FIC: The Talk (dS, F/K, PG)
Title: The Talk
Author: Sineala
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG
Length: 1800 words
Contains: Nothing needing content advisories.
Spoilers: AU, set shortly after "Burning Down the House."
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Summary: Even in a world where police officers bond psychically with wolves, Fraser's bond with his wolfbrother is unique, leaving them isolated, shunned by most wolves. It isn't until he meets Ray Kowalski that Fraser realizes he might not be entirely unwelcome.
Notes: Happy Lupercalia! This is for the third annual Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia challenge. I have tried to write a different fandom every year so far. This one feels kind of like cheating. Thanks to everyone who helped me name Ray's wolfsister. (Also available on AO3 here.)
"So," Ray said, as they each slid into their own sides of the restaurant's booth, "I think that you and me, Fraser, we need to have a talk about wolves."
Blanche, with her brindled coat nearly as spiky as Ray's hair, jumped up on the sagging, torn-open vinyl bench next to Ray, eagerly crowding him, while Diefenbaker, obviously still feeling himself unwelcome with this new pair, sat patiently by Fraser's feet, on the floor near the end of the booth. Fraser watched Ray's fingers point back and forth at both of them as he talked -- you and me -- with only a glum resignation. He knew what Ray was going to say. He knew what they always said. It had been one of the first things Ray Vecchio had asked, of course. He hadn't meant anything by it. They never did. But Ray and his brother had hurt them, just the same. Everyone did. Even Ray, at first, even though he'd apologized later, even though they'd become the best of friends. The real Ray Vecchio. The phrase sounded familiar even as he thought it.
("And finally, Lieutenant," he'd said so triumphantly to Welsh, not three days ago, "the real Ray Vecchio has a wolfbrother, and this man quite obviously has a wolfsister."
Welsh had rolled his eyes, disgusted, and his sister had growled at them from under the desk. "Of course he's not Ray Vecchio, Constable.")
Fraser drew himself up and tried to pretend that he didn't know what was coming. "What about wolves?"
"Well, you know," Ray said, and then stopped and looked away, running his hand through his hair. This did not clarify matters. "I mean -- hey, knock it off! Sandor's gonna kick us out for good if you eat another one of his tables, mutt."
Blanche, who had been idly mouthing at the chipped Formica table, lifted her head and snorted in disdain.
"No, Ray," said Fraser, patiently. "I don't know."
Ray turned one long-fingered hand palm-up, pleading. "Of course you do."
Several frozen seconds passed.
"I'm afraid I really don't."
He didn't know why he was pressing Ray. Some twisted part of him wanted to hear Ray say it, to wound him, to have it be over with.
Finally, Ray took pity on him. "I don't know how they do things in the Northwest Areas, Fraser, but here in America when a cop has a new partner, and said cop also has a wolfsister, and his new partner has a wolfbrother, sometimes, just sometimes, people make certain assumptions about that cop's-- about his--"
Oh. Oh.
Fraser felt his face heat up, and he entirely missed several sentences of Ray's explanation.
Well, that was different. Fraser suspected that this was the standard conversation other wolf-bonded law enforcement personnel had with each other, instead of the one they always had with him.
He'd never-- no one had ever-- they'd always assumed that Dief wouldn't, or couldn't, or that their bitch would reject him out of hand if he'd ever wanted to try for one of the breedings. That was at least better than the people who said to his face to keep Dief away when their bitch was in heat. Poor Diefenbaker, always unsuitable.
No one had ever assumed he, or Dief, would be interested.
Hastily, he refocused his attention on Ray, who seemed by now to be recounting some involved tale of his adolescent discovery of his sexual orientation.
"--so I wondered, hey, was I bisexual? Or did I just like David Bowie? Ziggy Stardust," he clarified, incomprehensibly. "That'll turn anyone queer. Anyway, I'm not saying I wouldn't be up for it, if you wanted, if the two of you wanted, the next time Blanche's in heat, but, you know, just ask first." He sighed, shaking his head, his expression one of infinite exhaustion. "Do you know how much shit I have taken from guys who just assumed that me and Blanche would let them do whatever they wanted, even when she's not in heat, because she's a bitch? That would be all the shit, Fraser. All the shit ever. And it sucks."
"I'm sorry," Fraser said, automatically, not thinking about what he was saying, still stuck on how Ray was treating it all so... normally. As if they were like anyone else. As if they could be.
"But, hey," said Ray, perking up a little, "Blanche thinks you smell all right for a human, and she says she likes Dief, and speaking for myself here, honestly, you're pretty hot, so--" Ray stopped, suddenly. He seemed finally to have taken notice that Fraser hadn't said anything. "Fraser? Aww, geez, am I coming on too strong? Stella, my ex-wife, she always used to say I had a problem with that. Fuck. Forget I said anything."
"No, no!" Fraser said, hastily, before Ray could castigate himself further. "It's-- it's perfectly fine, really." Ray's face relaxed infinitesimally. "It's just that... I wasn't expecting you to say that, when you said we had to talk."
"Then what?"
"I thought," Fraser said, swallowing hard, "that you were going to ask about Dief. About me."
"What about you and Dief? I don't understand."
Ray sounded honestly confused. He didn't know? How could he not know?
They both glanced down at the wolf. Dief wagged once.
"I thought you were going to let me know you were shutting us out of your end of the pack-sense." Fraser closed his eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Fraser." When he opened his eyes again, Ray had both his arms around Blanche along with half of his torso, as if protecting her from the very idea of it; her hackles were up and Ray's face had gone white. "You're my partner. My partner. Why the fuck would I do that?"
"Everyone else does," he said, and Dief whimpered. "They always have." Ray Vecchio had let him back in -- the first one ever -- and he had been so grateful for it. He knew better than to expect mercy twice. Even if Ray was looking at the two of them now as if horrified that they might leave him.
"What? Why?"
"Diefenbaker is deaf." The statement fell baldly from his lips. There was no sense in being euphemistic about it.
Ray frowned and glanced down at Dief. "Deaf? But he looks like he's hearing me just fine. Hey, Dief?" Ray's voice was uncertain, but one pale ear of Dief's swiveled to listen, perking up at the sound of his own name. As always.
"Not auditorily deaf. He can hear and understand you quite well, believe me."
"Then what--?"
Fraser sighed. "Psychically. He's deaf to the pack-sense. He can't hear it. Because he can't, I can't either. He can broadcast to it, I've been told, but he can't perceive it. The same is true of our bond: I can hear him in my mind, but he can't hear me in his." There. That was it.
A deformation of the true lupine bond, they'd told him at Depot. Break it, and find a real wolf.
I want Dief, he'd said, and he knew then that he'd just destroyed his career.
Ray blinked once. Twice. "You can't sense the pack at all?"
Fraser shook his head. "Not in the slightest."
"So if I do this--" Ray's eyes narrowed, in that way Fraser had come to associate with people trying their hardest to think at him. "No, huh?"
"Sorry."
Ray's mouth curved; the smile was sad. "That's gotta be rough."
"It is what it is, Ray." He held out his hands, helplessly. "As I was saying, most wolf-bonded people I have worked with choose to eject us from the pack-sense entirely; they find it distressing to associate with a wolf and human who cannot receive them. I'm surprised Blanche didn't inform you." He was surprised, too, that Ray had not noticed it himself, but he kept that thought private -- or at least, he thought he did. He had been told that Dief could push his thoughts into the pack-sense for him, but with the deafness, he could never tell if Dief had.
"I thought you were just being private." Ray shrugged. "Some guys are like that." Maybe he had heard Fraser's thought after all. "Some wolves are like that."
"I wouldn't be offended if you turned us away," Fraser said, not daring to hope for more. Hope only hurt. "I would understand completely."
Now Ray's expression turned fierce, his lips parted, and his sister's jaw opened in a snarl, revealing shining white teeth. Fraser steeled himself.
"Did I not make myself understood, Fraser? Hell, no!" He sounded sickened, appalled at the thought. "Unless you two actually want out of it, you're staying in the pack-sense! I wouldn't fucking do that to anyone. And I want you there. We want you there."
There was a white blur of movement, and then Dief was off the floor, onto the seat, scrambling into Fraser's arms, bright-eyed and quivering with happiness: Fraser could read that as clear as anything. Yes yes yes, Dief said, tail wagging furiously, I like him, brother, I like them, yes!
Ray laughed. "I think the whole world heard that." Blanche yipped an agreement.
"You really mean that?" He hated himself for asking, but he had to be sure. He had to know that Ray wasn't going to take it back.
Ray grinned. "Fraser. I'm a freak. I'm a queer cop with a wolfsister and the last time I dyed my hair I gave Blanche a blond stripe to match. I got no standing to judge. Dief's a wolf. You're his brother. If you want to be in our weird little pack, you are welcome to join. More than welcome." He coughed. "Maybe it's better that you didn't hear what else Blanche just said you were welcome to." He motioned vaguely at himself, downward, in the direction of -- oh.
"Oh, dear." Fraser looked away, only to see Blanche grinning a shameless lupine grin. "How long until she's in heat, did you say?"
"Apparently not as long as I thought." Ray simulated a glare at his sister, but Fraser would have bet there was only affection in the pack-sense. He didn't need to be able to perceive it to tell that much.
"Ah."
Ray reached out across the table and laid one hand atop Fraser's. His fingers were warm. Fraser couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him, really touched him, and already he thought he could become accustomed to this.
"You are welcome, though," Ray said, softly. "You know. If you want."
Fraser finally let himself smile back at Ray, as Dief, with a burst of joy, slid under the table to hop up next to Blanche. They were all happy. They could all be happy here. A pack.
"I want," he said, and Ray smiled.
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Author: Sineala
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG
Length: 1800 words
Contains: Nothing needing content advisories.
Spoilers: AU, set shortly after "Burning Down the House."
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Summary: Even in a world where police officers bond psychically with wolves, Fraser's bond with his wolfbrother is unique, leaving them isolated, shunned by most wolves. It isn't until he meets Ray Kowalski that Fraser realizes he might not be entirely unwelcome.
Notes: Happy Lupercalia! This is for the third annual Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia challenge. I have tried to write a different fandom every year so far. This one feels kind of like cheating. Thanks to everyone who helped me name Ray's wolfsister. (Also available on AO3 here.)
"So," Ray said, as they each slid into their own sides of the restaurant's booth, "I think that you and me, Fraser, we need to have a talk about wolves."
Blanche, with her brindled coat nearly as spiky as Ray's hair, jumped up on the sagging, torn-open vinyl bench next to Ray, eagerly crowding him, while Diefenbaker, obviously still feeling himself unwelcome with this new pair, sat patiently by Fraser's feet, on the floor near the end of the booth. Fraser watched Ray's fingers point back and forth at both of them as he talked -- you and me -- with only a glum resignation. He knew what Ray was going to say. He knew what they always said. It had been one of the first things Ray Vecchio had asked, of course. He hadn't meant anything by it. They never did. But Ray and his brother had hurt them, just the same. Everyone did. Even Ray, at first, even though he'd apologized later, even though they'd become the best of friends. The real Ray Vecchio. The phrase sounded familiar even as he thought it.
("And finally, Lieutenant," he'd said so triumphantly to Welsh, not three days ago, "the real Ray Vecchio has a wolfbrother, and this man quite obviously has a wolfsister."
Welsh had rolled his eyes, disgusted, and his sister had growled at them from under the desk. "Of course he's not Ray Vecchio, Constable.")
Fraser drew himself up and tried to pretend that he didn't know what was coming. "What about wolves?"
"Well, you know," Ray said, and then stopped and looked away, running his hand through his hair. This did not clarify matters. "I mean -- hey, knock it off! Sandor's gonna kick us out for good if you eat another one of his tables, mutt."
Blanche, who had been idly mouthing at the chipped Formica table, lifted her head and snorted in disdain.
"No, Ray," said Fraser, patiently. "I don't know."
Ray turned one long-fingered hand palm-up, pleading. "Of course you do."
Several frozen seconds passed.
"I'm afraid I really don't."
He didn't know why he was pressing Ray. Some twisted part of him wanted to hear Ray say it, to wound him, to have it be over with.
Finally, Ray took pity on him. "I don't know how they do things in the Northwest Areas, Fraser, but here in America when a cop has a new partner, and said cop also has a wolfsister, and his new partner has a wolfbrother, sometimes, just sometimes, people make certain assumptions about that cop's-- about his--"
Oh. Oh.
Fraser felt his face heat up, and he entirely missed several sentences of Ray's explanation.
Well, that was different. Fraser suspected that this was the standard conversation other wolf-bonded law enforcement personnel had with each other, instead of the one they always had with him.
He'd never-- no one had ever-- they'd always assumed that Dief wouldn't, or couldn't, or that their bitch would reject him out of hand if he'd ever wanted to try for one of the breedings. That was at least better than the people who said to his face to keep Dief away when their bitch was in heat. Poor Diefenbaker, always unsuitable.
No one had ever assumed he, or Dief, would be interested.
Hastily, he refocused his attention on Ray, who seemed by now to be recounting some involved tale of his adolescent discovery of his sexual orientation.
"--so I wondered, hey, was I bisexual? Or did I just like David Bowie? Ziggy Stardust," he clarified, incomprehensibly. "That'll turn anyone queer. Anyway, I'm not saying I wouldn't be up for it, if you wanted, if the two of you wanted, the next time Blanche's in heat, but, you know, just ask first." He sighed, shaking his head, his expression one of infinite exhaustion. "Do you know how much shit I have taken from guys who just assumed that me and Blanche would let them do whatever they wanted, even when she's not in heat, because she's a bitch? That would be all the shit, Fraser. All the shit ever. And it sucks."
"I'm sorry," Fraser said, automatically, not thinking about what he was saying, still stuck on how Ray was treating it all so... normally. As if they were like anyone else. As if they could be.
"But, hey," said Ray, perking up a little, "Blanche thinks you smell all right for a human, and she says she likes Dief, and speaking for myself here, honestly, you're pretty hot, so--" Ray stopped, suddenly. He seemed finally to have taken notice that Fraser hadn't said anything. "Fraser? Aww, geez, am I coming on too strong? Stella, my ex-wife, she always used to say I had a problem with that. Fuck. Forget I said anything."
"No, no!" Fraser said, hastily, before Ray could castigate himself further. "It's-- it's perfectly fine, really." Ray's face relaxed infinitesimally. "It's just that... I wasn't expecting you to say that, when you said we had to talk."
"Then what?"
"I thought," Fraser said, swallowing hard, "that you were going to ask about Dief. About me."
"What about you and Dief? I don't understand."
Ray sounded honestly confused. He didn't know? How could he not know?
They both glanced down at the wolf. Dief wagged once.
"I thought you were going to let me know you were shutting us out of your end of the pack-sense." Fraser closed his eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Fraser." When he opened his eyes again, Ray had both his arms around Blanche along with half of his torso, as if protecting her from the very idea of it; her hackles were up and Ray's face had gone white. "You're my partner. My partner. Why the fuck would I do that?"
"Everyone else does," he said, and Dief whimpered. "They always have." Ray Vecchio had let him back in -- the first one ever -- and he had been so grateful for it. He knew better than to expect mercy twice. Even if Ray was looking at the two of them now as if horrified that they might leave him.
"What? Why?"
"Diefenbaker is deaf." The statement fell baldly from his lips. There was no sense in being euphemistic about it.
Ray frowned and glanced down at Dief. "Deaf? But he looks like he's hearing me just fine. Hey, Dief?" Ray's voice was uncertain, but one pale ear of Dief's swiveled to listen, perking up at the sound of his own name. As always.
"Not auditorily deaf. He can hear and understand you quite well, believe me."
"Then what--?"
Fraser sighed. "Psychically. He's deaf to the pack-sense. He can't hear it. Because he can't, I can't either. He can broadcast to it, I've been told, but he can't perceive it. The same is true of our bond: I can hear him in my mind, but he can't hear me in his." There. That was it.
A deformation of the true lupine bond, they'd told him at Depot. Break it, and find a real wolf.
I want Dief, he'd said, and he knew then that he'd just destroyed his career.
Ray blinked once. Twice. "You can't sense the pack at all?"
Fraser shook his head. "Not in the slightest."
"So if I do this--" Ray's eyes narrowed, in that way Fraser had come to associate with people trying their hardest to think at him. "No, huh?"
"Sorry."
Ray's mouth curved; the smile was sad. "That's gotta be rough."
"It is what it is, Ray." He held out his hands, helplessly. "As I was saying, most wolf-bonded people I have worked with choose to eject us from the pack-sense entirely; they find it distressing to associate with a wolf and human who cannot receive them. I'm surprised Blanche didn't inform you." He was surprised, too, that Ray had not noticed it himself, but he kept that thought private -- or at least, he thought he did. He had been told that Dief could push his thoughts into the pack-sense for him, but with the deafness, he could never tell if Dief had.
"I thought you were just being private." Ray shrugged. "Some guys are like that." Maybe he had heard Fraser's thought after all. "Some wolves are like that."
"I wouldn't be offended if you turned us away," Fraser said, not daring to hope for more. Hope only hurt. "I would understand completely."
Now Ray's expression turned fierce, his lips parted, and his sister's jaw opened in a snarl, revealing shining white teeth. Fraser steeled himself.
"Did I not make myself understood, Fraser? Hell, no!" He sounded sickened, appalled at the thought. "Unless you two actually want out of it, you're staying in the pack-sense! I wouldn't fucking do that to anyone. And I want you there. We want you there."
There was a white blur of movement, and then Dief was off the floor, onto the seat, scrambling into Fraser's arms, bright-eyed and quivering with happiness: Fraser could read that as clear as anything. Yes yes yes, Dief said, tail wagging furiously, I like him, brother, I like them, yes!
Ray laughed. "I think the whole world heard that." Blanche yipped an agreement.
"You really mean that?" He hated himself for asking, but he had to be sure. He had to know that Ray wasn't going to take it back.
Ray grinned. "Fraser. I'm a freak. I'm a queer cop with a wolfsister and the last time I dyed my hair I gave Blanche a blond stripe to match. I got no standing to judge. Dief's a wolf. You're his brother. If you want to be in our weird little pack, you are welcome to join. More than welcome." He coughed. "Maybe it's better that you didn't hear what else Blanche just said you were welcome to." He motioned vaguely at himself, downward, in the direction of -- oh.
"Oh, dear." Fraser looked away, only to see Blanche grinning a shameless lupine grin. "How long until she's in heat, did you say?"
"Apparently not as long as I thought." Ray simulated a glare at his sister, but Fraser would have bet there was only affection in the pack-sense. He didn't need to be able to perceive it to tell that much.
"Ah."
Ray reached out across the table and laid one hand atop Fraser's. His fingers were warm. Fraser couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him, really touched him, and already he thought he could become accustomed to this.
"You are welcome, though," Ray said, softly. "You know. If you want."
Fraser finally let himself smile back at Ray, as Dief, with a burst of joy, slid under the table to hop up next to Blanche. They were all happy. They could all be happy here. A pack.
"I want," he said, and Ray smiled.
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