DS Holiday part: #22 for the_antichris, by shoemaster

Dec 22, 2006 19:48

Rating: PG?
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Prompt: 22 F/K -"This isn't what I expected."
Summary: Uh, there are references to midgets little people, but they don't actually make an appearence.

Thanks to deathbytamarind and shihadachick for the last minute beta.

"Well, this isn't what I expected."

"Of course it's unexpected. Who expects to get kidnapped by a mob of rampaging midgets while out Christmas shopping?"

"Little people, Ray."

"Little people, what, Fraser?"

"The correct term is little people, not midget. The same way the term Inuit is preferred over Eskimo."

"I'm tied up in a warehouse filled with...weeds and bells, I still haven't gotten anything for my mum and you care what I call the freaks that put us here?" Ray said, thumping his bound feet in front of him, in an attempt to maneuver himself closer to Fraser.

"Well, it wouldn't do to antagonize them further.”

"I didn't even antagonize them in the first place!" Ray insisted.

"Well imagine how they'd react if you actually put some effort into it," Fraser said logically.

Ray was silent for a moment. "This is your fault."

Fraser looked over at him, incredulous. "My fault?"

"I never had a problem with the vertically challenged before I met you."

"Well I'm not blaming you and I never had a problem with little people either, Ray, until I became your partner," he paused. "Actually there was once-"

"See! Your fault."

"Really, Ray, it was just an unfortunate coincidence that we got caught up in their protest, and that you happened to be wearing that hat at the time. I think it was the ears that set them off."

"I wouldn't have even been wearing that hat if you hadn't said it looked… you know."

"Fetching?" Fraser offered.

“Yeah, that.” Ray shrugged as best he could, with his hands duct taped behind his back.

“Hm,” Fraser said, looking at him curiously.

“Hm? Hm, what? Hm, you know how to get out of this mess?” Ray demanded, the questions coming in quick succession.

He waited, but Fraser didn’t respond; it looked like he’d zoned out, staring at something on Ray’s face. “Fraser, pay attention!”

He blinked, coming back to himself, “I’m sorry, Ray, what were you saying?”

“Do you have any ideas how to get us out of here? Or are they going to find our rotting corpses sometime next year?”

“I haven’t been able to find purchase on my own bindings, but perhaps if you lie down, on your stomach--yes, like that--I can remove yours.”

Ray craned his neck over his shoulder to watch as Fraser scooted across the cement floor. “I hope this works, 'cause I’m not sure I’ll be able to get up without my hands.”

“I shall endeavor to free you quickly.”

“How are you gonna do it, anyway? You got a knife up your sleeve or something?”

“Certainly not, that would be extremely dangerous, not to mention illegal. I’m going to use my teeth.”

With that, Fraser bent his torso over Ray’s prone form, positioning his mouth above Ray’s wrists.

“Your teeth, like…Okay, yeah, that’d be a mouth,” Ray was trying very hard not to focus on the breaths of hot air that brushed against the soft skin of his under arm. “So. Uh, fetching? Where’d they come up with that word anyway? Is it like playing fetch with Dief? See somebody looking fetching and you want to throw a stick at ‘em? Or maybe chase them into the bushes…”

Ray was blithering, but Fraser didn’t have the heart to tell him so, and his mouth was rather occupied at the moment. His tongue couldn’t help but trace a short path under the line of the duct tape, taking in the slightly sour taste of Ray’s sweat, and the metallic tang of his bracelet. He could feel the quick fire beat of Ray’s pulse under his lip while his teeth grasped at the silver tape. It took a few tries, but the duct tape slowly began to separate, until finally Ray was able to pull his hands apart and sit up.

“What was that, Fraser?” he asked, face flushed.

“I was releasing you from the bonds imposed on you by the mob of little people.” Fraser desperately wanted to rub at his eyebrow, but his hands were still trapped behind his back. “If you would be so kind as to reciprocate.”

“And the making out with my wrist thing?”

Oh dear. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ray muttered, tugging at the tape around his ankles.

“Ray, if you please,” Fraser jerked his shoulders insistently.

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses.”

Fraser waited while Ray pat down his pockets, pulling out a keychain with a small pocket knife attached.

Something of Ray’s surliness put a bit of the devil into Fraser as he asked, “Did you have something against my method, Ray?”

Ray looked away from the pocket knife, “It worked well enough, I guess.”

“You have the use of both of your hands, don’t you? I managed without the use of an external aid.”

“Are you implying something, Fraser? You don’t think I could get you out of that with my teeth? Just because they’re American or something? That’s prejudice.”

“Now, Ray.”

“No. Wrists out.”

Fraser did his best to offer his hands over to Ray, who seemed set on duplicating Fraser’s earlier actions. Surely now he’d see that it’s exceedingly difficult to control one’s lips and tongue entirely.

Ray’s mouth slipped once, down onto the rough skin of Fraser’s hands. The calluses didn’t really fit with the ‘like something off a Christmas tree’ duds, but Ray had seen the guy in jeans, flannel and leather, the calluses fit him then. They also happened to have the unfortunate tendency of catching Ray’s bottom lip as his teeth pulled at the edge of the tape. He could feel a tingling sensation building in his fingertips, most likely they were numb from lack of circulation and Fraser tried to hide the shiver that ran down his spine, but it obviously didn’t work, as Ray pulled away. Fraser quickly tamped down on the disappointment.

“Oh, fuck it.” Ray pulled out the pocket knife once more, swiftly cutting through the tape and peeling it from Fraser’s wrists before yanking him to his feet.

The feet that were still bound at the ankles.

All Frasers had excellent balance, but there was very little he could do about the present situation, other than reach out to Ray in an attempt to stabilize himself, but it was too late. His unsteady footing sent them both falling back, well, forward in Ray’s case, into the crates of Phoradendron, their combined weight breaking easily through the wooden slats, sending the plants flying everywhere.

“Well that was unfortunate.”

“Real smooth,” Ray agreed, pushing himself up off of Fraser, their chests now inches apart. “What is this stuff, anyway?”

“Phoradendron.”

“Looks like mistletoe, to me,” Ray said, glancing at the sprig that had landed on Fraser’s forehead.

“That is a common name for it, yes.”

“It’s bad luck you know.”

“What is?” Fraser was used to Ray’s tendency to only give him half of a thought to work with.

“Not following the rules of mistletoe,” Ray shifted nervously as he spoke.

“Ray?”

“Yeah, Fraser?”

“I think we have quite our share of bad luck already, don’t you think?”

Ray’s face split into a smile. “Exactly my point, partner.”

Ray lowered himself back down onto Fraser’s chest, holding his mouth a hairsbreadth away from Fraser’s. He wasn’t sure whose heart was hammering against his ribs, but he figured it was okay, so long as neither of them stroked out.

“Ray,” Fraser said softly.

His lips skimmed over Ray’s lightly, his tongue dodging out to wet Ray’s chapped lips as their noses knocked together, and Ray pulled away just to adjust the trajectory, but Fraser looked a bit skittish.

“Is that, ah, I mean, do you think-”

“That’s maybe good for the leaf over there in the corner, but you’ve got a whole crate of the stuff above you, Frase.”

“Ah, so I do.”

And an icon for you, Chris, even if it's not the one you asked for (yet)
Merry Christmas!

holiday party 2006

Previous post Next post
Up