(no subject)
So, this is from my Writing Exercise Grab-Bag: "F/K, break it thoroughly, leave 'em apart for several years, put 'em back together.". That's pretty much it, only I didn't have the patience to leave them apart for several years, and also I saw an interesting pattern in canon, so I changed it to a couple months instead.
3595 words. F/K, angst, first-time, episode-related (everything from MotB to CotW)
[Disclaimer: The show and its characters belong to Alliance Atlantis, and I make no profit.]
Hide and Seek
The first time Fraser made love to Ray, Ray's hair was damp.
They'd both had to shower after the incident with the Henry Allen, what with the arsenic and PCBs and god knew what else -- but even so, Fraser spent most of his shower working up his nerve. Something, he knew, had to be said. Worse, he owed it to himself to say it. Having convinced himself of this, he straightened his spine, tied a towel about his waist, and bolted through the bathroom door.
He opened his mouth to blurt it all out -- rip the tape off quickly, as it were -- but Ray dashed right past him into the bathroom with hardly a word, and he was left standing there, dumbfounded, with a great deal of tension stopped up in his mouth.
He still remembers those ten excrutiating minutes, pacing about Ray's livingroom, trying to think of the one perfect thing he could possibly say. He hadn't even thought to put on his clothes, just paced and paced and then suddenly he was looking at Ray, and Ray's hair was damp, and his chest was bare, and he was smiling, and all those things together somehow made something vital snap inside his brain, so that he lunged forward and kissed Ray's curved lips instead of saying anything at all.
Ray slept fitfully on Fraser's chest afterward, and Fraser buried his face in Ray's hair and sniffed, slow and deep. He smelled lightly of coconut, artificial but not unpleasant; Fraser held him close and breathed, and breathed, and though he didn't sleep, he was happy enough that he might well have been dreaming.
And like a dream, it ended in the morning. Suddenly everything was terribly complicated; suddenly Ray was fretting and anxious and aggressive, and he wouldn't drive Fraser to work, because he didn't even want Fraser to come to the station. Because Fraser was a man, and Ray was a cop -- and this, this slight objection, enraged Fraser beyond the bounds of reason. They didn't normally resort to shouting at each other, but shout they did, and eventually Ray stormed out of the house and left Fraser to fend for himself. It wasn't, he had to admit, the most promising start.
But he was stubborn. So that night he walked to Ray's apartment, uncertain as to how he would be received there, and so agitated that Dief elected to abandon him on the street. Which turned out to be for the best, really, because Ray ended up hauling him into the apartment and tearing off half his clothes in no more than the space of time it took for Fraser to realize that they weren't, in fact, fighting anymore.
That was how it went, for a few weeks. During the daytime they'd squabble ceaselessly: Ray would yank him into broomclosets to explain, furiously, the reality of being a homosexual police officer, whereupon Fraser would just as furiously suggest that Ray do the responsible thing and find a woman to pursue. Sometimes Ray even listened, and then Fraser would curse his own facetiousness.
But each night, they would meet; each night was so very, very sweet.
None of it made much sense; not even to Dief, who could accept a great many irrational things. So Fraser perservered, hoping that one day, the answer would come to him, like a bolt out of the blue -- though in all other things concerning Ray Kowalski, it usually didn't.
But this time, it has. Fraser is watching Ray unobtrusively, which is fairly easy to do, considering that Ray has just driven a motorcycle through a glass window several feet high, and a variety of people are demanding his attention. All Fraser has to do is hang back, silently, and think.
It's so obvious, now. Ray's not worried about what other people think, though he probably should be. He's not worried about his job, or taunts, or even his own life. But he is afraid. He must know, in his own way, that he cares too much. That he's not in control of his own actions. That he might throw himself through a glass window, and stupidly risk his own life, just for a chance to save Fraser's.
It's not right. Fraser knows this. And so there is only one thing he can possibly do.
"Ray," he says softly, coming up behind him and touching his elbow lightly. "Ray, I -- " Ray turns to him, flushed and triumphant and grinning hugely, and for a moment it's all Fraser can do to keep himself from kissing him -- damn the witnesses, and damn the logic.
The moment passes. Fraser swallows once, hard, and says, "I can't do this."
It's like the world freezes. Police officers keep moving around them, and reporters keep asking questions, but Ray has gone completely still. He's still grinning, but all the triumph has gone out of him. "What?"
Easy, now. Calm. Otherwise, Ray will just think they're playing games again, and this is anything but a game. "I can't do this. Not anymore."
The grin drops off of Ray's face with all the abruptness of a frozen tree exploding, and suddenly the world is in motion again. "But we -- " he stutters, taking a step forward. "We haven't even -- "
Fraser can't bear to hear any more of that sentence. There's about a hundred ways to finish it, and all of them will make him give in. And that can't happen.
So he turns on his heel, and he leaves.
(Two and a half months later)
Fraser's got this way of driving Ray completely out of his fucking mind. Real special, pushes his buttons just like nobody else ever could. Take the licking, for example. Guy's just gotta lick everything, and he knows it grosses Ray out, oh yeah. He's not stupid. He just couldn't care less, which is almost worse.
Then there's his family history. Okay, not his fault, but jeez -- could Frasers get any more homicidal maniacs to go after them? And that's with both Fraser's parents staying up north all their lives. Fraser himself, he's probably got twenty or thirty plotting to kill him already, in one massive armed mob of assassins from hell.
"Ray? Ray!" Ray blinks, drifting out of his angry-armed-mob-from-hell place and into the, whaddayacallit. The material world. Not that that's much better; right now the material world has snow, and more snow, and Fraser. Who's sitting between Ray's legs while riding on a snowmobile, and oh yeah, that was why he'd tuned out. Dammit.
"What? If you tell me we're there, I am going to kick you in the head. We are in the middle of frikkin' nowhere. I mean, even my parents' place in Arizona had a 7-11 down the block."
"Don't be silly, Ray. Of course we aren't there yet. I was just noticing that your grip on my midsection had taken a slightly distracted set."
"Fraser. I'm a big boy. I'm not gonna fall off the snowmobile."
"I didn't -- " But Fraser breaks off, apparently figuring it's a lost cause, and instead says, "Penny for your thoughts?"
Ray smirks. "Fantasizing."
It's pretty difficult to tell underneath all that fluffy warm stuff Fraser's wearing, but Ray knows he's gone a little rigid. "Oh?" Fraser says finally, as cautiously as he can while shouting over the roar of the snowmobile's engine.
"Yeah. About you getting done in by an angry mob."
"Ah." And it should be weird, shouldn't it, that that makes Fraser relax. Still, with the history they've got, they're lucky to even be speaking to each other. "You know, when I was younger, the sexual education instructor told us very firmly that all of our fantasies were perfecty normal, no matter what the content. But in this case -- "
"Oh, fuck off," Ray mutters, too tired to put any venom into it.
"Understood."
They ride for a bit longer, but Ray's finding it a lot more difficult to zone out this time 'round. 'Cause Fraser's ass is -- okay, actually probably about six inches away from his dick, but it feels like less because none of those six inches is air. And Ray doesn't normally sit in back, because he hates not driving, but apparently the bits of him that aren't actually thinking think it's a great idea. Fraser can't feel that, can he? Ray can't even feel the tip of his own nose, for Christ's sake.
"Ray?" Shit. Shit shit shit. "Ray, I think we need to -- oh, dear."
"What? I didn't -- " and suddenly the snowmobile is screeching to a halt, going into a spin, and Ray's clutching at Fraser for dear life and half convinced that he's going to die, he's finally going to die and it's going to be the single stupidest thing imaginable, a frikkin' snowmobile crash in the middle of nowhere and he'd always said Fraser sucked at driving --
And then they've stopped, and Ray opens his eyes to find a caribou looking down at him kind of disdainfully. "Fraser," Ray gasps. "What -- "
"Well, I could hardly run it over," Fraser counters, using his reasonable-voice. "It's rather more massive than us, and would certainly have suffered less damage than us -- "
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?"
"Watch the fucking icefield."
"Yes, Ray," and hey, who knew Benton Fraser even did apologetic.
The waystation Fraser takes them to is pretty basic: no electricity, no hot water. But there's a blazing fireplace, and twenty or thirty Mounties milling around cheerfully, and somebody presses a can of beer into Ray's hand when he walks through the door. Ray can't complain -- weird, seeing as there's no TV or even actual lights.
Doesn't seem to matter, though. People look at Fraser and they probably get the idea that Mounties've got no idea how to party. Which is completely, totally not true. The air in there's, like, saturated with victory. Ray feels like a frikkin' gladiator or something -- his face feels like it's splitting open with a grin, and Dief's appeared from somewhere and is leaping around his legs, and people he doesn't know keep clapping him roughly on the back as he passes.
With all of that, it takes him a minute to realize that Fraser's really, seriously freaked out.
It doesn't help that Fraser's trying pretty damn hard not to be noticed, walking right behind Ray, barely an inch of space between them. Like he's using Ray as a shield, deflecting all the attention, which is weird, since it's really Fraser who did all the work. He can't really stop moving and turn around, 'cause that's unexpected and will make people look, so instead he keeps the momentum and just leans back a little. As close as Fraser's following him, that's enough. "What's with you?" he mutters, and Fraser tugs his collar away from his neck.
"It's a bit...loud," he says, and Ray bites his lip so he won't laugh. Loud, yeah, okay. For somebody like Fraser, maybe. So, up to the room -- nah, with the mood these guys are in, somebody'll end up following them up, and that is not a place Ray wants to go. Other option is... "Follow me," he says, jerking his head, and Fraser doesn't say "why?" or "give me a reason," which is a fucking miracle.
Ray squeezes through the crowd to a couple of chairs he'd spied tucked away in the corner of the room: the universal sign for "privacy wanted", probably even in Canada. It's still loud, but at least they've got a couple of feet of space to themselves, and Fraser seems pretty relieved when he drops into a chair. He flashes Ray a grateful smile, and Ray grins back --
-- and suddenly his skin's crawling, because this is just so damn familiar. Maybe not with Fraser, but with Stella, back in high school when he was smoother than she was. He still remembers the first party she let him take her to, where they'd ended up huddled in the shadows for most of the night, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder, and at the end of the night she'd leaned in and brushed her lips against his, first time for everything, and --
"Ray?" Ray blinks and snaps back to the present to find Fraser watching him intently, and feels his cheeks warming. Fraser's not Stella, and Ray's kissed Fraser before, and there is no way in hell they're gonna be kissing now. Fucking remember that, he tells his dick firmly, and sips at his beer to cover his awkwardness.
"Yeah?"
"Are you still fantasizing about my demise by raging mob?"
Ray snorts. "Nah, I -- no. Just tired, I guess." Dief's furry face appears in the crowd; he barks at them impatiently, then darts off and vanishes into the crowd again. "Dog gets all the fun, huh?" Fraser's lips twitch, but his eyes stay just as serious. Which is fine. He's probably tired, too.
A couple Mounties pass by and shake Ray's hand, or Fraser's, but mainly they're busy schmoozing and drinking beer and having a good time. Meanwhile, Ray's slowly getting buzzed, and the more buzzed he gets the more he forgets not to stare at Fraser, and the more he forgets the more he's aware of just how damn close they are, close enough to smell each other, close enough to...
"Ray," Fraser says softly again, and jeez, that's got to be the sixth time he's said Ray's name tonight. If Ray learned anything from -- well, whatever it was they'd been, those couple of weeks -- it was how to tell when he's got something important to say. "I've been thinking."
"Mm?" Geez, Fraser's warm. Even in here, where Ray's almost not cold at all, it's like he can feel the heat radiating off of the guy. Or maybe that's just his imagination.
"We've worked well together the past couple of years, haven't we?"
"Mmhm." And Fraser's mouth...god, that mouth ought to be made illegal. It had been enough of a temptation before Ray knew what he could do with it, and now -- it's just not fucking fair.
"That is, we've gotten along. For the most part. With a few...unusual exceptions."
"Yeah, sure." Don't look. That's the only solution. If he doesn't look, he won't wanna touch. Simple.
"And -- well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've made mistakes. A number of mistakes. Some of them severe."
"Uh-huh." But even that's no good, because he can still hear that voice: deep and rich, and he's never been much for voices but right now it's just so damn focused, on him, and before he can censor the thought he hears that dark chuckle Fraser sometimes makes when they're in bed together, skin to skin, sleepy and sated and oh god is he in trouble.
"But the worst, I think, was what I did to you. And I'd like -- I'd like to remedy that."
It takes a second for the meaning of that one to filter through Ray's brain, but when it does, his mind goes blank. He doesn't know what to think -- because sure, yeah, it's everything he could've wished for.
It's also the single most terrifying thing Fraser could ever say.
"No," Ray breathes, staring at Fraser, and before he knows it he's on his feet. The chair screeches back across the floor. "I -- no. Just -- " And then he's dodging through the clumps of people, barreling out the door into the blissfully cold air, and he's going to freeze his ass off but at this point he's probably more scared of Fraser than he is of dying.
Fraser doesn't seem to follow him, is the good part. A couple of minutes go by, and nobody comes out the door -- and then it does, but it's only Dief. "What?" Ray snarls at him, when the wolf stops to stare pointedly. "What?"
Dief shakes himself, like he's washing his hands of Ray and his neuroses, and bolts off into the night. Well, fine. Good riddance.
A few more minutes go by, and then a few more, and Ray starts to realize that Fraser really isn't coming after him. Anybody sane only asks their ex if they want to get back together once; either they want to or they don't, and if they don't thy're never gonna. But, still. Fraser being Fraser, Ray was kind of hoping he didn't know that.
Ray wraps his arms around his chest, shivering, listening to the great outdoors -- and then he hears a footstep. Nothing natural, either, too harsh and abrupt. Snowshoes, or boots at the very least, he guesses, and watches absently for the source to come close enough for him to see.
Turns out he's right, and he'd gloat about that if Fraser were here. "Hey there," he calls, and the guy waves at him and starts to head his way. As he gets closer, Ray can see that he's another Mountie: old, probably just late to the party. Got lost, maybe.
But the old guy seems a lot more interested in Ray than the party. "You there," he says, trudging up. "Yank. You're making a mistake."
Ray blinks. "Uh, I don't know what you're talking about. Actually, I don't even know who you are, so -- "
"The name's Bob. And I'm quite sure you do know what I'm talking about, but just in case you're telling the truth, here's a hint for you." Bob digs his heels into the snow and faces Ray squarely. "Partnership is a precious thing, young man. You'd do well to keep hold of it." Ray gapes at him, and Bob peers back. Finally he adds, "You understand?"
"I -- I dunno. Maybe." Bob scowls at him, like he was expecting something more impressive than that, but shakes his head and starts to walk out into the icefield. "Hey! Where you going? All the other Mounties're in there!"
"Can't stop now, son," Bob shouts back at him, not pausing. "I'm not supposed to be here, I've got an appointment with a very impatient fellow." And he just goes right back where he came from, vanishing into the darkness. Absolutely unhinged.
Ray's still staring after him, squinting to see, when the door opens into his ass and Fraser steps out. "Oh -- sorry, Ray, I -- " And then Fraser stops, and looks at him. "Sorry," he says again, but this time it means something completely different. "I shouldn't have asked, I... " But there's no end to that sentence. He just stands there, jaw working like he might be able to form some words if he chews the air up enough.
Hoo, boy. Ray blows out a breath, trying to think. Because the random passing Mountie had been right. Unhinged, yes. Pushy and annoying, yes. Eaten by a bear by now, probably. But right. "Look, Fraser, I -- it's difficult. That's all." Fraser just looks at him, not getting it, so he keeps talking. "'Cause, you know, I never knew what I did wrong, you know? Like, I save your life, and next thing I know you're pissed at me. And I never got around to asking why, because you looked like it was tearing you up inside just to be near me, and then when that stopped there was just never the right time. And I tried to move on, you know that, and all that happened was I got a couple more rejections under my belt and felt like an idiot. Because I'd hit the jackpot, got myself the real damn thing, and then I fucked it up, and that was stupid. That was so, so..."
But Fraser's smiling at him now, eyes sparkling in the starlight, and he suddenly seems a hell of a lot closer than he'd been a minute ago. "Ray," he says, in that special, quiet way that always sends a shiver down Ray's spine. "Let me -- let me take you on an adventure. I'll show you the world, everything, every beautiful thing the Northwest Territories have to offer -- and we'll start over. From the beginning." Fraser's just inches away now, and somehow, they're still not touching. "No regrets," he breathes warmly, and Ray can feel air brush over his own lips. "Would you -- like that?"
Ray hesitates. Fraser seems to think they've worked everything out, when the fact is, Ray's still marooned in the Land of Doubts and Uncertainty. Story of his life. "But what'd I do wrong? What'd -- "
"Shh. Nothing."
"So then why -- "
"Because I love you, Ray, don't you see?" And no, Ray does not see. But he does know that Fraser is no undercover cop, and so all of the emotional crap churning in his voice right now is real. Realer than real. The realest damn thing Ray's ever heard -- and honestly, if he can't believe in that, what the hell else is he supposed to build his world out of?
So he nods, once -- and it's like Fraser lets go, surges forward and swallows Ray up in his arms and legs and mouth, and Ray's heart is hammering faster than it should and this does not happen to him but it is, it is, and it's a second before he realizes what he's murmuring against Fraser's skin:
"Found you. I found you."
--fin
3595 words. F/K, angst, first-time, episode-related (everything from MotB to CotW)
[Disclaimer: The show and its characters belong to Alliance Atlantis, and I make no profit.]
Hide and Seek
The first time Fraser made love to Ray, Ray's hair was damp.
They'd both had to shower after the incident with the Henry Allen, what with the arsenic and PCBs and god knew what else -- but even so, Fraser spent most of his shower working up his nerve. Something, he knew, had to be said. Worse, he owed it to himself to say it. Having convinced himself of this, he straightened his spine, tied a towel about his waist, and bolted through the bathroom door.
He opened his mouth to blurt it all out -- rip the tape off quickly, as it were -- but Ray dashed right past him into the bathroom with hardly a word, and he was left standing there, dumbfounded, with a great deal of tension stopped up in his mouth.
He still remembers those ten excrutiating minutes, pacing about Ray's livingroom, trying to think of the one perfect thing he could possibly say. He hadn't even thought to put on his clothes, just paced and paced and then suddenly he was looking at Ray, and Ray's hair was damp, and his chest was bare, and he was smiling, and all those things together somehow made something vital snap inside his brain, so that he lunged forward and kissed Ray's curved lips instead of saying anything at all.
Ray slept fitfully on Fraser's chest afterward, and Fraser buried his face in Ray's hair and sniffed, slow and deep. He smelled lightly of coconut, artificial but not unpleasant; Fraser held him close and breathed, and breathed, and though he didn't sleep, he was happy enough that he might well have been dreaming.
And like a dream, it ended in the morning. Suddenly everything was terribly complicated; suddenly Ray was fretting and anxious and aggressive, and he wouldn't drive Fraser to work, because he didn't even want Fraser to come to the station. Because Fraser was a man, and Ray was a cop -- and this, this slight objection, enraged Fraser beyond the bounds of reason. They didn't normally resort to shouting at each other, but shout they did, and eventually Ray stormed out of the house and left Fraser to fend for himself. It wasn't, he had to admit, the most promising start.
But he was stubborn. So that night he walked to Ray's apartment, uncertain as to how he would be received there, and so agitated that Dief elected to abandon him on the street. Which turned out to be for the best, really, because Ray ended up hauling him into the apartment and tearing off half his clothes in no more than the space of time it took for Fraser to realize that they weren't, in fact, fighting anymore.
That was how it went, for a few weeks. During the daytime they'd squabble ceaselessly: Ray would yank him into broomclosets to explain, furiously, the reality of being a homosexual police officer, whereupon Fraser would just as furiously suggest that Ray do the responsible thing and find a woman to pursue. Sometimes Ray even listened, and then Fraser would curse his own facetiousness.
But each night, they would meet; each night was so very, very sweet.
None of it made much sense; not even to Dief, who could accept a great many irrational things. So Fraser perservered, hoping that one day, the answer would come to him, like a bolt out of the blue -- though in all other things concerning Ray Kowalski, it usually didn't.
But this time, it has. Fraser is watching Ray unobtrusively, which is fairly easy to do, considering that Ray has just driven a motorcycle through a glass window several feet high, and a variety of people are demanding his attention. All Fraser has to do is hang back, silently, and think.
It's so obvious, now. Ray's not worried about what other people think, though he probably should be. He's not worried about his job, or taunts, or even his own life. But he is afraid. He must know, in his own way, that he cares too much. That he's not in control of his own actions. That he might throw himself through a glass window, and stupidly risk his own life, just for a chance to save Fraser's.
It's not right. Fraser knows this. And so there is only one thing he can possibly do.
"Ray," he says softly, coming up behind him and touching his elbow lightly. "Ray, I -- " Ray turns to him, flushed and triumphant and grinning hugely, and for a moment it's all Fraser can do to keep himself from kissing him -- damn the witnesses, and damn the logic.
The moment passes. Fraser swallows once, hard, and says, "I can't do this."
It's like the world freezes. Police officers keep moving around them, and reporters keep asking questions, but Ray has gone completely still. He's still grinning, but all the triumph has gone out of him. "What?"
Easy, now. Calm. Otherwise, Ray will just think they're playing games again, and this is anything but a game. "I can't do this. Not anymore."
The grin drops off of Ray's face with all the abruptness of a frozen tree exploding, and suddenly the world is in motion again. "But we -- " he stutters, taking a step forward. "We haven't even -- "
Fraser can't bear to hear any more of that sentence. There's about a hundred ways to finish it, and all of them will make him give in. And that can't happen.
So he turns on his heel, and he leaves.
(Two and a half months later)
Fraser's got this way of driving Ray completely out of his fucking mind. Real special, pushes his buttons just like nobody else ever could. Take the licking, for example. Guy's just gotta lick everything, and he knows it grosses Ray out, oh yeah. He's not stupid. He just couldn't care less, which is almost worse.
Then there's his family history. Okay, not his fault, but jeez -- could Frasers get any more homicidal maniacs to go after them? And that's with both Fraser's parents staying up north all their lives. Fraser himself, he's probably got twenty or thirty plotting to kill him already, in one massive armed mob of assassins from hell.
"Ray? Ray!" Ray blinks, drifting out of his angry-armed-mob-from-hell place and into the, whaddayacallit. The material world. Not that that's much better; right now the material world has snow, and more snow, and Fraser. Who's sitting between Ray's legs while riding on a snowmobile, and oh yeah, that was why he'd tuned out. Dammit.
"What? If you tell me we're there, I am going to kick you in the head. We are in the middle of frikkin' nowhere. I mean, even my parents' place in Arizona had a 7-11 down the block."
"Don't be silly, Ray. Of course we aren't there yet. I was just noticing that your grip on my midsection had taken a slightly distracted set."
"Fraser. I'm a big boy. I'm not gonna fall off the snowmobile."
"I didn't -- " But Fraser breaks off, apparently figuring it's a lost cause, and instead says, "Penny for your thoughts?"
Ray smirks. "Fantasizing."
It's pretty difficult to tell underneath all that fluffy warm stuff Fraser's wearing, but Ray knows he's gone a little rigid. "Oh?" Fraser says finally, as cautiously as he can while shouting over the roar of the snowmobile's engine.
"Yeah. About you getting done in by an angry mob."
"Ah." And it should be weird, shouldn't it, that that makes Fraser relax. Still, with the history they've got, they're lucky to even be speaking to each other. "You know, when I was younger, the sexual education instructor told us very firmly that all of our fantasies were perfecty normal, no matter what the content. But in this case -- "
"Oh, fuck off," Ray mutters, too tired to put any venom into it.
"Understood."
They ride for a bit longer, but Ray's finding it a lot more difficult to zone out this time 'round. 'Cause Fraser's ass is -- okay, actually probably about six inches away from his dick, but it feels like less because none of those six inches is air. And Ray doesn't normally sit in back, because he hates not driving, but apparently the bits of him that aren't actually thinking think it's a great idea. Fraser can't feel that, can he? Ray can't even feel the tip of his own nose, for Christ's sake.
"Ray?" Shit. Shit shit shit. "Ray, I think we need to -- oh, dear."
"What? I didn't -- " and suddenly the snowmobile is screeching to a halt, going into a spin, and Ray's clutching at Fraser for dear life and half convinced that he's going to die, he's finally going to die and it's going to be the single stupidest thing imaginable, a frikkin' snowmobile crash in the middle of nowhere and he'd always said Fraser sucked at driving --
And then they've stopped, and Ray opens his eyes to find a caribou looking down at him kind of disdainfully. "Fraser," Ray gasps. "What -- "
"Well, I could hardly run it over," Fraser counters, using his reasonable-voice. "It's rather more massive than us, and would certainly have suffered less damage than us -- "
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?"
"Watch the fucking icefield."
"Yes, Ray," and hey, who knew Benton Fraser even did apologetic.
The waystation Fraser takes them to is pretty basic: no electricity, no hot water. But there's a blazing fireplace, and twenty or thirty Mounties milling around cheerfully, and somebody presses a can of beer into Ray's hand when he walks through the door. Ray can't complain -- weird, seeing as there's no TV or even actual lights.
Doesn't seem to matter, though. People look at Fraser and they probably get the idea that Mounties've got no idea how to party. Which is completely, totally not true. The air in there's, like, saturated with victory. Ray feels like a frikkin' gladiator or something -- his face feels like it's splitting open with a grin, and Dief's appeared from somewhere and is leaping around his legs, and people he doesn't know keep clapping him roughly on the back as he passes.
With all of that, it takes him a minute to realize that Fraser's really, seriously freaked out.
It doesn't help that Fraser's trying pretty damn hard not to be noticed, walking right behind Ray, barely an inch of space between them. Like he's using Ray as a shield, deflecting all the attention, which is weird, since it's really Fraser who did all the work. He can't really stop moving and turn around, 'cause that's unexpected and will make people look, so instead he keeps the momentum and just leans back a little. As close as Fraser's following him, that's enough. "What's with you?" he mutters, and Fraser tugs his collar away from his neck.
"It's a bit...loud," he says, and Ray bites his lip so he won't laugh. Loud, yeah, okay. For somebody like Fraser, maybe. So, up to the room -- nah, with the mood these guys are in, somebody'll end up following them up, and that is not a place Ray wants to go. Other option is... "Follow me," he says, jerking his head, and Fraser doesn't say "why?" or "give me a reason," which is a fucking miracle.
Ray squeezes through the crowd to a couple of chairs he'd spied tucked away in the corner of the room: the universal sign for "privacy wanted", probably even in Canada. It's still loud, but at least they've got a couple of feet of space to themselves, and Fraser seems pretty relieved when he drops into a chair. He flashes Ray a grateful smile, and Ray grins back --
-- and suddenly his skin's crawling, because this is just so damn familiar. Maybe not with Fraser, but with Stella, back in high school when he was smoother than she was. He still remembers the first party she let him take her to, where they'd ended up huddled in the shadows for most of the night, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder, and at the end of the night she'd leaned in and brushed her lips against his, first time for everything, and --
"Ray?" Ray blinks and snaps back to the present to find Fraser watching him intently, and feels his cheeks warming. Fraser's not Stella, and Ray's kissed Fraser before, and there is no way in hell they're gonna be kissing now. Fucking remember that, he tells his dick firmly, and sips at his beer to cover his awkwardness.
"Yeah?"
"Are you still fantasizing about my demise by raging mob?"
Ray snorts. "Nah, I -- no. Just tired, I guess." Dief's furry face appears in the crowd; he barks at them impatiently, then darts off and vanishes into the crowd again. "Dog gets all the fun, huh?" Fraser's lips twitch, but his eyes stay just as serious. Which is fine. He's probably tired, too.
A couple Mounties pass by and shake Ray's hand, or Fraser's, but mainly they're busy schmoozing and drinking beer and having a good time. Meanwhile, Ray's slowly getting buzzed, and the more buzzed he gets the more he forgets not to stare at Fraser, and the more he forgets the more he's aware of just how damn close they are, close enough to smell each other, close enough to...
"Ray," Fraser says softly again, and jeez, that's got to be the sixth time he's said Ray's name tonight. If Ray learned anything from -- well, whatever it was they'd been, those couple of weeks -- it was how to tell when he's got something important to say. "I've been thinking."
"Mm?" Geez, Fraser's warm. Even in here, where Ray's almost not cold at all, it's like he can feel the heat radiating off of the guy. Or maybe that's just his imagination.
"We've worked well together the past couple of years, haven't we?"
"Mmhm." And Fraser's mouth...god, that mouth ought to be made illegal. It had been enough of a temptation before Ray knew what he could do with it, and now -- it's just not fucking fair.
"That is, we've gotten along. For the most part. With a few...unusual exceptions."
"Yeah, sure." Don't look. That's the only solution. If he doesn't look, he won't wanna touch. Simple.
"And -- well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've made mistakes. A number of mistakes. Some of them severe."
"Uh-huh." But even that's no good, because he can still hear that voice: deep and rich, and he's never been much for voices but right now it's just so damn focused, on him, and before he can censor the thought he hears that dark chuckle Fraser sometimes makes when they're in bed together, skin to skin, sleepy and sated and oh god is he in trouble.
"But the worst, I think, was what I did to you. And I'd like -- I'd like to remedy that."
It takes a second for the meaning of that one to filter through Ray's brain, but when it does, his mind goes blank. He doesn't know what to think -- because sure, yeah, it's everything he could've wished for.
It's also the single most terrifying thing Fraser could ever say.
"No," Ray breathes, staring at Fraser, and before he knows it he's on his feet. The chair screeches back across the floor. "I -- no. Just -- " And then he's dodging through the clumps of people, barreling out the door into the blissfully cold air, and he's going to freeze his ass off but at this point he's probably more scared of Fraser than he is of dying.
Fraser doesn't seem to follow him, is the good part. A couple of minutes go by, and nobody comes out the door -- and then it does, but it's only Dief. "What?" Ray snarls at him, when the wolf stops to stare pointedly. "What?"
Dief shakes himself, like he's washing his hands of Ray and his neuroses, and bolts off into the night. Well, fine. Good riddance.
A few more minutes go by, and then a few more, and Ray starts to realize that Fraser really isn't coming after him. Anybody sane only asks their ex if they want to get back together once; either they want to or they don't, and if they don't thy're never gonna. But, still. Fraser being Fraser, Ray was kind of hoping he didn't know that.
Ray wraps his arms around his chest, shivering, listening to the great outdoors -- and then he hears a footstep. Nothing natural, either, too harsh and abrupt. Snowshoes, or boots at the very least, he guesses, and watches absently for the source to come close enough for him to see.
Turns out he's right, and he'd gloat about that if Fraser were here. "Hey there," he calls, and the guy waves at him and starts to head his way. As he gets closer, Ray can see that he's another Mountie: old, probably just late to the party. Got lost, maybe.
But the old guy seems a lot more interested in Ray than the party. "You there," he says, trudging up. "Yank. You're making a mistake."
Ray blinks. "Uh, I don't know what you're talking about. Actually, I don't even know who you are, so -- "
"The name's Bob. And I'm quite sure you do know what I'm talking about, but just in case you're telling the truth, here's a hint for you." Bob digs his heels into the snow and faces Ray squarely. "Partnership is a precious thing, young man. You'd do well to keep hold of it." Ray gapes at him, and Bob peers back. Finally he adds, "You understand?"
"I -- I dunno. Maybe." Bob scowls at him, like he was expecting something more impressive than that, but shakes his head and starts to walk out into the icefield. "Hey! Where you going? All the other Mounties're in there!"
"Can't stop now, son," Bob shouts back at him, not pausing. "I'm not supposed to be here, I've got an appointment with a very impatient fellow." And he just goes right back where he came from, vanishing into the darkness. Absolutely unhinged.
Ray's still staring after him, squinting to see, when the door opens into his ass and Fraser steps out. "Oh -- sorry, Ray, I -- " And then Fraser stops, and looks at him. "Sorry," he says again, but this time it means something completely different. "I shouldn't have asked, I... " But there's no end to that sentence. He just stands there, jaw working like he might be able to form some words if he chews the air up enough.
Hoo, boy. Ray blows out a breath, trying to think. Because the random passing Mountie had been right. Unhinged, yes. Pushy and annoying, yes. Eaten by a bear by now, probably. But right. "Look, Fraser, I -- it's difficult. That's all." Fraser just looks at him, not getting it, so he keeps talking. "'Cause, you know, I never knew what I did wrong, you know? Like, I save your life, and next thing I know you're pissed at me. And I never got around to asking why, because you looked like it was tearing you up inside just to be near me, and then when that stopped there was just never the right time. And I tried to move on, you know that, and all that happened was I got a couple more rejections under my belt and felt like an idiot. Because I'd hit the jackpot, got myself the real damn thing, and then I fucked it up, and that was stupid. That was so, so..."
But Fraser's smiling at him now, eyes sparkling in the starlight, and he suddenly seems a hell of a lot closer than he'd been a minute ago. "Ray," he says, in that special, quiet way that always sends a shiver down Ray's spine. "Let me -- let me take you on an adventure. I'll show you the world, everything, every beautiful thing the Northwest Territories have to offer -- and we'll start over. From the beginning." Fraser's just inches away now, and somehow, they're still not touching. "No regrets," he breathes warmly, and Ray can feel air brush over his own lips. "Would you -- like that?"
Ray hesitates. Fraser seems to think they've worked everything out, when the fact is, Ray's still marooned in the Land of Doubts and Uncertainty. Story of his life. "But what'd I do wrong? What'd -- "
"Shh. Nothing."
"So then why -- "
"Because I love you, Ray, don't you see?" And no, Ray does not see. But he does know that Fraser is no undercover cop, and so all of the emotional crap churning in his voice right now is real. Realer than real. The realest damn thing Ray's ever heard -- and honestly, if he can't believe in that, what the hell else is he supposed to build his world out of?
So he nods, once -- and it's like Fraser lets go, surges forward and swallows Ray up in his arms and legs and mouth, and Ray's heart is hammering faster than it should and this does not happen to him but it is, it is, and it's a second before he realizes what he's murmuring against Fraser's skin:
"Found you. I found you."
--fin