For Riverlight by Shrewreader
Ritual Disclaimer:
Created by Paul Haggis, brought delightfully to the screen by Paul
Gross & Callum Keith Rennie. All rights remain theirs: no
harm is intended by this work of fiction, and profit is made.
Well. Except for the people who make Kirkland saline solution, 'cause
writing this while wearing 10 year old glasses sucked. I put contacts
in. On the weekend. Hope the recipient appreciates it. *G*
Notes: Special thanks go to the betas and hand holders who kept me sane while I was doing this. They are, (alphabetically), aukestrel (who suggested I throw Ray into the muskeg), dkwilliams, gryphonrhi, , kijikun, miriel, mondschein1, and wenchita.
Particular references for the bits about the unlicensed guides and the people who do stupid ass hunting things can be found at this spectacularly useful and amusing site. Be sure to put down your drink before you go to it, 'cause the stupid human tricks are downright hysterical.
Magnetic Variation
For Riverlight
By Shrewreader
Genre: F/K post COTW
Rating: PG-13-R-ish
Ray Kowalski stopped on Two Lakes Trail and wondered if he was perverted. It really couldn't be normal for someone to be turned on just by watching Fraser hike ahead of him. Polarfleece-lined jeans didn't quite hug Fraser's butt the way plain denim did in the summer, but the sight was still enough to take Ray's breath away. At least, he thought it was the sight. It could, he admitted, be the wind chill of zero.
Fraser stopped and turned. "Ray?" The sun shone from right behind his head. He looked like a silhouette for a RCMP recruiting poster.
"Your hat's gonna blow off again," Ray said, leaning on a tree for a moment.
"Need a minute?" Early on, Ray had needed breaks to catch his breath.
Ft. Colville was about 5,000 feet higher than Chicago had been.
Ray shook his head. "Nah. Just admiring the view."
Fraser looked toward the mountains beyond the lake. "It is spectacular, isn't it?"
Ray's eyes hadn't left Fraser's profile. "It is."
Fraser started down the hill toward the lake and path back towards town.
Dief came bounding back to them. The wolf had a grin a mile wide on his muzzle and a smell that explained the term 'run like stink.' "Good God, Diefenbaker, what have you gotten into now?" Fraser's nose wrinkled. "Ah. Deadfall."
As opposed to fallen dead creatures, Ray reflected. Dead creatures would mean paperwork for both of them: for Fraser, it'd mean paperwork to file with the game warden, and for Ray, the paperwork would be for the WWF. They had a local grant head-counting game and wildlife, and both men had concluded Ray's was more headache than Fraser's: the WWF rejected anything not composed on recycled paper.
Dief shook himself off and barreled off to roll in the snow.
"How bad was it this time, anyway?" Ray asked. Fraser had spent the better part of the last week tracking down the whereabouts of an illegal duck-hunting party and their unlicensed guide. They’d started walking together to regroup after Fraser got home from one of these outings. It also gave them enough time out of the duplex to allow the sheets to finish the laundry cycle.
"No worse than the usual. A Torontan, a delirious tool & die maker, and two of your fellow Americans."
"Hey!" Ray objected. "I got better."
"You're pining for the fjords?" Fraser muttered.
Ray didn’t grin or look at Fraser. "No. That'd be if I had gone down and joined the choir invisible. I'd be pushing up the daisies if you hadn't nailed me to the perch." He circumnavigated a rock. "'I got better' means I got turned into a newt."
"Ah."
They hiked on for another ten minutes or so before coming to a logging road. Ray stopped in the middle of the road to stare at the 10-foot wide strip of fresh fall. Fraser's hiking boots made a 'crunch' sound as he stepped through the crust of the drift on the other side of the road. Ray stayed behind, just looking at the snow. He heard Fraser walk on some, then the distinctive creak of the rubber soles turning and walking back.
Dief bounding through the brush was louder and faster than his human's footsteps. The wolf's nose found its way into Ray's hand and shoved. Ray looked down and yanked his hand back: Dief's snout was covered in mud and God knew what else. "Euchhh."
"Dief..." Fraser's voice sounded as if he were at the end of his rope. "It's late and we've had a long week. Kindly desist from using Ray as a walking towel rack."
Ray grinned and wiped his hand off on his own Polarfleece-lined jeans.
"S'okay, Frase. I've had worse on 'em."
"Worse than elk spoor? I find that unlikely."
"Heck, I'm still wondering what the hell kind of luck I had to have to buy Holstein plates. I mean, what kind of store only has one set of plates?"
"Apparently wherever you were shopping." Fraser stopped and looked over his shoulder at Ray, who began walking toward him again. "Where -were- you shopping, anyway?"
"The Dollar Store." Fraser looked puzzled, and Ray added, "Stella hadn't decided about alimony yet."
Fraser still looked puzzled.
Ray sighed, shouldered past Fraser, and kept going back toward Ft. Colville. "See, the undercover stuff I started so she wouldn't have to take out so many loans for law school. But when she was done, I was still doing undercover stuff. And the time counts double for your pension, plus the money is better, too. A lot better. You get paid your pay and the pay for the guy you're under cover as. Or something. So when she joined the prosecutor's office, she was making money, but not as much as she wanted. She was talking about alimony for a while." Ray found himself marching along in some kind of determined death-march-like step, hauling himself back to civilization like he had a ton of granite on a travois behind him, and he wondered why it had been so much easier last year.
When they had first left Frobisher's post, Ray had known who he was going with: he was going with Fraser. He’d known what he was doing: going on an adventure, just like Fraser'd promised. Fraser, Ray figured, was Ray's compass. And like any good compass, Ray figured he could rely on Fraser to point him in the right direction.
Their voyage into the wilderness was a learning experience for Ray in many ways. First, Ray didn't really know who Fraser was going with, even though, just then, he didn't much care. He figured he'd figure it out, and once he figured it out, he could let Fraser know. If he couldn't figure it out, Fraser might be able to point him in the right direction there too.
Fraser'd already taken a bearing on Ray, after all, way back in that crypt, waiting for Ellery. Ray'd spent a lot of time reading in Ft. Colville, Fraser's new station, in the summer and fall since their quest.
He'd said later it was like something out of 'The Tempest.' Fraser’d laughed and agreed with him, and later on, when they were watching shooting stars one night, had started to tell Ray that the quote was actually associated with something that Ray never heard, but Ray never did find out what because he shut Fraser up with a kiss.
But the point was that Ray had found his own compass somewhere in there.
Second, city-smart cop that Ray was, he didn't know that when you go far enough north, your compass takes you due south.
Ray learned this when an unusual cold snap hit during their quest's first few weeks. Ray and Fraser had bundled all the dogs into the tent with them and zipped their sleeping bags together.
Shortly thereafter, they started kicking the dogs out at night so they didn't have unwanted company - or suggestions.
Snow slid off of a tree onto Fraser's hat with a soft thud. He shook his head to clear it off of the brim, and Ray saw it slide under his collar. "Blast," he muttered, brushing at the snow and damp. "Erk."
"Mmm?" Ray looked over and smiled. "Gotta watch out for those trees, Mountie. Know how they love to eat them some Mountie."
"Very funny."
"Yep." Ray watched Fraser squirm and guessed that some of the snow’d found its way down Fraser’s back. "Here. Let me." He brushed the remnants of the snow off the brim of Fraser's hat, then brushed more off Fraser's shoulders and back, and spent an inordinate amount of time brushing the non-existent snow off Fraser's hips.
Normally Fraser and Ray would have turned back toward town about here. They'd hike for about half an hour, then turn around. Going any further, Ray had discovered, would reduce the likelihood that he could coax Fraser back to bed when they got back into town. So Fraser had automatically turned left and east toward their rented half duplex and town, hiking about ten paces before apparently realizing that Ray was not following.
Ray was looking at the right-hand fork of the path, the one that led toward the provincial park access road. The road was, if anything, narrower than the logging road they had just crossed. It led to the parking area for the provincial park, and, even at the height of tourist season, was fairly deserted. After more than one run-in with not-so-smart tourists, Ray still wanted to know why that didn't mean they could hunt the tourists -- after all, you could hunt wolf any time -and- with just a license for coyote.
"Ray?" Fraser's voice sounded quiet in the stillness.
"Yeah."
"Are you ruminating on the holes in the defensive lineup of the Oilers, or is there something holding your interest in that..." Fraser looked up at the tree, "birch?"
"Mmm." Ray looked at Fraser, and jerked his head toward the right-hand path. "Let's go this way. Just for a change. We got the time. Haven't been this way since October."
"That'd be the same October trip when you fell in the lake?"
"That's the one." Ray stepped up the trail where it led to the road from town and promptly sunk down about two feet. "Fuck!"
"Ray?"
Ray stood thigh deep in bog. "I'm fine. I'm going to be frozen when we get home, but I'm fine." His voice had a gravelly edge that gave away his uncertainty. He'd fallen in muskegs before. So had Fraser. Usually, though, they (a) fell in them in summertime and (b) had transportation available. Transportation other than 'hike for an hour back into town and hope you still have all your toes.'
Ray tried not to panic while Fraser trampled down snow until he had a firm planche to stand on. He planted his feet on the solid snow pack and took Ray's arm. "Ready?" Ray nodded, and Fraser pulled. Progress was accomplished: Ray could see his knees. "Did you double tie your boots?"
"'Course I did." Ray's voice went up a little. The first time he'd fallen in a muskeg, he'd lost his sneakers.
"Good. Ready?"
"Ready."
Fraser flexed his thighs and pulled again. Ray burst free with a 'Thwwwwopp-ploonk' noise. The sudden loss of resistance sent Fraser and Ray both stumbling: Ray fell on top of Fraser. Fraser stepped back a pace or two, banged into a tree, tripped over a log, and fell flat on his back.
Dief came bounding over, still stinking of elk spoor, to lick Fraser in the face and make sure his human was still alive. Fraser made a face, but made no move to stop Dief. "Ow."
"Fuck, yeah." Ray echoed Fraser's sentiments. "You okay?"
"Um. Not really."
"Me, neither. Just cold and wet, but..."
"But that's enough."
"Yeah."
"As for me, I appear to have landed on a chunk of quartzite. Just about where Ray Vecchio's bullet entered."
"Ow."
"Yes."
Ray started to laugh. "So. Uhm. I probably should have said something before I hauled us all the way out here." He made an experimental stab at standing up, using the tree branches for leverage. Since the attempt did not send him flying through the air to land on his ass, Ray considered this progress.
"Said something?" Ben asked. Ray had finally managed to stand up. He held on to a tree, held his other hand out to Ben, and helped pull him to a sitting position.
"Yeah. Um. You remember that cabin?"
Fraser flushed crimson. Ray guessed that Fraser did remember the cabin. In October, the hike after Ray’d fallen into the lake, they’d been caught out by a sudden thunderstorm. They had waited out the downpour in a cabin off the access road. The owners had stocked it with a basic stash of emergency gear, including a couple of Hudson's Bay Company blankets. Ray and Fraser had made love on the floor between those blankets while the thunder echoed off the mountains and the cabin was illuminated by flashes of lightning.
"I think it is safe to say I recollect the cabin, yes."
"Okay. Good. I." Ray took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and spit it out. "Iboughtitforusit'soursandIwastakingusthereforthenight."
Fraser and Dief looked at him like he had sprouted an extra arm and reins. After a long moment, Fraser finally said, "Say that again?"
"I bought it. For us. It's ours. I was t-t-t-t-taking us..." Ray stuttered as he started to shiver. He crossed his arms across his chest and tucked his hands under his arms.
The next thing he knew, Fraser was stripping off his parka and tugging off Ray's. He hung the coats on a branch, pulled his outer sweater off, pulled it over Ray's head, and re-bundled Ray into his parka before pulling on his own again. "Better?"
Ray nodded, shivers starting to ease a little.
Fraser smiled. "Then let's be about it."
"I knew letting you read Honor Harrington was a bad idea." Ray shoved his hands into his parka's pockets and started hiking again. The 'schloop' sound his boots made with every step made him feel vaguely ill. Then again, that might have been the way his legs shivered and shook as he walked.
The cabin was only about ten minutes' hike from the muskeg Ray had discovered. The driveway leading up to the cabin from the access road had been plowed at least once: the snow pack was lower than the woods' on either side, with tire tracks running up it. The snow had filled them in, creating U-shaped white channels that led up a hill and around a bend. The cabin stood in a small clearing at the top of the drive. A new-looking gas tank stood on the edge of the clearing, and a generator stood off to the side of the cabin against the wall. Like the drive, a path to the door was cleared and had filled partway in with newer snow.
Ray didn't think he'd ever spent $3000 more sensibly in his life. He wished he'd gone for the extra $150 for the programmable thermostat. Actually, he wished he'd gone for the extra $1500 for the above ground hot tub.
Fraser was still talking as Ray got to the front door and fumbled at the handle with his thick gloves.
"We should go back in the morning and stake out a warning line," Fraser said as Ray pushed the door open. "It's right in the middle of the..." He stopped in mid-sentence when he stepped through the door.
The main room of the cabin was much like any other cabin: the center of the room was dominated by a wood-burning stove, the kitchen was to the right of the door, and the living room to the left. There were a lot of bookshelves on the walls. Ray had already moved most of his books in, but plenty of space remained for Fraser's. The couch was wide and comfortable, and Ray had put a Hudson’s Bay Company blanket on the back of it, and a photo on the table near the inner wall.
Diefenbaker stopped frolicking in the clearing long enough to come in. Nose to the floor, he circled the front room once, shook the loose snow off of his coat in the middle of the kitchen, and found the blanket and water bowl Ray had put for him under the kitchen window. He turned around on the blanket three times, laid down, covered his nose with his tail, and closed his eyes with a soft, content sounding 'grfff.'
The first thing Fraser touched was the picture on the end table. It was the one of his family that he had received in Chicago before they came home. Ray was pretty proud of having kept Fraser so distracted that he hadn’t noticed it was missing in town. While Fraser rubbed his thumb over the frame, Ray went right to the wood-burning stove, pulled off his gloves, lit a piece of fatwood and started the fire. He pulled the inner screen closed but left the doors open.
Fraser came over to Ray's side and set the picture of his family down on the mantel above them. "The fireplace will come in handy," he said.
Ray looked up and grinned. "I'll have you know it's a wood-burning stove, top of the line and latest design." He shivered again. He always began to rhyme when he was getting close to hypothermia. "I splurged."
"You're shivering."
"It's December."
"And you fell in a muskeg." Fraser pulled Ray to his feet. "I still like the fireplace." He tugged their gloves off and put them on the wrought iron frames on top of the stove. "Gloves and hats," he pulled off Ray's hat, "and scarves all dry better on fireplaces than in dryers."
"We- we- we've got," Ray shivered again as Fraser stripped off their coats and wrapped Ray in the blanket from the couch. Ray sat down on the hearth carpet suddenly and watched Fraser hang their coats by the door. His legs no longer seemed to want to work and his boots still schloorped when he moved. "We've got one of those too."
"A dryer? Good." Fraser was taking off his boots by the front door. Then he came back, sat down next to Ray on the rug, pulled Ray's left boot into his lap and started unlacing it. "Fire gives your skin a tawny sheen." He stripped off Ray's other boot and then tugged the socks off. "And socks dry better in front of fireplaces than in dryers too." He wrapped his hands around Ray's feet, and Ray knew that he checking for frostbite. Then Fraser looked at Ray, and his tongue caressed his lower lip. He nodded at the loaded bookshelf and furnishings and asked, "How many trips?"
"Mmm, just two. One with the stuff, the furniture and all, one with the... well, with the stuff. You know, the perishables." Ray squirmed as Fraser stripped off his flannel shirt and wrapped it around Ray's feet, then rubbed Ray’s feet through the fabric.
"And a change of clothes?" Fraser asked. Ray nodded as Fraser stripped off his inner sweater and set it beside him on the floor. Fraser ran his hands up Ray's legs. The damp Polarfleece lining got tangled in Ray's longjohns and Ray squirmed, trying to get away from the sensation. "And a gas delivery?" Fraser asked, his fingers at Ray's fly.
Ray nodded again, and shivered again as Fraser stripped the damp, smelly denim off. Fraser tossed the jeans toward the mud tray by the door. Ray pulled the blanket more closely around his shoulders and rubbed his hands together in front of fireplace. "Too civilized, I know. Sorry."
Fraser looked at Ray sharply. His tongue caressed his lower lip again and he shook his head. "It's fine." He turned Ray around on the rug and pulled Ray to his chest, nestling him between his legs, his hand stroking Ray's arms and chest. He rested his head on Ray's shoulder. "It's better than fine." Fraser nibbled on Ray's neck just above the edge of Ray's thermal turtleneck. "It's home."
Notes: Special thanks go to the betas and hand holders who kept me sane while I was doing this. They are, (alphabetically), aukestrel (who suggested I throw Ray into the muskeg), dkwilliams, gryphonrhi, , kijikun, miriel, mondschein1, and wenchita.
Particular references for the bits about the unlicensed guides and the people who do stupid ass hunting things can be found at this spectacularly useful and amusing site. Be sure to put down your drink before you go to it, 'cause the stupid human tricks are downright hysterical.
Magnetic Variation
For Riverlight
By Shrewreader
Genre: F/K post COTW
Rating: PG-13-R-ish
Ray Kowalski stopped on Two Lakes Trail and wondered if he was perverted. It really couldn't be normal for someone to be turned on just by watching Fraser hike ahead of him. Polarfleece-lined jeans didn't quite hug Fraser's butt the way plain denim did in the summer, but the sight was still enough to take Ray's breath away. At least, he thought it was the sight. It could, he admitted, be the wind chill of zero.
Fraser stopped and turned. "Ray?" The sun shone from right behind his head. He looked like a silhouette for a RCMP recruiting poster.
"Your hat's gonna blow off again," Ray said, leaning on a tree for a moment.
"Need a minute?" Early on, Ray had needed breaks to catch his breath.
Ft. Colville was about 5,000 feet higher than Chicago had been.
Ray shook his head. "Nah. Just admiring the view."
Fraser looked toward the mountains beyond the lake. "It is spectacular, isn't it?"
Ray's eyes hadn't left Fraser's profile. "It is."
Fraser started down the hill toward the lake and path back towards town.
Dief came bounding back to them. The wolf had a grin a mile wide on his muzzle and a smell that explained the term 'run like stink.' "Good God, Diefenbaker, what have you gotten into now?" Fraser's nose wrinkled. "Ah. Deadfall."
As opposed to fallen dead creatures, Ray reflected. Dead creatures would mean paperwork for both of them: for Fraser, it'd mean paperwork to file with the game warden, and for Ray, the paperwork would be for the WWF. They had a local grant head-counting game and wildlife, and both men had concluded Ray's was more headache than Fraser's: the WWF rejected anything not composed on recycled paper.
Dief shook himself off and barreled off to roll in the snow.
"How bad was it this time, anyway?" Ray asked. Fraser had spent the better part of the last week tracking down the whereabouts of an illegal duck-hunting party and their unlicensed guide. They’d started walking together to regroup after Fraser got home from one of these outings. It also gave them enough time out of the duplex to allow the sheets to finish the laundry cycle.
"No worse than the usual. A Torontan, a delirious tool & die maker, and two of your fellow Americans."
"Hey!" Ray objected. "I got better."
"You're pining for the fjords?" Fraser muttered.
Ray didn’t grin or look at Fraser. "No. That'd be if I had gone down and joined the choir invisible. I'd be pushing up the daisies if you hadn't nailed me to the perch." He circumnavigated a rock. "'I got better' means I got turned into a newt."
"Ah."
They hiked on for another ten minutes or so before coming to a logging road. Ray stopped in the middle of the road to stare at the 10-foot wide strip of fresh fall. Fraser's hiking boots made a 'crunch' sound as he stepped through the crust of the drift on the other side of the road. Ray stayed behind, just looking at the snow. He heard Fraser walk on some, then the distinctive creak of the rubber soles turning and walking back.
Dief bounding through the brush was louder and faster than his human's footsteps. The wolf's nose found its way into Ray's hand and shoved. Ray looked down and yanked his hand back: Dief's snout was covered in mud and God knew what else. "Euchhh."
"Dief..." Fraser's voice sounded as if he were at the end of his rope. "It's late and we've had a long week. Kindly desist from using Ray as a walking towel rack."
Ray grinned and wiped his hand off on his own Polarfleece-lined jeans.
"S'okay, Frase. I've had worse on 'em."
"Worse than elk spoor? I find that unlikely."
"Heck, I'm still wondering what the hell kind of luck I had to have to buy Holstein plates. I mean, what kind of store only has one set of plates?"
"Apparently wherever you were shopping." Fraser stopped and looked over his shoulder at Ray, who began walking toward him again. "Where -were- you shopping, anyway?"
"The Dollar Store." Fraser looked puzzled, and Ray added, "Stella hadn't decided about alimony yet."
Fraser still looked puzzled.
Ray sighed, shouldered past Fraser, and kept going back toward Ft. Colville. "See, the undercover stuff I started so she wouldn't have to take out so many loans for law school. But when she was done, I was still doing undercover stuff. And the time counts double for your pension, plus the money is better, too. A lot better. You get paid your pay and the pay for the guy you're under cover as. Or something. So when she joined the prosecutor's office, she was making money, but not as much as she wanted. She was talking about alimony for a while." Ray found himself marching along in some kind of determined death-march-like step, hauling himself back to civilization like he had a ton of granite on a travois behind him, and he wondered why it had been so much easier last year.
When they had first left Frobisher's post, Ray had known who he was going with: he was going with Fraser. He’d known what he was doing: going on an adventure, just like Fraser'd promised. Fraser, Ray figured, was Ray's compass. And like any good compass, Ray figured he could rely on Fraser to point him in the right direction.
Their voyage into the wilderness was a learning experience for Ray in many ways. First, Ray didn't really know who Fraser was going with, even though, just then, he didn't much care. He figured he'd figure it out, and once he figured it out, he could let Fraser know. If he couldn't figure it out, Fraser might be able to point him in the right direction there too.
Fraser'd already taken a bearing on Ray, after all, way back in that crypt, waiting for Ellery. Ray'd spent a lot of time reading in Ft. Colville, Fraser's new station, in the summer and fall since their quest.
He'd said later it was like something out of 'The Tempest.' Fraser’d laughed and agreed with him, and later on, when they were watching shooting stars one night, had started to tell Ray that the quote was actually associated with something that Ray never heard, but Ray never did find out what because he shut Fraser up with a kiss.
But the point was that Ray had found his own compass somewhere in there.
Second, city-smart cop that Ray was, he didn't know that when you go far enough north, your compass takes you due south.
Ray learned this when an unusual cold snap hit during their quest's first few weeks. Ray and Fraser had bundled all the dogs into the tent with them and zipped their sleeping bags together.
Shortly thereafter, they started kicking the dogs out at night so they didn't have unwanted company - or suggestions.
Snow slid off of a tree onto Fraser's hat with a soft thud. He shook his head to clear it off of the brim, and Ray saw it slide under his collar. "Blast," he muttered, brushing at the snow and damp. "Erk."
"Mmm?" Ray looked over and smiled. "Gotta watch out for those trees, Mountie. Know how they love to eat them some Mountie."
"Very funny."
"Yep." Ray watched Fraser squirm and guessed that some of the snow’d found its way down Fraser’s back. "Here. Let me." He brushed the remnants of the snow off the brim of Fraser's hat, then brushed more off Fraser's shoulders and back, and spent an inordinate amount of time brushing the non-existent snow off Fraser's hips.
Normally Fraser and Ray would have turned back toward town about here. They'd hike for about half an hour, then turn around. Going any further, Ray had discovered, would reduce the likelihood that he could coax Fraser back to bed when they got back into town. So Fraser had automatically turned left and east toward their rented half duplex and town, hiking about ten paces before apparently realizing that Ray was not following.
Ray was looking at the right-hand fork of the path, the one that led toward the provincial park access road. The road was, if anything, narrower than the logging road they had just crossed. It led to the parking area for the provincial park, and, even at the height of tourist season, was fairly deserted. After more than one run-in with not-so-smart tourists, Ray still wanted to know why that didn't mean they could hunt the tourists -- after all, you could hunt wolf any time -and- with just a license for coyote.
"Ray?" Fraser's voice sounded quiet in the stillness.
"Yeah."
"Are you ruminating on the holes in the defensive lineup of the Oilers, or is there something holding your interest in that..." Fraser looked up at the tree, "birch?"
"Mmm." Ray looked at Fraser, and jerked his head toward the right-hand path. "Let's go this way. Just for a change. We got the time. Haven't been this way since October."
"That'd be the same October trip when you fell in the lake?"
"That's the one." Ray stepped up the trail where it led to the road from town and promptly sunk down about two feet. "Fuck!"
"Ray?"
Ray stood thigh deep in bog. "I'm fine. I'm going to be frozen when we get home, but I'm fine." His voice had a gravelly edge that gave away his uncertainty. He'd fallen in muskegs before. So had Fraser. Usually, though, they (a) fell in them in summertime and (b) had transportation available. Transportation other than 'hike for an hour back into town and hope you still have all your toes.'
Ray tried not to panic while Fraser trampled down snow until he had a firm planche to stand on. He planted his feet on the solid snow pack and took Ray's arm. "Ready?" Ray nodded, and Fraser pulled. Progress was accomplished: Ray could see his knees. "Did you double tie your boots?"
"'Course I did." Ray's voice went up a little. The first time he'd fallen in a muskeg, he'd lost his sneakers.
"Good. Ready?"
"Ready."
Fraser flexed his thighs and pulled again. Ray burst free with a 'Thwwwwopp-ploonk' noise. The sudden loss of resistance sent Fraser and Ray both stumbling: Ray fell on top of Fraser. Fraser stepped back a pace or two, banged into a tree, tripped over a log, and fell flat on his back.
Dief came bounding over, still stinking of elk spoor, to lick Fraser in the face and make sure his human was still alive. Fraser made a face, but made no move to stop Dief. "Ow."
"Fuck, yeah." Ray echoed Fraser's sentiments. "You okay?"
"Um. Not really."
"Me, neither. Just cold and wet, but..."
"But that's enough."
"Yeah."
"As for me, I appear to have landed on a chunk of quartzite. Just about where Ray Vecchio's bullet entered."
"Ow."
"Yes."
Ray started to laugh. "So. Uhm. I probably should have said something before I hauled us all the way out here." He made an experimental stab at standing up, using the tree branches for leverage. Since the attempt did not send him flying through the air to land on his ass, Ray considered this progress.
"Said something?" Ben asked. Ray had finally managed to stand up. He held on to a tree, held his other hand out to Ben, and helped pull him to a sitting position.
"Yeah. Um. You remember that cabin?"
Fraser flushed crimson. Ray guessed that Fraser did remember the cabin. In October, the hike after Ray’d fallen into the lake, they’d been caught out by a sudden thunderstorm. They had waited out the downpour in a cabin off the access road. The owners had stocked it with a basic stash of emergency gear, including a couple of Hudson's Bay Company blankets. Ray and Fraser had made love on the floor between those blankets while the thunder echoed off the mountains and the cabin was illuminated by flashes of lightning.
"I think it is safe to say I recollect the cabin, yes."
"Okay. Good. I." Ray took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and spit it out. "Iboughtitforusit'soursandIwastakingusthereforthenight."
Fraser and Dief looked at him like he had sprouted an extra arm and reins. After a long moment, Fraser finally said, "Say that again?"
"I bought it. For us. It's ours. I was t-t-t-t-taking us..." Ray stuttered as he started to shiver. He crossed his arms across his chest and tucked his hands under his arms.
The next thing he knew, Fraser was stripping off his parka and tugging off Ray's. He hung the coats on a branch, pulled his outer sweater off, pulled it over Ray's head, and re-bundled Ray into his parka before pulling on his own again. "Better?"
Ray nodded, shivers starting to ease a little.
Fraser smiled. "Then let's be about it."
"I knew letting you read Honor Harrington was a bad idea." Ray shoved his hands into his parka's pockets and started hiking again. The 'schloop' sound his boots made with every step made him feel vaguely ill. Then again, that might have been the way his legs shivered and shook as he walked.
The cabin was only about ten minutes' hike from the muskeg Ray had discovered. The driveway leading up to the cabin from the access road had been plowed at least once: the snow pack was lower than the woods' on either side, with tire tracks running up it. The snow had filled them in, creating U-shaped white channels that led up a hill and around a bend. The cabin stood in a small clearing at the top of the drive. A new-looking gas tank stood on the edge of the clearing, and a generator stood off to the side of the cabin against the wall. Like the drive, a path to the door was cleared and had filled partway in with newer snow.
Ray didn't think he'd ever spent $3000 more sensibly in his life. He wished he'd gone for the extra $150 for the programmable thermostat. Actually, he wished he'd gone for the extra $1500 for the above ground hot tub.
Fraser was still talking as Ray got to the front door and fumbled at the handle with his thick gloves.
"We should go back in the morning and stake out a warning line," Fraser said as Ray pushed the door open. "It's right in the middle of the..." He stopped in mid-sentence when he stepped through the door.
The main room of the cabin was much like any other cabin: the center of the room was dominated by a wood-burning stove, the kitchen was to the right of the door, and the living room to the left. There were a lot of bookshelves on the walls. Ray had already moved most of his books in, but plenty of space remained for Fraser's. The couch was wide and comfortable, and Ray had put a Hudson’s Bay Company blanket on the back of it, and a photo on the table near the inner wall.
Diefenbaker stopped frolicking in the clearing long enough to come in. Nose to the floor, he circled the front room once, shook the loose snow off of his coat in the middle of the kitchen, and found the blanket and water bowl Ray had put for him under the kitchen window. He turned around on the blanket three times, laid down, covered his nose with his tail, and closed his eyes with a soft, content sounding 'grfff.'
The first thing Fraser touched was the picture on the end table. It was the one of his family that he had received in Chicago before they came home. Ray was pretty proud of having kept Fraser so distracted that he hadn’t noticed it was missing in town. While Fraser rubbed his thumb over the frame, Ray went right to the wood-burning stove, pulled off his gloves, lit a piece of fatwood and started the fire. He pulled the inner screen closed but left the doors open.
Fraser came over to Ray's side and set the picture of his family down on the mantel above them. "The fireplace will come in handy," he said.
Ray looked up and grinned. "I'll have you know it's a wood-burning stove, top of the line and latest design." He shivered again. He always began to rhyme when he was getting close to hypothermia. "I splurged."
"You're shivering."
"It's December."
"And you fell in a muskeg." Fraser pulled Ray to his feet. "I still like the fireplace." He tugged their gloves off and put them on the wrought iron frames on top of the stove. "Gloves and hats," he pulled off Ray's hat, "and scarves all dry better on fireplaces than in dryers."
"We- we- we've got," Ray shivered again as Fraser stripped off their coats and wrapped Ray in the blanket from the couch. Ray sat down on the hearth carpet suddenly and watched Fraser hang their coats by the door. His legs no longer seemed to want to work and his boots still schloorped when he moved. "We've got one of those too."
"A dryer? Good." Fraser was taking off his boots by the front door. Then he came back, sat down next to Ray on the rug, pulled Ray's left boot into his lap and started unlacing it. "Fire gives your skin a tawny sheen." He stripped off Ray's other boot and then tugged the socks off. "And socks dry better in front of fireplaces than in dryers too." He wrapped his hands around Ray's feet, and Ray knew that he checking for frostbite. Then Fraser looked at Ray, and his tongue caressed his lower lip. He nodded at the loaded bookshelf and furnishings and asked, "How many trips?"
"Mmm, just two. One with the stuff, the furniture and all, one with the... well, with the stuff. You know, the perishables." Ray squirmed as Fraser stripped off his flannel shirt and wrapped it around Ray's feet, then rubbed Ray’s feet through the fabric.
"And a change of clothes?" Fraser asked. Ray nodded as Fraser stripped off his inner sweater and set it beside him on the floor. Fraser ran his hands up Ray's legs. The damp Polarfleece lining got tangled in Ray's longjohns and Ray squirmed, trying to get away from the sensation. "And a gas delivery?" Fraser asked, his fingers at Ray's fly.
Ray nodded again, and shivered again as Fraser stripped the damp, smelly denim off. Fraser tossed the jeans toward the mud tray by the door. Ray pulled the blanket more closely around his shoulders and rubbed his hands together in front of fireplace. "Too civilized, I know. Sorry."
Fraser looked at Ray sharply. His tongue caressed his lower lip again and he shook his head. "It's fine." He turned Ray around on the rug and pulled Ray to his chest, nestling him between his legs, his hand stroking Ray's arms and chest. He rested his head on Ray's shoulder. "It's better than fine." Fraser nibbled on Ray's neck just above the edge of Ray's thermal turtleneck. "It's home."