want to leave a little to the imagination, there?), and someone (Frannie, probably) had smeared some eyeliner on him, and maybe some mascara too. Ray could see his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek from halfway down the alley.
It was cold out, but Kowalski was warm and jittery under his hands as he slipped them around his waist. "How much?" Ray whispered against his ear, and was rewarded by feeling the tension drain from his body.
"Christ, Vecchio," Kowalski whispered, letting his head fall back onto Ray's shoulder. "Don't do that to a guy." His hair was slick with sweat and gel, and Ray could already feel his shirt getting damp where Kowalski's head was resting. "You get him?"
"He waltzed right out the front door, and the Duck Boys were on him in two seconds flat." Ray buried his cold nose in the warmth behind Kowalski's ear, causing him to jump. "You look like you had fun in there."
Kowalski hummed appreciatively as Ray pressed his lips to his throat. " 'm getting too old for this shit," he said.
Ray snorted. "You are? What the hell does that make me?"
"Not this," Kowalski replied, twisting his head away from Ray. "That," he explained, waving a hand at the club. "The dancing, and the flirting, and the�the goddamn mating rituals of the native Chicagoan." He rubbed at his eye, smearing makeup across his skin. "I just�I don't want to do any of it anymore."
"You don't have to," Ray said, reaching out to wipe the eyeliner away. He paused. "Well, until the next time Welsh needs an undercover guy, anyway." Kowalski groaned. "Hey, I'd do it for you, but something tells me I can't pull off the hooker thing quite like you."
That dragged a smile out of him. "Very few people can."
"And that's a thing to be proud of," Ray said with a grin, spinning Kowalski towards the end of the alley and giving him a push. "As much as I'm loving you in this getup, I have a feeling I'm going to love you even more out of it."
The GTO was parked around the corner, and Ray knew that Kowalski was tired when he let Ray fish the keys out of his back pocket and get into the driver's seat. "You mean that?" he asked as Ray started the car, and Ray was pretty sure they'd never started whatever conversation Kowalski was continuing.
"Mean what?"
"That I don't have to do it anymore."
Oh. "Sure. Like you said, you're getting too old for it." He glanced over, but Kowalski wasn't smiling. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out to run his fingers through Kowalski's hair. "Hey. You should know by now I don't say things I don't mean."
Kowalski's lips curved into a smirk. "Bullshit." Ray frowned. "You forget that I was you for a few years there. I don't think there's a person in Chicago who hasn't been lied to by Ray Vecchio at least once."
"Yeah, fair enough," Ray conceded.
"So you can't expect me to believe�"
"I don't lie to you," Ray interrupted, and Kowalski shut his mouth. "I meant it."
"Good." Then Kowalski was half on his side of the car, pressed up against him, lips tracing the line of his jaw, the edges of his hair, the corners of his eyes. "Good," he whispered again beside Ray's ear, and then he pulled back into his seat, leaving Ray cold and alone on his side of the car.
"So I heard something about getting me out of this getup?" Kowalski prompted, and that was enough to get Ray to put the car into reverse, but not before he caught Kowalski's jaw in his fingers and pulled him in for a long sweet kiss that erased all memory of the cold.