Due South Fic: Coffee
Just a little snippet. I've finally gotten around to posting. The ever gorgeous tx_tart had a look at this for me and gave me some much needed correction. Thanks, darl. I appreciate it. Any errors or suckiness is entirely me. This is really the first thing I've written in ages. And it took me ages to fix it and post.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money. Just thankful that they were given to me to play with.
Coffee
There's something about a cup of coffee...that first sip of a fresh brew that just...well, you know all's right with the world. And then Fraser walks out of our room and fuck it, I know all's right with the world.
Fraser's so perfect. He's pristine. The fact that I'm even thinking the word goes a long way to prove my point. He's a good influence. Heh, well really, even now, he gets me into more trouble - but he's the sort of person that just makes you want to be good too. So I do my best. Funnily enough, it works. I'm well liked here. I'm even, you know, popular. It's a kick to the head, I'll tell you.
So. Here I am. In Canada of all fucking places, drinking my first cup of coffee of the day, watching Fraser finish getting ready for his shift. My life really is hard.
Do you wanna know what the funny thing is? He sleeps in. I have to wake him. Yes sir. I'm the one getting up early now. As he's gotten older, he likes to spend more time in bed. I like to say I'm responsible for that. Hey, it reflects well on me. Not that he's ever late. I just have to get him out of bed now. It used to be me that had to be pried out of bed with a crowbar...Fraser's become more like me! Not that we look alike. Thank God. I know I'm no superstar, but hey, in my lifetime, I've managed to snag two of the most beautiful people I've known.
First Stella, and now Fraser. Jesus, we're coming up to ten years now. We're both well past 40, and let's be honest, it's obvious, but fuck, it's still good.
I gave up everything to be with him. My career, Chicago, everything. To follow Fraser as we searched for that Hand of Franklin. We didn't find it. Still, it's not that much of a loss. Well, to me it isn't. As for Fraser, well, he's never said. At least not out loud...but we've been together near 10 years now, so I'll let you figure it out for yourself.
Who are we kidding? It works in my favour. I still wonder, after all this time, just what the fuck he sees in me.
Put it this way - my eyes are open when I look in the mirror and Fraser, well, usually I've got his reflection looking over my shoulder.
Don't get me wrong, he's still very proper and now that he's back in Canada he's more "it doesn't hurt to be polite, Ray" and "Ray, is that language really necessary?", which is all well and good, when we're out in public - you know where people can hear. Get him home though, and that's a different story. It still gets me hot to hear him say 'fuck'. And when he's really pissed, it comes out more like a growl. Jesus. I just want to bite him.
Sometimes I do.
If he's lucky and I have the control, I'll wait until he's out of his uniform. If I time it just right, I'll get him before he's changed in to his casual gear. I know how to undo that frigging lanyard very, very quickly.
He's so fair and, surprisingly, marks very easily. It such a turn on to put marks on his skin. So he can tell where I've been. Okay, I'll be honest, so I can tell where I've been. Because, even while I'm getting "Ray, below the collar, please" (at least he knows now), he's tilting his head so I can get at him. Fuck, you have not idea of the taste of him. Just thinking about it gets me hotter than someone my age really should be.
See, for a long time, I thought the taste of Stella was the best thing on earth. I know better now. Which is not to say that the taste of Stella wasn't well...stellar. The memory of it, even, is still good. It's young and yearning and growing up, and thank god, the taste of her is in the past.
Fraser is wanting and knowing and now. He's also the future. My, no, our future. Thinking about and making plans for our future doesn't make me feel itchy and restless, like it did when I was with Stella.
When I think about the future with Fraser (and yeah, he'll always be Fraser to me...deal with it, he has), I'm just happy. I can feel the dopey-ass smile on my face. Our future together will be me bitching at the cold, the long nights, and it'll include the pups. Those descended from Diefenbaker. Dief went a year ago, come April. God, I was surprised at how much his passing hurt. Fraser went quiet and stoic. It took a long time for him to work through his grief, but with my ability to bang my head against a wall, and sometimes even get through it - we made it out the other side. Now we have the pups. Two of 'em, descendents of Dief - he was a randy bastard, spreading it far and wide. Many a pup in this region can claim a relationship. The end though, it was tough. One of the hardest things was letting Dief make the decision. The arthritis was too much, plus his kidneys were starting to fail. I'll never forget standing behind Fraser, letting him lean against me as he put the bullet into Dief. I can still feel the recoil. And Fraser's silence.
He had me scared there for a while. It still hurts, but not as badly as it did.
But the future, it's together. I know this because he smiles at me and takes a sip of my coffee. Even though I like it sweet and he, when he drinks it, likes it black. I know this because he eats what I cook for him. I know this because when I wake up, he's curled up behind me and I can feel his breath on my neck - he always tries to hang on to me as I get up to take a piss. His unconscious grumbles as he reaches out for me always make me feel...warm, I guess. Safe. Loved.
So, yeah, that first cup of coffee, that first sip. It's good. Real good.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money. Just thankful that they were given to me to play with.
Coffee
There's something about a cup of coffee...that first sip of a fresh brew that just...well, you know all's right with the world. And then Fraser walks out of our room and fuck it, I know all's right with the world.
Fraser's so perfect. He's pristine. The fact that I'm even thinking the word goes a long way to prove my point. He's a good influence. Heh, well really, even now, he gets me into more trouble - but he's the sort of person that just makes you want to be good too. So I do my best. Funnily enough, it works. I'm well liked here. I'm even, you know, popular. It's a kick to the head, I'll tell you.
So. Here I am. In Canada of all fucking places, drinking my first cup of coffee of the day, watching Fraser finish getting ready for his shift. My life really is hard.
Do you wanna know what the funny thing is? He sleeps in. I have to wake him. Yes sir. I'm the one getting up early now. As he's gotten older, he likes to spend more time in bed. I like to say I'm responsible for that. Hey, it reflects well on me. Not that he's ever late. I just have to get him out of bed now. It used to be me that had to be pried out of bed with a crowbar...Fraser's become more like me! Not that we look alike. Thank God. I know I'm no superstar, but hey, in my lifetime, I've managed to snag two of the most beautiful people I've known.
First Stella, and now Fraser. Jesus, we're coming up to ten years now. We're both well past 40, and let's be honest, it's obvious, but fuck, it's still good.
I gave up everything to be with him. My career, Chicago, everything. To follow Fraser as we searched for that Hand of Franklin. We didn't find it. Still, it's not that much of a loss. Well, to me it isn't. As for Fraser, well, he's never said. At least not out loud...but we've been together near 10 years now, so I'll let you figure it out for yourself.
Who are we kidding? It works in my favour. I still wonder, after all this time, just what the fuck he sees in me.
Put it this way - my eyes are open when I look in the mirror and Fraser, well, usually I've got his reflection looking over my shoulder.
Don't get me wrong, he's still very proper and now that he's back in Canada he's more "it doesn't hurt to be polite, Ray" and "Ray, is that language really necessary?", which is all well and good, when we're out in public - you know where people can hear. Get him home though, and that's a different story. It still gets me hot to hear him say 'fuck'. And when he's really pissed, it comes out more like a growl. Jesus. I just want to bite him.
Sometimes I do.
If he's lucky and I have the control, I'll wait until he's out of his uniform. If I time it just right, I'll get him before he's changed in to his casual gear. I know how to undo that frigging lanyard very, very quickly.
He's so fair and, surprisingly, marks very easily. It such a turn on to put marks on his skin. So he can tell where I've been. Okay, I'll be honest, so I can tell where I've been. Because, even while I'm getting "Ray, below the collar, please" (at least he knows now), he's tilting his head so I can get at him. Fuck, you have not idea of the taste of him. Just thinking about it gets me hotter than someone my age really should be.
See, for a long time, I thought the taste of Stella was the best thing on earth. I know better now. Which is not to say that the taste of Stella wasn't well...stellar. The memory of it, even, is still good. It's young and yearning and growing up, and thank god, the taste of her is in the past.
Fraser is wanting and knowing and now. He's also the future. My, no, our future. Thinking about and making plans for our future doesn't make me feel itchy and restless, like it did when I was with Stella.
When I think about the future with Fraser (and yeah, he'll always be Fraser to me...deal with it, he has), I'm just happy. I can feel the dopey-ass smile on my face. Our future together will be me bitching at the cold, the long nights, and it'll include the pups. Those descended from Diefenbaker. Dief went a year ago, come April. God, I was surprised at how much his passing hurt. Fraser went quiet and stoic. It took a long time for him to work through his grief, but with my ability to bang my head against a wall, and sometimes even get through it - we made it out the other side. Now we have the pups. Two of 'em, descendents of Dief - he was a randy bastard, spreading it far and wide. Many a pup in this region can claim a relationship. The end though, it was tough. One of the hardest things was letting Dief make the decision. The arthritis was too much, plus his kidneys were starting to fail. I'll never forget standing behind Fraser, letting him lean against me as he put the bullet into Dief. I can still feel the recoil. And Fraser's silence.
He had me scared there for a while. It still hurts, but not as badly as it did.
But the future, it's together. I know this because he smiles at me and takes a sip of my coffee. Even though I like it sweet and he, when he drinks it, likes it black. I know this because he eats what I cook for him. I know this because when I wake up, he's curled up behind me and I can feel his breath on my neck - he always tries to hang on to me as I get up to take a piss. His unconscious grumbles as he reaches out for me always make me feel...warm, I guess. Safe. Loved.
So, yeah, that first cup of coffee, that first sip. It's good. Real good.