Fic: Tailor-Made [dS, F/K]
I’ve been attacked by AUs; send help.
Title: Tailor-Made
Fandom/Pairing: due South, F/K
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~1900
Summary: Ray Kowalski agreed to do the tuxes for his ex-wife’s upcoming wedding. He was a tailor, after all, and it was the nice thing to do, even if her new guy was a bit of a dick, and Italian. He never expected to meet anyone like Benton Fraser. But then, no one ever expects to fall in love.
“Your fiancee’s ex-husband is making the tuxes?,” Fraser repeated.
“Or tailoring them, whatever it’s called,” Ray confirmed. “Apparently he said he wanted to, it would be his wedding present. They get along OK, I guess. I don’t really get it; me and Ang bite each other’s heads off whenever we see each other.”
“It’s admirable that they’ve remained friends,” Fraser responded.
“I suppose. As long as he keeps his hands off my girl.”
Fraser doubted that that would be a problem. Ray and Stella seemed well-suited, even though on the surface they weren’t that alike. They were fiercely loyal to each other, and Fraser respected that, even if he sometimes felt excluded by their coupledom. Ray was his dear friend, and he deserved every happiness.
###
Fraser held his hat in his hands as the glass door closed behind him with a jingle. Shortly, a man in his 60s came out from a back room and approached the counter. “How can I help ya?”
“Good evening. I’m looking for Mr. Kowalski,” Fraser said.
“Which one?,” the man asked.
Fraser paused. “Hmm.” He pulled the note on which Ray had scrawled the name and address out of inside his hat, and glanced at it. “I don’t believe Detective Vecchio specified a first name, unfortunately.”
“Vecchio?,” the guy repeated. “Ray Vecchio, Stella’s new guy?”
“That’s correct,” Fraser responded. “I’m Benton Fraser, his best man.”
The older man nodded. “Come on back. Ray went out to pick up dinner, but he’ll be back in a minute.” He went through the doorway and Fraser followed.
###
When Ray came back with Chinese, he could hear his mother talking energetically, a man’s tones occasionally interjecting, different than his dad’s growl. As he rounded the corner, his mother was saying “Stella‘s such a nice girl, and hardworking. It was such a shame… I’m sure she and your friend will be happy together, of course.”
The man standing with his back to Ray replied smoothly, “Yes, they seem well-suited.”
“I’m back,” Ray called quickly. Best to clip this conversation in the bud as quickly as possible. “Happy Family, beef with pea pods, rice, and egg drop soup.” He set the take-out bag on the side table, far away from the silk wedding dress that his mother was embroidering seed pearls onto.
“Thank you, Stanley,” his mother said, and Ray mostly hid the grimace. “How was Lillian?”
“At home, resting. Peter said she’s better, worked a few hours, but not a whole day yet.”
Ray turned his attention to the tall man who’d stood and turned to face him. “You must be the Canadian.”
The man held out a hand for Ray to shake. “Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”
“Ray Kowalski, nice to meet you.” Ray looked at the outfit Fraser wore, with a bright red jacket that made him look like he needed to be guarding Buckingham Palace or something. “Stella wasn’t kidding,” Ray muttered under his breath, but apparently not quiet enough, as the other man’s eyes widened as if he had heard him. “Uh. Come on up,” Ray said awkwardly. “We can get you measured.” Fraser followed him to the fitting area tucked into the side of the storefront.
“So, what were you thinking?,” Ray asked.
“Pardon?”
“To wear? I mean, Stella’s got an idea for the general look, but she was leaving the specifics to you guys. What kind of thing do you usually wear?”
“My uniforms,” Fraser replied.
“When you’re not wearing your uniform, then.”
“I’m afraid that my off-duty wardrobe is fairly limited. I have some serviceable denim and flannel shirts I brought with me from the Northwest Territories.”
Oookay. This might take a while.
###
Ray Kowalski was possessed with a nervy energy that Fraser found first alarming and then quickly appealing. He was dressed in a way Fraser thought surprising, wearing torn, faded jeans and a t-shirt worn thin with age underneath a dark wool jacket which molded perfectly to his shoulders and chest. He suspected the jacket was custom-made. It should have looked out of place, but instead it and the black-rimmed glasses Ray wore suited him perfectly.
As Benton was measured for his suit, he began to suspect that he knew the reason why Ray Kowalski and Stella had divorced. Or at least he was fairly certain he was being flirted with, which, granted, didn’t remove the possibility that Ray preferred both men and women. Nonetheless, he felt the weight of Ray’s attention throughout the measuring process. He could feel his color begin to rise, and thankfully was able to pull his tunic back on.
“Hot?,” Ray asked.
“Pardon? Oh, oh, yes, I suppose it is a bit warm, yes,” Fraser replied.
“Sorry. It’s the heating system here, either it’s a sauna or it’s a freezer. You’re welcome to leave off your coat,” Ray replied.
“That’s quite all right, thank you, Mr. Kowalski,” Fraser said.
“Call me Ray. OK, so here’s what I’m thinking would be good,” Ray said, quickly drawing on a pad of paper with a marker and handing it to Fraser.
The sketch was quite skilled, Fraser thought, depicting a simply-styled suit with three buttons.
“Stella and the Ital… uh, Ray, they’re going for something sophisticated, dressy, so I say a fine pinstripe, superfine wool; the usual thing would be blue, but I think a dark brown with a chalk stripe would look great on you, bring out your eyes.”
“That sounds more than acceptable, Ray,” Fraser said.
“You want you should check with Stella, or do you want me to do it?”
“Oh, please do so yourself, you’re the expert. I wouldn’t want to miscommunicate any details,” Fraser said.
“Good deal,” Ray replied. “I’ll let ya know when we’ve got something made up, so you can come in, get the fit checked.”
###
“Can’t kill the Italian. Can’t kill the Italian,” Ray muttered to himself. Vecchio was driving him batshit. He’d come in for the final fitting of his suit, and every little thing was wrong. Even though Ray had made sure it was perfect, and the fit was just as it should be. The guy was busting his balls just for fun.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” Stella said, as she walked in the room. Thank God.
“You think? I think the sleeve length looks a little weird,” Vecchio said, leaning down to kiss her. Stella kissed him back, then pulled away to look at him. “No, it looks perfect.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ray muttered. Stella turned to glance at him and then smiled. “OK, enough guy bonding. Go get that off, we’ve got dinner reservations in a half-hour.”
Once Vecchio had walked out of earshot, Stella came over and kissed Ray’s cheek. “Thanks for doing this. I know he’s probably been a little annoying.”
“Annoying? He’s been like a dog marking its territory. We’ve been divorced for seven years,” Ray replied.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids, and he knows that. He’s just feeling protective. He’ll get over it once we’re married.”
“Hello?” The call interrupted what Ray was going to say, which was probably a good thing.
“Heya, Benny,” Vecchio said, as he and Fraser both stepped into the workroom.
“Ray,” Fraser replied. “Stella. Ray.” That last one was directed at Ray, who was pulling Fraser’s suit off of the rack.
“Hello, Constable,” Stella said. “Ray, we’ve got to run, we’ve got so much to do before Saturday.” They hurried out, and Ray stifled a sigh of relief. He was glad Stella was happy, but man Vecchio seemed like such a tool.
“So, how you been, Fraser?,” Ray asked as he circled him, checking the fit of the suit. It needed a couple small tweaks, but overall it was looking good.
“Quite well, thank you. Yourself? It’s been very cool for May, don’t you think? Well, for Chicago; we would be fortunate to have weather this balmy even in midsummer in the Territories,” Fraser replied, and then started talking about something about the Gulf Stream and global warming and, strangely, cabbages. To be honest, Ray kinda zoned out a little once Fraser got going.
Unless Ray was crazy - and he wasn’t, despite some people’s opinions to the contrary - Fraser was flirting with him. At first he’d thought Fraser wasn’t interested, and then he’d realized that Fraser’s flirting was some of the strangest and most subtle in the world. Now he just had to figure out what to do next. Maybe he should keep it simple, make sure Fraser didn’t get any chance to misinterpret things.
###
Fraser stood by the altar with Ray Vecchio, waiting for the wedding march to begin. His idle survey of the guests in the pews stopped in surprise at Ray Kowalski, who was seated with his parents. He was clean shaven, his hair tamed, and wore a slate gray suit with a white shirt and dark blue tie. Ray met his eyes and raised a brow, and Fraser quickly looked away.
At the reception, Fraser was standing at the hors d’oeuvres table when a voice spoke from behind him. “You didn’t think I’d clean up this good, did you?” He turned to see Ray Kowalski standing in front of him with two glasses of champagne, one of which he held out to Fraser.
“Thank you, but I don’t drink.”
“I heard,” Ray said. “This one’s sparkling cider.”
“Ah. Well, in that case, thank you.” Fraser took the glass and had a small sip.
“Nice wedding, yeah?,” Ray asked as without words they moved away from the food, toward an out-of-the-way corner of the room.
“It was lovely,” Fraser agreed. “And no, I was sure you were fully capable of dressing formally. It just didn’t seem your usual style.”
“Nah, it’s not,” Ray agreed. “But if I’m gonna do it I’m gonna damn well do it right.”
“You look very handsome,” Fraser said, looking at Ray.
“You look pretty good yourself, even if I do say so myself,” Ray said, eyeing Fraser’s perfectly fitted suit. He moved closer, and Fraser noticed how beautiful and clear Ray’s eyes were without his glasses in the way. Ray reached out, placing his hand over Fraser’s on the champagne flute. “Wanna dance?,” he asked.
“Are you asking me just to shock Ray Vecchio’s relatives?,” Fraser asked.
“That might be half the reason, but the other half is all you,” Ray responded.
Fraser took both of their glasses and placed them on a nearby table before offering Ray his hand. As trite as it was, all Fraser could think was that Ray’s smile was like the sun coming up.
Title: Tailor-Made
Fandom/Pairing: due South, F/K
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~1900
Summary: Ray Kowalski agreed to do the tuxes for his ex-wife’s upcoming wedding. He was a tailor, after all, and it was the nice thing to do, even if her new guy was a bit of a dick, and Italian. He never expected to meet anyone like Benton Fraser. But then, no one ever expects to fall in love.
“Your fiancee’s ex-husband is making the tuxes?,” Fraser repeated.
“Or tailoring them, whatever it’s called,” Ray confirmed. “Apparently he said he wanted to, it would be his wedding present. They get along OK, I guess. I don’t really get it; me and Ang bite each other’s heads off whenever we see each other.”
“It’s admirable that they’ve remained friends,” Fraser responded.
“I suppose. As long as he keeps his hands off my girl.”
Fraser doubted that that would be a problem. Ray and Stella seemed well-suited, even though on the surface they weren’t that alike. They were fiercely loyal to each other, and Fraser respected that, even if he sometimes felt excluded by their coupledom. Ray was his dear friend, and he deserved every happiness.
###
Fraser held his hat in his hands as the glass door closed behind him with a jingle. Shortly, a man in his 60s came out from a back room and approached the counter. “How can I help ya?”
“Good evening. I’m looking for Mr. Kowalski,” Fraser said.
“Which one?,” the man asked.
Fraser paused. “Hmm.” He pulled the note on which Ray had scrawled the name and address out of inside his hat, and glanced at it. “I don’t believe Detective Vecchio specified a first name, unfortunately.”
“Vecchio?,” the guy repeated. “Ray Vecchio, Stella’s new guy?”
“That’s correct,” Fraser responded. “I’m Benton Fraser, his best man.”
The older man nodded. “Come on back. Ray went out to pick up dinner, but he’ll be back in a minute.” He went through the doorway and Fraser followed.
###
When Ray came back with Chinese, he could hear his mother talking energetically, a man’s tones occasionally interjecting, different than his dad’s growl. As he rounded the corner, his mother was saying “Stella‘s such a nice girl, and hardworking. It was such a shame… I’m sure she and your friend will be happy together, of course.”
The man standing with his back to Ray replied smoothly, “Yes, they seem well-suited.”
“I’m back,” Ray called quickly. Best to clip this conversation in the bud as quickly as possible. “Happy Family, beef with pea pods, rice, and egg drop soup.” He set the take-out bag on the side table, far away from the silk wedding dress that his mother was embroidering seed pearls onto.
“Thank you, Stanley,” his mother said, and Ray mostly hid the grimace. “How was Lillian?”
“At home, resting. Peter said she’s better, worked a few hours, but not a whole day yet.”
Ray turned his attention to the tall man who’d stood and turned to face him. “You must be the Canadian.”
The man held out a hand for Ray to shake. “Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”
“Ray Kowalski, nice to meet you.” Ray looked at the outfit Fraser wore, with a bright red jacket that made him look like he needed to be guarding Buckingham Palace or something. “Stella wasn’t kidding,” Ray muttered under his breath, but apparently not quiet enough, as the other man’s eyes widened as if he had heard him. “Uh. Come on up,” Ray said awkwardly. “We can get you measured.” Fraser followed him to the fitting area tucked into the side of the storefront.
“So, what were you thinking?,” Ray asked.
“Pardon?”
“To wear? I mean, Stella’s got an idea for the general look, but she was leaving the specifics to you guys. What kind of thing do you usually wear?”
“My uniforms,” Fraser replied.
“When you’re not wearing your uniform, then.”
“I’m afraid that my off-duty wardrobe is fairly limited. I have some serviceable denim and flannel shirts I brought with me from the Northwest Territories.”
Oookay. This might take a while.
###
Ray Kowalski was possessed with a nervy energy that Fraser found first alarming and then quickly appealing. He was dressed in a way Fraser thought surprising, wearing torn, faded jeans and a t-shirt worn thin with age underneath a dark wool jacket which molded perfectly to his shoulders and chest. He suspected the jacket was custom-made. It should have looked out of place, but instead it and the black-rimmed glasses Ray wore suited him perfectly.
As Benton was measured for his suit, he began to suspect that he knew the reason why Ray Kowalski and Stella had divorced. Or at least he was fairly certain he was being flirted with, which, granted, didn’t remove the possibility that Ray preferred both men and women. Nonetheless, he felt the weight of Ray’s attention throughout the measuring process. He could feel his color begin to rise, and thankfully was able to pull his tunic back on.
“Hot?,” Ray asked.
“Pardon? Oh, oh, yes, I suppose it is a bit warm, yes,” Fraser replied.
“Sorry. It’s the heating system here, either it’s a sauna or it’s a freezer. You’re welcome to leave off your coat,” Ray replied.
“That’s quite all right, thank you, Mr. Kowalski,” Fraser said.
“Call me Ray. OK, so here’s what I’m thinking would be good,” Ray said, quickly drawing on a pad of paper with a marker and handing it to Fraser.
The sketch was quite skilled, Fraser thought, depicting a simply-styled suit with three buttons.
“Stella and the Ital… uh, Ray, they’re going for something sophisticated, dressy, so I say a fine pinstripe, superfine wool; the usual thing would be blue, but I think a dark brown with a chalk stripe would look great on you, bring out your eyes.”
“That sounds more than acceptable, Ray,” Fraser said.
“You want you should check with Stella, or do you want me to do it?”
“Oh, please do so yourself, you’re the expert. I wouldn’t want to miscommunicate any details,” Fraser said.
“Good deal,” Ray replied. “I’ll let ya know when we’ve got something made up, so you can come in, get the fit checked.”
###
“Can’t kill the Italian. Can’t kill the Italian,” Ray muttered to himself. Vecchio was driving him batshit. He’d come in for the final fitting of his suit, and every little thing was wrong. Even though Ray had made sure it was perfect, and the fit was just as it should be. The guy was busting his balls just for fun.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” Stella said, as she walked in the room. Thank God.
“You think? I think the sleeve length looks a little weird,” Vecchio said, leaning down to kiss her. Stella kissed him back, then pulled away to look at him. “No, it looks perfect.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ray muttered. Stella turned to glance at him and then smiled. “OK, enough guy bonding. Go get that off, we’ve got dinner reservations in a half-hour.”
Once Vecchio had walked out of earshot, Stella came over and kissed Ray’s cheek. “Thanks for doing this. I know he’s probably been a little annoying.”
“Annoying? He’s been like a dog marking its territory. We’ve been divorced for seven years,” Ray replied.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids, and he knows that. He’s just feeling protective. He’ll get over it once we’re married.”
“Hello?” The call interrupted what Ray was going to say, which was probably a good thing.
“Heya, Benny,” Vecchio said, as he and Fraser both stepped into the workroom.
“Ray,” Fraser replied. “Stella. Ray.” That last one was directed at Ray, who was pulling Fraser’s suit off of the rack.
“Hello, Constable,” Stella said. “Ray, we’ve got to run, we’ve got so much to do before Saturday.” They hurried out, and Ray stifled a sigh of relief. He was glad Stella was happy, but man Vecchio seemed like such a tool.
“So, how you been, Fraser?,” Ray asked as he circled him, checking the fit of the suit. It needed a couple small tweaks, but overall it was looking good.
“Quite well, thank you. Yourself? It’s been very cool for May, don’t you think? Well, for Chicago; we would be fortunate to have weather this balmy even in midsummer in the Territories,” Fraser replied, and then started talking about something about the Gulf Stream and global warming and, strangely, cabbages. To be honest, Ray kinda zoned out a little once Fraser got going.
Unless Ray was crazy - and he wasn’t, despite some people’s opinions to the contrary - Fraser was flirting with him. At first he’d thought Fraser wasn’t interested, and then he’d realized that Fraser’s flirting was some of the strangest and most subtle in the world. Now he just had to figure out what to do next. Maybe he should keep it simple, make sure Fraser didn’t get any chance to misinterpret things.
###
Fraser stood by the altar with Ray Vecchio, waiting for the wedding march to begin. His idle survey of the guests in the pews stopped in surprise at Ray Kowalski, who was seated with his parents. He was clean shaven, his hair tamed, and wore a slate gray suit with a white shirt and dark blue tie. Ray met his eyes and raised a brow, and Fraser quickly looked away.
At the reception, Fraser was standing at the hors d’oeuvres table when a voice spoke from behind him. “You didn’t think I’d clean up this good, did you?” He turned to see Ray Kowalski standing in front of him with two glasses of champagne, one of which he held out to Fraser.
“Thank you, but I don’t drink.”
“I heard,” Ray said. “This one’s sparkling cider.”
“Ah. Well, in that case, thank you.” Fraser took the glass and had a small sip.
“Nice wedding, yeah?,” Ray asked as without words they moved away from the food, toward an out-of-the-way corner of the room.
“It was lovely,” Fraser agreed. “And no, I was sure you were fully capable of dressing formally. It just didn’t seem your usual style.”
“Nah, it’s not,” Ray agreed. “But if I’m gonna do it I’m gonna damn well do it right.”
“You look very handsome,” Fraser said, looking at Ray.
“You look pretty good yourself, even if I do say so myself,” Ray said, eyeing Fraser’s perfectly fitted suit. He moved closer, and Fraser noticed how beautiful and clear Ray’s eyes were without his glasses in the way. Ray reached out, placing his hand over Fraser’s on the champagne flute. “Wanna dance?,” he asked.
“Are you asking me just to shock Ray Vecchio’s relatives?,” Fraser asked.
“That might be half the reason, but the other half is all you,” Ray responded.
Fraser took both of their glasses and placed them on a nearby table before offering Ray his hand. As trite as it was, all Fraser could think was that Ray’s smile was like the sun coming up.