Due South fanfic - Backwards Psychology
Finished, just under the wire!
For the last day of karaokegal's Come As You're Not Halloween party, I present...
Title: Backwards Psychology
Author: Akuni
Universe: Due South
Genre: post-CotW, Romance, Drama, first time
Rating: R
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Spoilers: entire series
Word Count: 8115
Summary: Fraser and Dief are at odds, and Ray tries to help.
Disclaimer: I do not own Due South, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: Please ask if you want to share it. :)
Dedication: To the wonderful DS community, whose members have built one of the best fandoms I’ve ever seen. And for annieroo2, for letting me drag her kicking and screaming through some new/old fandoms (I really will get Jim and Blair to go camping, someday!).
A/N: I had such a blast writing this story. It’s been a while since I’ve had a story idea hit me so hard and so fast, but it’s gratifying to know that even after a break in writing, it’ll still always come back.
Many thanks to moshesque for her usual excellent behind-the-scenes efforts. Calling her my beta doesn’t come close to encompassing all she does for me. :) Thanks also to annieroo2 for the brainstorming and hand-holding sessions.
Special thanks to sageness, who wields a wonderful red pencil and did her best to offer guidance for writing in this fandom. Any missteps that remain are not for her lack of trying to steer me right. :)
Backwards Psychology
“Another stakeout?” Ray thumped his head down on his desk. “Jesus, I’m getting too old for this.” He ignored the creak of his knees agreeing as he pushed himself out of his chair. “C’mon, I need coffee if we’re gonna be out all night again.”
Fraser dropped his hat on Ray’s desk, and his even bootsteps followed Ray to the break room. Any minute now, any minute, and he was going to-
“All that coffee on an empty stomach can’t be good for you. You should eat something.”
Yep, there it was. Spinning on his heel, Ray rolled his eyes as he walked backward into the room. “Yeah I know that Fraser, so spare me the lecture on the health benefits of blubber and lichen, okay?” He began filling two paper cups with murky black coffee.
“Well now I was under the impression you’d finally gotten used to pemmican.” Fraser’s deadpan delivery was accompanied by that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile he’d let slip more and more since they’d returned to Chicago after their arctic adventure. Figured the guy would thaw out in subzero temperatures; Fraser never did anything the normal way.
“That was up in Fraserville. This,” Ray waved his arm around grandly, “is America, and the four major food groups for American cops are caffeine, pizza, beer, and anything from a vending machine.” He glanced at the row of machines, then shook his head as his empty stomach flipped over; not today, not even to make a point.
Fraser rubbed his brow and Ray could practically see him hold back a sigh. “So it would seem.”
Grinning, Ray tore the tops off three packets of sugar at once and emptied them into his cup as he stirred. “Lucky for you, though, I’m familiar with the proper care and feeding of Canadian Mounties.” He glanced up at the wall clock and considered how long it’d take to get through the evening rush hour. “We got just enough time to take Dief home and hit the deli.”
A sharp bark rose up from under a table. “I meant, we got time to hit the deli and then take Dief home,” Ray said toward the table. Yeah right the wolf was deaf.
Dief crawled out from under the table, nails clicking. He sat on Ray’s foot and whuffed at him, tongue hanging out of his mouth in what Ray would swear was a smile.
“Really Ray, you shouldn’t spoil him.”
“What, he’s a hard-working cop just like you and me. He deserves to eat good food.” That earned another bark and a swish of Dief’s tail over his boot. Ray looked down and winked as he worked plastic lids onto the coffee cups.
Fraser frowned. “Yes, well, he’s also a half-wolf who should be more concerned with how soft he’s getting and spend less time hunting roast beef sandwiches.” Dief pointed his muzzle at Fraser and emitted a warbling howl. “Of course I realize this is not your natural habitat, and that when in Rome-that’s not the point.”
Ray tuned out the rest of the one-sided discussion as he led the way out. By the time he’d unlocked the car, Fraser had fallen silent and his jaw was set. Dief ignored Fraser as he held the passenger seat back for him as usual, instead dashing around to Ray’s side and looking pointedly at the driver’s side door. Ray shot an amused look at Fraser over the roof as he opened his door and let Dief into the back.
“I’m sorry about that, I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately,” Fraser said as he settled himself in the passenger seat. “His behaviour this week has been appalling.” Dief flopped down on the backseat, landing with a hard thump. “Well it has, there’s no point sulking, Diefenbaker.”
“So he’s been in a mood, huh?”
“If only it were that simple.”
“What’d he do this time?”
“Oh what hasn’t he done?” Fraser fussed with his hat as Ray started the car and pulled out into traffic. “He’s been impossible; he dug holes in the Consulate lawn, chewed the corner of my bedroll, and he…” Finally he set his hat on the dash and laced his fingers together. “He urinated on the carpet in the Regal Suite. And his language, well, it doesn’t bear repeating.”
“He pissed in the Queen’s bedroom?” Ray flicked his eyes up at the rear view mirror, but Dief was lying with his back to them. “Christ on a cracker, Fraser, what’d you do to him?”
Fraser actually blinked. “What did I do?”
“Well something put that kink in his tail.” Absently, he flipped off a guy in a beat-up Chevy who tried to cut him off at the light; yeah right, as if. Ray glanced over at Fraser, taking in the rigid posture and tightly clenched fingers. “You didn’t say the V-word again, did you?”
“No, Diefenbaker’s not due at the vet for several months yet.”
“Huh.” Another glance, and Ray let it drop for the time being. They continued to the deli in silence, and Fraser didn’t say anything when Ray ordered and paid for a plain roast beef on white along with his own pastrami and mustard on rye; Fraser just stood there making polite with the guy at the counter and wearing a poker face they’d envy in Vegas.
When they pulled up outside the tenement where Fraser’d taken an apartment, Dief finally roused. He uncurled himself, stretched, shook half a dog’s worth of hair all over the back seat, then stuck his nose behind Ray’s left ear.
“No licking,” Ray warned, turning to make sure Dief could see to read his lips and couldn’t claim deafness, and meeting a broad swipe from a warm, wet tongue.
“Aw geez, right on the mouth. Thanks a lot, Dief, that’s just… ugh!” He got out of the car, Dief bounding out behind him. “Here.” Ray tossed the bag with the roast beef sandwich, watching as it was caught up in quick wolf jaws.
“He likes you, I’ve told you before.”
Dief’s bark was muffled by the paper bag clenched between his teeth.
Ray dragged his sleeve across his mouth. “Yeah okay, can he like me with a little less slobber, maybe without slipping me the tongue? That’s not why I bought him dinner.”
Both of Fraser’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline before he even reached to scratch them. “I’ll, er, speak to him about that.”
“You do that.” Finding a crumpled napkin in one pocket, Ray swiped at his face again as he waited for Fraser to settle Dief inside.
*
Stakeout was dullsville. Nothing had happened all day, and all signs pointed to nothing happening all night, either. As soon as Huey and Dewey left, Ray unwrapped his dinner and resigned himself to getting a sore back for nothing. At least the company was good - or it would be, once he figured out what was eating a hole in the wolf’s bag of marbles and driving Fraser more insane than usual.
“So what’s with you two lately?” Ray asked as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. “You and Dief have been fighting non-stop since we got back from Canada.”
“We haven’t been fighting.”
“Sorry Frase, but you two’ve been bickering like somebody’s parents. That there was the third argument you’ve had in as many days.”
“It was a discussion.”
“Argument.”
“Debate.”
“Argument.”
“Difference of-”
“Argument.”
Fraser sighed. “Argument.”
“And he won.”
“Well…”
“You lost an argument with a dog, Fraser.”
“Yes, thank you, no need to rub it in.” Fraser tugged intently at the cuffs of his jacket.
Ray leaned back and stretched his legs out as far as they would go. “So okay, what were you arguing about?”
Fraser ducked his head, then turned to stare out the window at the utterly uninteresting warehouse. “He doesn’t belong here.”
“What?”
“When we’re here, it’s easy to forget his true nature. After our trip, I’ve come to realize he belongs on the tundra, chasing arctic hare not mooching doughnuts. He’d be better off pulling a sled instead of chasing bank robbers with us.”
Whoa, this was serious. Fraser was trying to… what, get rid of Dief? With carefully casual movements, Ray straightened up in his seat. “Maybe,” he said slowly. This was dangerous territory, treading way too close to ground that they simply did not tread. He turned to study Fraser’s shadowed profile. “Creature of the north, I get that.”
“That’s precisely my point. Bringing him here… the longer he spends here the harder it will be for him to ever go home.” Fraser made a sharp motion with one hand, then dropped both hands in his lap. “What’s worse is he doesn’t seem to care.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “At least you agree with me.”
“Didn’t say that.” Thinking hard, Ray ran his thumb over his throat, scraping idly at the stubble with his nail. “Could say the same thing about you, though, and you’re here.”
An inexplicable flush rose on Fraser’s neck as he bent his head. “That’s… not the same.” He began gathering up the trash from their dinner.
“Why not?”
“I had good reasons for coming back.”
“And Dief didn’t?”
“Well that’s just… Ray, he’s a wild animal.”
Ray snorted. “Yeah, wild for pizza.”
“That’s exactly why he should’ve stayed in the north,” Fraser stated, nodding and folding his arms.
“He’s a grown animal, Fraser, he can make his own choices just like you.” Ray squinted, giving Fraser his best ‘I’m a cop and you’re on thin ice’ stare. “But no one’s giving you grief about your choice to come back. Maybe he expects you to do him the same courtesy.”
The stubborn set of Fraser’s mouth as it opened was more warning than Ray needed; he plowed right on before Fraser could interrupt. “What happened to the big speech about Dief being your companion of his own free will? That he chooses to stay with you?” Ray poked two fingers into Fraser’s shoulder. “That’s not right, Frase, not even a little. What if he told you to get lost and go home, huh?”
Fraser’s mouth closed with a snap. “I… that is… Hmm.”
Ray let him mull that over for a few minutes while he peered into the gloom around the warehouse. Staring at each grimy, empty window in turn, he wondered how Fraser was missing the boat on this one. If Ray didn’t know better he’d say Fraser was being deliberately dense. But the answer to that hit way too close to what they’d determinedly and successfully avoided for months.
No movement inside the warehouse, and the alleys were still deserted. Ray wondered if he’d made a mistake in pushing it. Things had been going fine, and he was a big believer in not trying to fix what wasn’t broken. Ray knew there was something, and he knew Fraser knew there was something, too, but it was never the right time to think about it. It was always too complicated; undercover, under fire, underwater even, hell they’d been through it all and come out the other side together. But Ray was afraid this might be what would break them.
Too many things too long unspoken had almost crowded them right out of their tent and onto the ice. Only the constant effort required to keep pushing along the trail kept Ray from blowing it all away. Don’t ask, don’t tell, he chanted in his head at night when he fell asleep listening to the soft breathing next to him in the dark, and woke up with it on his brain in the morning when he woke curled tight and warm against Fraser’s side. He already had more than he had a right to expect, and if Fraser didn’t want to cross that bridge they’d built between them, for whatever reason, then there was no way in hell Ray was going to push it.
And Fraser was shut up tighter than a clam around this big shiny pearl, so Ray clung to his mantra and maintained that perfect silence around the single thing in the world he couldn’t talk to his partner about.
Only, silence didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Not with Fraser sitting there gnawing his own liver, shutting down on one of the few people - creatures, beings, whatever - who hadn’t left him, and for the dumbest reasons.
Fraser was far too quiet, the furrows between his eyes growing deeper, and god only knew what crazy corner he was thinking himself into.
Ray couldn’t risk banging his head on the steering wheel, but oh did he want to. Fraser’s ridiculous tendency to put everything on the planet ahead of himself equalled some seriously dumb moves on Fraser’s part, like pushing Dief away ‘for his own good’.
Maybe maintaining radio silence with Ray was another pre-emptive strike against whatever it was he was afraid was going to happen. Which was just dumb, because weren’t they both sick to death of being alone?
Oh.
It took every trick Ray knew to keep his hands from shaking.
Radio silence was stupid, anyway.
“But hey, maybe you’re right,” Ray said, as if the conversation hadn’t paused. Leaning his left arm on the steering wheel, he propped his head on his hand. “Arctic wolves don’t really belong on the streets of Chicago.”
Nodding, Fraser slumped back against the door, visibly standing down for the first time all day, but he still didn’t look at all relaxed. “No, they don’t.”
Guilt wriggled in Ray’s gut, and he wasn’t quite sure whether it was because of the words he was forcing out of his mouth or because those words held a pretty big seed of truth. “Canadian Mounties don’t belong on the streets of Chicago, either.”
That furrow between Fraser’s eyes was turning into the Grand Canyon. “Ah…”
“You’re as much a creature of the north as he is. I’ve never seen you happier than I did when you were neck-deep in snow or mushing along that ‘one warm line’.” He paused, watching Fraser actually flinch at the reference, and then he fired his final shot. “You don’t belong here, Benton Fraser. You should go home.”
Ray had read about stuff like blood draining out of someone’s face, but he’d never seen it truly happen before. Now, though, he really could see it, even by the dim glow of the streetlights, but it was more like someone threw a bucket of whitewash on Fraser. His eyes went wide in his suddenly too-pale face, and his mouth curved down in an unhappy line before he lowered his head.
“Oh. I suppose… well, perhaps… I didn’t realize you…”
Shit, he’d done this all wrong. It was too bad you couldn’t kick yourself in the head. “No, look Frase, that’s not it, you-” Ray slammed his fist onto his thigh. “I said it wrong.”
“I think you’ve been very clear.”
“No, I was trying to make a point-”
A woman’s sharp scream rang out, followed immediately by two loud gunshots.
“Wonderful fucking timing. We are not done here,” Ray said firmly as he snatched up the radio. Fraser was already out of the car and down the alley by the time Ray had called it in and confirmed that backup was on the way.
Swearing under his breath, he dug his glasses out of his jacket pocket and jammed them on his face as he ran to catch up, early autumn chill biting at his exposed skin. Very little light reached this side of the alley, but he could just make out Fraser’s dark-clad form ahead. Thank god Fraser wasn’t wearing the uniform tonight. Ray had no luck convincing him to leave it off during their regular shifts, so he’d resigned himself to the future ulcers. At least it made Fraser easy to find in a fight, so Ray would never have to miss out on having his life endangered in new and exciting ways.
At the end of the alley, Fraser actually stopped and waited until Ray was right next to him, then leaned in close. “I see movement in the left corner window,” he murmured, his breath stirring the hairs on Ray’s neck. “According to the blueprint we studied this afternoon, I believe that’s the main office.”
Ray shook off an inappropriate shiver and rubbed the fog off his lenses. He still couldn’t see anything in the windows, but he wasn’t about to question Fraser’s eagle eyes. “Go in or wait?” He held in a breath and sneaked a look around the corner, then whipped his head back as the side door of the warehouse banged open.
Around the corner, scuffling footsteps and the sound of an argument heading for a violent end took the choice away from them.
“How many?” Ray mouthed silently as he drew his gun. Pressed flat against the scummy wall, Fraser was warm and solid beside him, his heat as reassuring now as it was on cold northern nights. Maybe he didn’t technically belong here, but here just wouldn’t be the same without him.
Fraser cocked his head. After a moment, he held up three fingers. Ray pointed two fingers at himself, then waved out toward the warehouse. Fraser nodded, and stepped quietly across the alley.
As far as plans went, it was pretty straightforward. Ray yelled, “Chicago PD, everybody freeze!” as Fraser rolled out of the alley, scooping up a dirty brick and a splintered chunk of wood as he dove behind a pile of broken pallets and empty barrels just ahead of a spray of bullets. Echoes of metal pings bounced dully down the alley while splinters exploded from the debris.
Ducking out from the mouth of the alley, Ray noted the positions of three men in the weak light spilling from the open warehouse door. He zeroed in on one of the shooters, a hulking guy with a bad bowl cut; one shot took the gun straight out of his hand. A second guy, another big bruiser, threw himself to the side, firing wildly.
Ray spun back around the corner and crouched low, listening hard.
“Ow, fucking bastard, shot my hand!”
“Actually, I’m quite certain the detective’s parents were married at the time of his birth.”
“What?” asked a thick voice, right before a meaty thunk and a low groan.
Ray couldn’t help but grin as he stood up and dashed out of the alley again. “I said freeze, that means do not move or bad things will happen to you!”
The bruiser was sprawled in the dirt next to Fraser’s brick, apparently unconscious. Bowl cut guy was scrambling away on his knees, clutching his hand to his chest, but he didn’t get far before Fraser sprang out from behind the junk pile and tackled him.
The third guy actually threw his hands in the air and froze. Ray was so shocked, he took a step back and wondered if the guy was maybe wired. He held his gun on him steadily. “On the ground, hands on your head!” In the distance, he heard the wail of approaching sirens.
The guy complied, shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. He looked like an accountant or something, with a seriously receding hairline. “You got a piece?” Ray snapped. “You got a piece on you, you make it easy and tell me right now, ’cause I’ll find it anyway.”
“N-no, I’m unarmed. Please don’t shoot me!” The guy was almost panting, each quick puff steaming.
“You just lie still there and I won’t have to.” The guy seemed truly terrified, offering no protest as Ray messed up his already rumpled tan suit patting him down, and he just stood there as Ray cuffed him and read him his rights. That wasn’t exactly unheard of, but usually Ray had to work a little harder to get the bad guys to literally shake. “You got those two okay, Fraser?” he called over his shoulder.
“Everything’s under control, Ray, thank you.”
Fuck. A glacier of politeness, that was just what they needed to make it perfect. “Look,” Ray began, “that got all screwed up back there. You got me all wrong.”
The sirens were still screaming as more cops poured in through the alley. “More great timing. This night just keeps getting better,” he grumbled, holstering his gun.
Ray directed a handful of the newcomers to the warehouse. He let the uniforms deal with the muscle, and hauled the scared guy up off the ground and pushed him down the alley toward the GTO. Fraser followed mutely, brushing alley dirt off his arms.
Jesus, that stick had gone even further up his ass. Ray caught his own pinch-faced reflection in the car window and snarled under his breath as he yanked the door open and stuffed the scared accountant in the back before throwing himself into his seat.
*
“This is the guy?” Through the glass, Ray watched the man in the tan suit slump over the table with his head in his hands. “He’s it?”
Welsh nodded. “Yeah, he’s the guy. He refused a lawyer and sang like a bird before Huey even got the door closed.”
“He’s really an accountant?”
“Yeah. He and the owner’s wife were in it together. At first they were just skimming off the top, but then she got the bright idea of using her husband’s shipping company - he was the dead guy on the floor - to move drugs across the country.” Welsh stared at their distraught prisoner. “I don’t think he was ready for what happened in there tonight.”
“Heh. Least he’s not deranged, huh Frase?”
Not even the ghost of a smile touched Fraser’s lips. “I’m not sure a man who ties his employer’s wife to a chair and stands by while his nefarious underlings shoot her husband is entirely sane.”
Ray shoved his hands under his arms to keep from redecorating the walls with his fists. “Right. Okay, a little deranged, just not actively rampaging, then.”
Still nothing, not even a polite nod. Fuck fuck. What now? It’d taken forever before they’d finally cleared the scene, and the hours since their interrupted conversation had only made things worse.
“You did good work tonight, gentleman. These guys aren’t going anywhere, so you go home and get some rest. Come back tomorrow to finish the paperwork.” Welsh rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Later today. As long as you’re in by lunchtime.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks Lieu.” Ray jerked his head toward the door. “C’mon Fraser, I’ll take you-” He swallowed the word ‘home’ with a wince. “I’ll get you back to the wolf.”
During the silent walk back to the car, Ray tried to figure out how to break down the wall of ice Fraser had thrown up and make him understand the point Ray’d been trying to make in the first place. Fraser, the idiot, was right now thinking Ray actually wanted him to leave.
Just the thought made Ray’s stomach turn over sickeningly. Stakeouts just wouldn’t be the same without hearing the adventures of Trapper Joe and the best way to dry caribou meat, or teaching Fraser to appreciate the poetry of ‘London Calling’. He’d have to work with some wet-behind-the-ears rookie - or worse, a jaded veteran just clocking time ’til retirement, and with his luck, he’d get someone with a sense of humour like Dewey.
No more wolf spit in his ears, sure, but no more wolf fur warming his toes under his desk on cold days, either, and all for the low-low price of one stale doughnut. No more late night hockey and pizza. No more debates on the merits of turtle ownership.
No more best friend he could count on for absolutely fucking anything.
No more duet. No more Fraser.
No way.
He didn’t want to do this in the car. For once, Fraser’s stony silence came in useful, because if he uttered even a single word, Ray was going to start talking until everything spilled out, and that would be a disaster. He wrapped his hands firmly around the steering wheel, thumbs tapping an impatient rhythm as they hit every red light on the way.
Ray’s stomach lurched again when he pulled up outside Fraser’s building. Before Fraser could thank him kindly for the ride and skedaddle, Ray laid a firm hand on Fraser’s arm. “I need to explain,” he said in a low voice. “You gotta let me do this right. Please.”
For the first time in hours, Fraser looked him square in the face. His eyes looked… sad, and tired, but Ray couldn’t stop now, couldn’t take the risk that he’d wake up tomorrow and find Fraser was already halfway to Tuktoyaktuk. “All right.”
It took effort to follow Fraser calmly down the hall to his door and wait patiently to be let in. Ray stopped just inside the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Fraser hung up his hat and jacket and checked on Dief. For his part, Dief simply looked up and whuffed when they walked in and then returned to his position curled up on his fat armchair. Ray wandered into the living room, absently patting Dief as he wondered how to explain.
When he and Fraser finally settled on the couch it was at opposite ends. Ray glared at the middle cushion, its plump emptiness mocking the unusual distance between them; the sofa was a good size, but the television Fraser had bought the first weekend after he’d moved in was small, and they inevitably wound up sitting in the middle, eating pizza right over the box as they watched the game.
Better to just get it over with. Ray smacked his palms down against his knees and took a big breath. “Okay, I gotta say this, and you gotta listen, okay?”
“If you wish.”
He could do this. A failed marriage left a man with lots of practice at apologizing with both feet still stuck down his throat. “When I said you didn’t belong, I didn’t mean it.”
If a person could sit at attention, Fraser was doing it. “I don’t see why you’re making a big deal of this, Ray. You’re perfectly entitled to your opinion, and though I’d thought - well assumed, I suppose - that after everything, our partnership was worth-”
“Fraser!” Ray scrubbed his hands through his hair, almost glad of the sharp sting as his bracelet caught. “I didn’t mean that!”
“You didn’t mean it,” Fraser echoed flatly.
“No I did not mean it, you stubborn freak. I was trying to get you to see what a jerk you were being about Dief. Like, uh, backwards psychology. Only, it backfired all in my face.”
Fraser tugged at his ear as his eyes lost focus and he seemed to look through Ray, an act that sent cautious relief trickling over Ray’s jangled nerves.
“You were trying to use reverse psychology on me?”
“Yeah, that.”
“To demonstrate that my attitude toward Diefenbaker’s choice was somewhat less than sensible, and that my behaviour regarding the situation lacked appropriate perspective?”
“Er, if that means you were treating Dief like a regular pet and not your wolfy companion, and generally acting like a bozo, then yeah.”
“Oh. I see…” A flash of pink as he skimmed his tongue over his bottom lip, and the bizarre notion that he was tasting the thought fluttered across Ray’s mind. “I see,” he repeated softly.
Ray waited for more, but Fraser just sat there, staring off into space, and something inside him snapped. He shot to his feet and began pacing. “No, I don’t think you do see, because if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting there all tense and polite. We do this every time, Frase, and I just don’t-I can’t…”
“Ray.”
The smarter part of his brain was screaming at him to shut the hell up, but something had tripped the emergency release on his brain-to-mouth filters, and everything he’d locked in a box marked ‘DANGER, DO NOT OPEN!’ and chucked down the well was spilling out all over the room.
“When are you gonna get that you don’t have to punish yourself anymore? I never met anyone so determined to be miserable. You want be here, then you should be here.”
“Ray.”
“You want you here, Dief wants you here, Welsh and the entire 2-7 wants you here, everyone fucking wants you here, Frase. I want you here, I fucking love that you’re here.” Ray punctuated this with a wild flap of his arms. “You’re my best friend since, like, ever, since Stella, you make this goddamn job fun when you’re not trying to get me drowned. But even after we’ve been through all this shit together, you still think I’d try to get rid of you.”
“Ray!”
“But I’m not gonna do that, I won’t make it that easy. I could never, and if you don’t get by now that you can’t ditch me without a fight I am fresh out of ways to prove it.” Something in that wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what, not with his heart thumping so hard he could hear his blood rushing in his ears.
“Ray!”
Ray spun on his heel. “What?!” He was surprised to find himself back in front of the couch, almost nose-to-nose with Fraser. When had Fraser stood up? And why was he looking so pleased when they were fighting?
“I want to be here.”
Ray froze. He blinked, running that over again in his mind. “Really?”
A weird smile played around Fraser’s mouth. “Yes, Ray. Really. Being your partner makes me happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”
“Oh. Okay, good.” Ray smiled back.
The weird smile grew wider. “Okay?”
Ray laughed, his frustration draining away. “Okay.” He fell back onto the couch, feeling more than a little stupid but strangely elated at the same time. Even his fingers were tingling.
Fraser settled next to him and they sat in silence, a little awkward but not really uncomfortable, and it was all Ray could do not to jitter right off the couch. After a quick glance, he caught Fraser fidgeting, too, picking imaginary lint off the spotless-as-usual jeans. Ray wasn’t sure whether to be relieved by that or totally freaked out.
Ray dragged his hands through his hair again. “So… we good here?”
“Yes, I believe we are.”
“Good, ’cause now I’m wired,” Ray admitted. Glancing over at Fraser, he grinned. “I should lay off the coffee, I guess.”
Fraser grinned back at him then, an honest-to-god grin, teeth and all. “I think that would be a good idea.”
“Think I could learn to love bark tea?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
It shouldn’t be possible to be this tired and this jazzed, but Ray’s stupid body was ready to dance, and he was pretty sure the coffee had nothing to do with it. The heat pooling in his gut put a whole new flavour on the energy zinging through him, the tension in his muscles just waiting for the something that Ray knew and that Ray knew Fraser knew, too.
The something they didn’t even think about because it could screw up their friendship, but now they had to think about it because not thinking about it had almost ruined things twice now anyway - and Ray really, really sucked at this stuff. He had no clue what he was doing. Freaking out was looking more and more likely.
“So, uh, you want to go out? Early breakfast?” Ray blurted, scrubbing his palms on his jeans. A flash of white caught his attention, and he saw Dief’s ears standing up, bright wolfy eyes gazing at him hopefully.
“I must confess that after all the excitement tonight, my stomach seems to have quite forgotten it had supper.” Fraser eyed him steadily, then slowly licked his lip. “I’d prefer to stay in, though, if it’s all the same to you.”
Dief’s ears fell; Ray smothered a laugh. “Sure Frase, that’s okay, I’ll just-”
“I could cook,” Fraser offered quickly, pushing up his sleeves. Dief flicked his tail, which Ray thought maybe meant he was calculating the likelihood of getting a share of the goods versus a scoop of dry kibble in his dish, and oh hell he was really sunk if he was starting to understand the wolf.
“Or we could order in,” Fraser continued, clearly unaware of Ray’s mental detours. “I’m fine with whatever you would like, provided it’s not pizza. I’m sure Dief has an opinion,” he added, with a wave toward the armchair.
Dief sat up quickly, his whole posture radiating innocence. “Yes I see you,” Fraser chided. “I’m not blind, you know, and it takes considerably more effort to sneak up on an alert Mountie than it does to ambush an unattended croissant.”
With a noise that sounded faintly offended, Dief hunkered back down in his chair.
“You’re not going to get on his case again, are you?” Ray reached forward and grabbed a handful of take-out menus off the thin coffee table. Not a lot of choices at two in the morning, but someone was always open.
“No more so than usual,” Fraser replied wryly. “Your… insight has given me cause to rethink that situation, among others.”
What the hell did that mean, rethinking situations? “What’s your poison?” he asked, holding up a fan of menus. Jesus, was it all going to hell already? Was he going to get a very sensible speech about not risking the friendship before he even said a-
Fraser slid over onto the middle cushion, flattening the mocking right out of it, and tipped the menus back with one finger, leaning in to peer over their tops. “They’re all good. I’ve learned to trust your judgement on matters of late-night Chicago dining.”
Oh. Oh god. That dull thumping was his heart, Ray realized, beating so loud and so hard again that he wanted to put his hand on his chest to see if it was really as noticeable as it felt. He picked two red menus at random and threw the rest back down on the table. “Whatcha think, Dief, Indian or, uh…” He twisted his wrist so he could read the fronts. “Or Korean?”
Dief barked, and Fraser nodded. “I’m not sure we really need extra dumplings, but barbequed short ribs do sound tasty.”
“Ribs, got it.” Ray dug into his pocket for his phone, head buzzing with shock and anticipation and god only knew what else. He placed an order for ribs and dumplings and some other stuff, but he couldn’t remember two seconds after he hung up what he’d ordered or how much it was going to cost. It must have been all right, though, since Fraser was smiling at him again and Dief wasn’t howling the place down.
“Excellent choices, Ray.”
Oh good. “No sweat.” Now if he could just get his blood pressure down before he stroked out or did something supremely dumb…
“At the risk of making another ill-advised assumption… well no.” Fraser cleared his throat. “If what I’m about to say oversteps the bounds of our friendship, please forgive me. I don’t wish to offend.” He looked Ray straight in the eyes, his gaze intense and gripping. “I’ve come to realize that I’m more like my father than I knew. I’m not always good at letting people know how…well, letting them know that they’re important. To me, to my life.”
Ray bit his tongue to keep from interrupting, and only bobbed his head to show he was listening.
“I want you to know, Ray, I would never ‘ditch you’.” The expression he wore was blindingly sincere. “I hope you know that.”
“I know that,” Ray said, his voice sounding rough and weird in his ears.
“I need you to know that.”
“I know.” And he did. He knew, and he knew Fraser knew, and now Fraser knew that he knew, too. He squeezed Fraser on the shoulder, then had to force himself to pull his hand back. If his fingers lingered a little too long or swept a little too firmly accidentally-on-purpose over Fraser’s arm, well, Fraser didn’t call him on it.
It was barely fifty degrees outside, and it wasn’t like Fraser would even think about turning the heat on until maybe Thanksgiving - the real, American one - but Ray felt flushed from head to toe. How was he supposed to think under these conditions? He shrugged out of his coat and stripped off his shoulder rig, dropping the harness and gun on the table and shoving the coat behind him into the corner of the couch.
That this put him several inches closer to the middle of the couch, where Fraser hadn’t budged a hair since moving closer, was just a slightly nerve-wracking coincidence.
Fraser cleared his throat. “May I ask you a question?”
It was hard to swallow with your mouth dried up like the Sahara, Ray discovered. “Sure.”
“Why did my mishandling of the situation with Diefenbaker evoke such a strong reaction?”
“Why’d you come back to Chicago?” Ray countered. Two could play the Big Questions game, especially when they both already knew the answers. It was stupid, but it was hard to be the first to back down once you’d started, and this was one of the biggest games of chicken Ray’d ever played in his life. And Ray was no chicken.
He was hot, though. Taking off his coat hadn’t helped. It was like sitting next to a campfire - his left side was cool, but the entire right side of his body was baking. All on its own, his thigh had ended up pressed tight against Fraser’s, and all the hairs on his arm were standing straight up, prickling with static every time Fraser’s bared forearm moved against it.
Then Fraser somehow found space to lean even closer. “Ray, I-”
This was happening, this was real. This was insane.
“Oh, fuck it.” Ray twisted in his seat, deliberately meeting and holding Fraser’s earnest blue gaze as he pressed his mouth solidly against Fraser’s. For one terrifying moment everything was still, then all at once Fraser’s arms came up around him and his lips parted around a soft, desperate sound.
In a flash, Ray dug his fingers into Fraser’s hair like they’d been twitching to do for ages. He closed his eyes and focused on the warm, rough lips matching his moves, the barest hint of slick tongue nudging against his own.
Just this much proved that none of his fantasies were going to be even close to the reality, and they’d been more than enough to get his motor running. This, though, this revved him to the redline and had his dick aching hard in seconds. Desperate to get closer, Ray tried to slide further down into the couch, tried to bring Fraser down over him, but Fraser’s fingers were digging hard into Ray’s shoulders, gripping him tightly and not letting him go.
Ray wrenched his mouth away and sucked in a huge breath. “Wait, just…” Shifting quickly, he wriggled one leg up and jammed it between Fraser and the back of the couch. “Okay, c’mon.” He grabbed Fraser’s arms and tried to pull him back down, but Fraser planted one hand on Ray’s chest and stayed put.
“Are you sure about this?” Fraser asked, his serious expression clashing with his wet, red mouth and lust-blown pupils.
It took a lot of effort for Ray not to answer with his body. “Absolutely. I am all over this like caribou on the tundra.”
“Oh thank god.” And then Fraser was all over him, legs fitting between his, hands skimming up Ray’s sides under his shirt, mouth diving to lick at Ray’s neck.
Ray grabbed him by the hips and brought Fraser flush against his own erection. This earned him a stinging suck that felt so damn good Ray did it again, harder, bucking wildly and choking out, “Holy shit, Fraser!” when Fraser actually fucking bit him.
He moaned when Fraser ground down against him, everything blanketed in a hot, needy haze. It was good, god it was better than good, it was the best sex he’d had in years, and if they didn’t stop in the next ten seconds he was going to come right in his pants. Though if Fraser’s deep groans were anything to go by, that wasn’t something he really had to worry about. Fraser seemed perfectly happy to continue along just as they were, rutting together fully clothed on his couch, and since it was his house, hey, Ray was more than willing to let him set the rules.
“Ray…” Fraser gasped against his ear, the queer hitch in his breath jolting Ray right in the pit of his stomach and that was it.
All the tension in Ray’s body zeroed to his groin and held for one endless moment before snapping and dropping him into orgasm. His body tried to curl as it shook, and he was dimly aware he was clutching Fraser hard, arms and legs wrapped around like an octopus while Fraser jerked and shuddered over him.
Drained, Ray pushed his face into Fraser’s neck, the rich scent of sweat clinging to the soft flannel under his cheek. He let out a satisfied hum, and a low chuckle rumbled against his chest.
“We still good?” he asked eventually.
“Absolutely.”
“’Kay.” Ray never wanted to move. Pretty soon he’d have to, though; already his joints were protesting his pretzel impression, and the mess in his pants - in his damn pants! - was starting to feel gross.
Urgent barking filled the air as Ray was trying to motivate himself to move. “What’s his problem?” he asked, craning his neck around to see over Fraser’s shoulder, realizing at he did so that he’d completely forgotten about Dief. “Jesus, we had sex in front of the wolf!”
Fraser pushed himself up hastily. “Oh dear,” he said, looking first at Dief, who leaped out of his chair and bounded over to the door, and then down at Ray. “Delivery.”
“Shit.” Ray scrambled off the couch and looked them both over. He’d do; his shirt was dark and long enough, and his hairstyle could only be helped by added chaos, but Fraser was a wreck. “I’m decent, I’ll get it,” he offered. “You can go…” He waved his hand up and down at Fraser’s sweaty, rumpled form. God he looked good, but he didn’t want to share the look of messy, just-got-laid Fraser with anyone.
“Right you are.” Already unbuttoning his shirt, Fraser disappeared into the bathroom just as there was a sharp rap at the door.
Ray forked over a handful of bills for the food and a huge tip, hoping that enough cash would keep the delivery guy coming back to the place that had a sex-stupid guy answering the door and a hungry wolf sniffing at his feet.
As he unpacked cartons of food onto the coffee table, Ray saw Dief looking hopefully at the television. “Yeah we’ve earned some tube time.” He switched it on and started surfing. For a guy who only watched television once in a blue moon, Fraser sure had a lot of channels… and when Ray’s sleepy brain processed that he couldn’t help the smile that stretched his face.
Dief woofed as he flicked past some black and white movie; he zapped back and Dief thumped his tail, so he left it. “You want to watch this?”
“Arooo!”
“Guess that means yes.”
“That’s very kind of you, Ray.” Fraser had emerged from the bathroom and was looking a whole lot tidier, and about as relaxed as Ray had ever seen him. “Diefenbaker has developed quite a taste for the Sci Fi Channel.”
Ray watched the screen sceptically. A giant rubber lizard was batting at a furry bug on a string. “He likes bad monster movies?”
“I’m afraid so. I can’t quite see the attraction, but it could’ve been much worse, so I don’t argue.”
“There’s a first,” Ray said with a grin, then tossed the remote and held up his hands. “Kidding, Frase,” he said quickly. A misstep now would be a hell of a lot harder to deal with.
Fraser shook his head, mouth quirked up on one side, and went into the kitchen area. “Please feel free to make use of the facilities,” he offered, pulling dishes out of a cupboard.
“Right, thanks.”
Naturally, there was a fresh towel and washcloth waiting for him on the bathroom counter. Ray snorted quietly, wondering if Fraser was just being Fraser, or if he’d made a point to learn good post-sex etiquette. Either way, he appreciated it.
It was a relief to strip down and clean up. He grimaced a bit when he pulled his clothes back on, but damp shorts were better than slimy shorts. A quick look in the mirror, one pass through his hair with wet hands, and he was as good as he was going to get.
When he returned, Fraser immediately began dishing out the food - onto three plates, Ray noted with some shock. He reclaimed his usual place on the couch, staring as Fraser placed one plate on the floor in front of Dief’s chair before settling next to Ray with his own.
They watched Godzilla stomp Japan while they ate Korean barbeque and drank strong black tea, the silence easy and uncomplicated despite the hugely complicating thing they’d just done. Ray didn’t usually go from zero to sixty on the first date, but he’d never been in love with a guy before, either, so a lot of things were probably different. Plus it wasn’t like he and Fraser didn’t know each other, it was almost like they’d been dating without the sex almost since they’d met. Geez, what a waste.
“I trust that was more to your liking than kibble?” Fraser asked drily as Dief noisily licked his plate clean. Dief plopped himself back in his chair and licked his chops. “Excellent. You’ll have plenty of energy for a nice long run in the morning, then.”
With a growl, Dief buried his nose in his paws, and Ray couldn’t hold in his laughter. “He should’ve seen that coming.” He stacked his own empty plate with Fraser’s and drained his mug. Huh. If you made it strong enough and sweet enough, the tea wasn’t so bad.
Ray propped himself up in the corner of the couch and tugged Fraser toward him, dropping one foot on the floor to make room. With a happy smile, Fraser leaned back against Ray’s torso and made himself comfortable. Throwing one arm behind his head, Ray draped the other over Fraser’s chest. Fraser linked his fingers with Ray’s and they lay there together quietly, listening to Godzilla vs. Mothra and Dief’s soft snores over the night sounds of Chicago.
It wasn’t awkward or strange at all, which was a little strange in itself. Some aspects of their partnership had clicked so easily right from the start, and others they’d had to fight for, literally with blood, sweat, and tears. If this was going to be one of those things that just worked, well, who were they to question a bit of good karma paying off?
Feeling warm and comfortable and content, Ray didn’t move when, a little while later, Fraser’s hand circled his wrist and turned it up.
“Good lord is that the time?”
“Huh?” Ray blinked at his watch. “Wow. Time flies when you’re having fun.” He yawned.
“We should sleep.” With reluctance Ray could feel, Fraser took his hands off Ray and sat up. “I know the bed is a bit small for two, but I think we could manage.”
Ray knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. “You inviting me to go to bed with you, Ben?” It was a gamble, but it paid off about a million to one. Fraser smiled again, and this time he was beaming, his entire face lighting up like thousand-watt bulb.
“Yes, I am.” Fraser wrapped his hand around the back of Ray’s neck and leaned close until they were nose to nose, his forehead resting lightly against Ray’s. “Come to bed with me, Ray.” His smooth voice was thick with open desire, but his eyes were saying even more, things like love and trust and home, and everything else Ray hadn’t dared hope for. But now he knew, and Fraser knew, and they both knew that they knew, and it was okay.
END
Why this is a costume: There are many parts to this costume, but the primary is that I’ve never written Due South fic before. I also tried not to be too rigid in my writing and go with a conversational narrative that I feel fits the character PoV.