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Walking off the stage, all Frank can think about is how much he hurts. His wrist and shoulder pains are to be expected. A permanent sort of pain that dug itself into his life after the accident. Chronic. Inescapable. Familiar. That, mixed with aging, and the general soreness that rewards a show well done, and Frank feels like he’s moving like a poorly articulated doll.
The show was incredible, the kids are always incredible, he is so fucking grateful that he can still do this, still perform with his best friends over twenty years after the formation of the band.
The aches and pains and stiffness is all well worth it to do what he loves.
He’s got his post show cool down to a science at this point, and showering at the venue certainly helps to jumpstart the process. Frank just needs to make it to the hotel in one piece. He catches Ray watching him as they walk through the parking lot, a deep furrow etched between the brows of his lead guitarist, and Frank gives the other a tight lipped smile that he hopes portrays that he’s okay.
Clearly, Frank needs to brush up on his acting skills, because Ray immediately cuts through their entourage to walk beside Frank, wordlessly grabbing his bag from him.
“Toro, you don’t gotta—”
“I don’t mind,” Ray smiles at Frank and it’s like the sun is bursting through the night sky, warm and blinding.
“Well. Thanks, then,” Frank mutters sheepishly, despite the fondness swelling in his chest. He ducks his head to the side slightly, feeling all too exposed.
“‘Course, Frankie.” Frank can hear the smile in Ray’s voice and it only makes him duck further, trying to hide into himself. He feels the strong arm across his shoulders before he sees it, and can’t help the small laugh that erupts from his chest as he’s pulled against Ray’s body, a firm kiss pressed to the side of his head. “Anytime,” Ray murmurs into sweat-damped hair, before kissing him a second time and gently releasing Frank.
The rest of the walk to the car is comfortably quiet, the post-show adrenaline trickling away to a satisfied exhaustion. Ray opens the passenger door for Frank to climb in, before tossing both of their bags into the back and walking around to get behind the wheel.
Frank leans his head against the window as Ray drives, peeking over at him from the corner of his eye. The radio softly plays whatever top 40 hits station the rental is set to, the drive to the hotel too short to warrant changing it.
Frank is struck by how the more things change, the more they stay the same.
They’ve been here before. Younger, poorer, in a much grodier van, talking quietly up front about where they think they can go from here, what songs they want to write next, what they can fix for the next show.
The times when they were sure everyone else was sleeping, and the conversation drifted into something more raw, more affectionate, a tentative exploration into them beyond co-guitarists. As Ray and Frank. Who they were, and what they wanted.
Frank’s throat tightens from nostalgia and he reaches out, placing his hand into Ray’s and giving him a firm squeeze. Ray returns the gesture without hesitation, glancing over at Frank as he turns into the hotel lot.
Neither of them say anything. They don’t need to.
Ray parks the car in the driveway in front of the lobby and steps out, handing the keys to the valet with a soft thank you as he makes quick work of grabbing the pair’s bags and trotting after Frank, who is already halfway to the front desk.
Check in is a smooth process, and within no time, Frank is unlocking the door to their room with a chirp and a click, relief washing over him as he steps into the warmly lit room. Ray brushes in after him, kicking the door closed and setting their bags onto the desk as Frank beelines it to his bag as it hits the wood to collect his show after-care kit.
The quiet continues to stretch between them as they settle into all too familiar hotel routines, and by the time Frank has settled on the edge of the bed with his Icy Hot and KT tape, Ray is freshly changed and watching him with that same concerned expression from before.
“Hey Frankie?” Ray’s gentle voice cuts into the quiet, breaking Frank out of his own head. He hums in acknowledgement as he looks up at Ray, uncapping the roll-on cream.
“Let me help you with that?”
Frank blinks at him once, and then a second time. He smiles a bit and waves his hand, glancing away from Ray. “It’s okay, I’m used to taking care of it myself, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“I don’t mind,” Ray says for the second time that night, crossing over to Frank. He takes the bottle of Icy Hot out of Frank’s hand, giving him a knowing smile as the shorter man rolls his eyes.
“You can never take no for an answer, can you?” Frank teases, that exposed feeling creeping back into his body.
“When it comes to making you feel better? Nah, typically not,” Ray laughs, before tapping on Frank’s arms. “Lift ‘em, getting these shirts off you first,” he mumbles, and for a second Frank considers fighting harder against Ray, but he’s tired and he hurts, so he reluctantly lifts his arms.
Ray is gentle as he pulls off Frank’s layers, not wanting to jostle anything that already hurts. Frank can’t help but feel a little toddlerish as he’s stripped down, avoiding the intensely focused stare Ray has trained on him. When Frank’s arms and shoulders are officially freed, Ray carefully kneels on the ground in front of him, setting the Icy Hot beside him. Frank doesn’t miss the way Ray’s knees pop, wincing a little at the sound.
“Ray, c’mon, really, I can handle it myself,” he blushes softly as Ray gently takes Frank’s hand into his own and carefully digs calloused fingers into Frank’s palm.
“I know you can handle it yourself,” Ray starts as he slowly massages Frank’s fretting hand, brows knit in concentration. “You don’t always have to, though.”
Frank is speechless as he watches Ray, that same tightness taking over his throat as Ray meticulously moves down each finger with the same care he uses when he’s handling his guitars. Like Frank is something precious.
When Ray is satisfied with his work on Frank’s hand, he grabs the Icy Hot again and rubs it into his wrist, drawing a small sigh from the man above him. As much as Frank hates to admit it, this is… nice. It’s certainly much easier, and it’s made so much better because Ray knows what that strain and soreness feels like.
“Shit, Ray, wait, you should worry about yo—” Ray cuts Frank off with a pinch to his thigh, looking up at him through his brows.
“I did what I needed to at the venue, I’m okay,” he smiles and lifts Frank’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “You’re a little more high maintenance,” Ray jokes with a grin, setting Frank’s hand down to grab the tape. “Besides, it seemed like tonight took more out of you than usual.”
Frank huffs and sticks his tongue out at Ray, despite the laugh he’s struggling to keep down. “Alright, fuck off, I’m not that high maintenance,” he pointedly chooses to ignore Ray’s final comment, even if the other guitarist is right. Frank doesn’t like to admit when he pushes himself too far. Maybe it’s fucked up, but he feels like it diminishes the work he does, in a way.
Ray simply hums in response as he peels the backing off a strip of tape and gently places it at the top of Frank’s wrist, before stretching it a bit as he brings it up his forearm. Frank watches, smiling softly when he notices Ray’s tongue poking out in concentration as he takes another strip to bring around Frank’s wrist, crossing over the first piece. He realizes that Ray is doing it exactly the same way Frank does. He never knew that Ray was paying attention. Frank looks away, the back of neck prickling as he’s reminded of just how much Ray cares.
“There we are,” Ray murmurs as he smooths his thumb over the back of Frank’s hand before moving to his other wrist, methodically starting the same process over again.
Silence seeps into the room again as Frank watches Ray work, delicate and precise with his movements as he finishes the tape placement. He sets down Frank’s hand with a satisfied smile and rests his chin on Frank’s knee, looking up at him like he placed the stars in the sky.
“See how much nicer it is when you let someone else take care of you?” Ray murmurs, beaming as Frank brings a well taped hand to carefully card through Ray’s hair, gently untangling the small knots he finds along the way.
“Yeah, fine,” Frank grins down at him and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “Thank you,” he says, much softer.
“Like I said. Anytime,” Ray carefully stands back up, stretching a little as he meets his full height. “Want me to put any Icy Hot on your shoulder, old man?”
Frank snorts and nods, pulling his socked feet up onto the bed to sit criss-cross. “Sure, yeah, get up here.”
Ray laughs as he crawls behind Frank, sitting down with his legs on either side of his hips. He presses a small kiss to the base of Frank’s neck, unable to resist showering him in affection, before rubbing the cream onto Frank’s shoulder.
Frank sighs as he leans into the touch, tilting his head to the side slightly with the urge to give Ray more space as deft fingers press into sore muscles to relieve built up knots. He can’t help but sink into the feeling as his eyes fall shut. “Alright, maybe having another person help with this rules, you win,” Frank grumbles, drawing another laugh from Ray. They’re close enough that Frank can feel Ray’s breath tickle his neck, causing him to giggle in turn.
“You should take advantage of my talented hands more often, Frank,” Ray says coyly, making Frank turn to look at him over his shoulder with a raised brow.
“Hey, if you’re offering,” Frank grins with a wink, but the moment quickly crumbles when Ray’s thumb digs into a particularly tight knot, making Frank wince. He lets his head drop as Ray gives a sympathetic hum, doing his best to carefully work out the knot.
“Another night,” Ray murmurs, only letting his hands pause when he hears a sigh of relief from Frank as some of the remaining tension in his muscles eases.
“Thank you, Ray,” Frank rolls out his shoulder slightly, crickling his nose at the stretch. “I appreciate it. A ton.”
Ray hums again as he practically drags Frank into a tight hug, arms secured around his soft waist. “I know you do,” he lies down, still holding Frank to his chest and pulling a startled yelp from the other as they hit the mattress. “Now show your appreciation by going to sleep,” Ray mumbles into Frank’s skin.
Frank rolls his eyes and reaches his hand to pinch Ray’s side. “You could have been asleep already, I didn’t ask for your help,” he feigns offense, squirming around in Ray’s grip until they’re facing each other.
Ray shrugs, a soft smile ghosting over his lips. “Could’ve. I’m not. Stop talking,” he giggles, reaching to pull the covers over them. “Sweet dreams, Frankie.”
Frank huffs and snuggles closer to Ray. “Yeah, whatever, goodnight, Toro.”