Plan D, by Littera Abactor
Even though this is for the naked without sex challenge, it's my first-ever attempt at smut, the writing of which comes about as naturally to me as flying does to Diefenbaker; advice, comments, and stern instructions never to do this again all appreciated. And this has not been beta-read; I'd be very grateful for volunteers to beta future (or current) efforts.
Those alarmed by my previous contribution to this community can rest assured that there is absolutely no crack here, just as many cliches as I could pack into 4,000 words. And there's a bonus educational note!
Title: Plan D
Author: Littera Abactor
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Words: 4,414
Night 1
~Fraser~
Fraser studied his notes, breathing evenly; staying calm was an essential part of any acclimation exercise. He also took care to focus only on item one of Plan D. This would be easier one step at a time.
First, then, would be preparation; that was, as always, the key to success. He ensured that all exterior windows and doors were locked, and that the Canadian Consulate was truly empty. To make certain that Diefenbaker remained in the lounge for the duration of the experiment, he turned on the television and located a special on the fauna of Australia in which Diefenbaker had previously expressed interest.
Returning to his office, Fraser placed a chair under the door handle, then realized that that hardly indicated the hoped-for level of comfort and replaced it behind the desk. He shut off the lights and lit two standard candles, wishing the article had been clearer about the precise level of illumination desirable in phase one of the project. Finally, he produced his jar of homemade ointment.
Again, he found himself wishing the author of the article had seen fit to be more exact. But lotion and ointment were surely synonymous. In any case, if this didn't yield results, he knew several other preparations he could try. For example, sprat oil with crushed borage and essence of - he was stalling.
Standing in parade rest in the center of his office, he began to remove his uniform. Fraser was surprised to notice, as he unbuttoned his tunic, that his hands were shaking slightly, but of course this was precisely the problem he was hoping to correct.
When he had removed (and hung up; no reason to be untidy) all his clothing, he reached for the jar of ointment and began to smooth it on his body.
~Kowalski~
Something was up with Fraser. Shit, something major was up with Fraser. It wasn't so much that he turned down a pizza - Ray was fine with that, good with that; sometimes guys needed to be alone to do, well, guy things.
Mmmm. Maybe that was it. Maybe Fraser was just horny. Maybe he'd been turned on all day - not that you could see anything under those pants; it was like they'd been designed by Canadians Against Telling If Mounties Are Hard - so maybe he had been. Maybe he'd been thinking all day about getting home and being alone.
He'd make sure the Consulate was shut, of course, and then he'd walk to his office. He'd start by just lightly brushing his hands along the crotch of those pants - Ray unconsciously stroked his own fly - and after waiting all day, even that would send a jolt to his cock. He'd stand there for a second, enjoying the anticipation, and then he'd undress, starting with the boots, then moving on to his lanyard and Sam Browne and tunic. He'd carefully put those things away, then begin on the pants, unfastening them slowly, as slowly as he could stand - slower than Ray could stand right now, that was for sure - even though his cock was aching to be touched, his whole body was aching for it. And then, when he'd finally gotten his pants off and hung up, he'd let himself trace the outline of his cock through those starched boxers of his, feeling the fabric a little rough against the sensitive skin, imagining -
Well, hell. Ray dragged his hand away from his briefs, because Fraser sure as shit wasn't sitting in the Consulate imagining Ray jerking off. He'd be thinking about - a girl. Some girl with dark hair, probably, and lots of curves, and gorgeous, and just everything Ray wasn't. Starting with female.
Or, Christ. What if he'd had a date?
Night 2
~Fraser~
Clearly the problem the previous night had been excessive application of the ointment. It was exceedingly difficult to feel comfortable naked, never mind revel in one's "curves," when one was covered in such a thick layer of ointment, particularly as that formula had a heating, rather than moisturizing, effect. Also, he had not thought to provide a towel, and with his hands covered in the stuff, he'd been unable to open the door of his office for quite some time. Walking down the hallway coated in liniment had not made him any more comfortable with his own nudity, either. On the contrary, in fact.
That afternoon, therefore, Fraser had taken the precaution of purchasing a recommended brand of lotion. At least, he assumed it was recommended; it had featured prominently in the advertising of the magazine in question. And it had been astoundingly expensive.
Also, of course, he'd made sure to have a towel handy.
He wondered if he should move on to the next step in the illumination progression, but came to the conclusion that if the previous step had not been an unqualified success, it would be folly to push matters.
At the very least, he assumed sooner or later he'd become so familiar with this routine that it would lose all its potential for discomfort. Already he was moving more certainly through the stages: candles, clothing, lotion.
Fraser knew he could do this. He began stroking his hand along his upper arm while conscientiously thinking about the curve of his biceps. It was simply a matter of focus and - dear lord. What was that noise?
~Kowalski~
Ray had spent the whole fucking day watching Fraser, and something was definitely hinky. His Spidey senses were tingling, because Fraser - Fraser was not acting normal, and, beyond a doubt, it had something to do with girls.
He paced around the living room, tapping his fourth beer, counting out the instances of total weirdness. There was all that shit with Frannie at the precinct in the morning, sneaking looks at her desk and then pretending he was looking for some file, asking her about what she liked to read, all that. At lunch, he'd interrogated Ray about eating out, music, flowers, romantic shit - and Fraser did not give a single goddamn about any of that crap. Not usually.
Fuck. He was picking up tips, that was it. And it wasn't like Ray minded - the guy had a right to a sex life, probably needed to get laid worse than anyone but maybe Ray himself - but it just sucked, sucked that Fraser wouldn't tell him straight up and flat out ask instead of being sneaky.
Nah. Who was he kidding? He minded like hell that Fraser had girlfriend.
Maybe after another beer or two he'd be able to pretend that he was only pissed because Fraser was getting laid when he wasn't. Forget all about jerking off in the men's room that afternoon after Fraser had spent a half-hour hanging over his shoulder looking at the Neruda file, breathing on Ray's neck and making sexy lip-licking noises and just generally making him want to fuck right there on the desk with God and Welsh looking on. Three more beers, max, and he'd forget what a fucking loser he was, jerking off thinking about his partner, who was a guy and straight and had a girlfriend and was probably going to get fucking married as soon as he could get Ray to tell him how to pop the question.
Goddamn it.
Night 3
~Fraser~
"It most certainly was not amusing," Fraser snapped at Diefenbaker. "You know perfectly well why I'm doing this, and barking an alert while I was, ah, in mid-procedure wasn't at all helpful." In fact, it had caused him a moment of true panic, which only proved how far he had to go before he could reasonably invite Ray to share in any of these activities. Assuming for the moment that Ray had a mind to do so; only time would tell about that, of course.
Fraser had maintained an offended silence through most of the day, but that had only encouraged Diefenbaker's impudence and snide remarks; if they didn't have this out tonight, Ray was bound to notice something soon. In fact, that was an excellent point.
"Apart from anything else, acting the way you did today made Ray uncomfortable."
Dief made a snuffling noise and canted his ears slightly.
"No, you were the one behaving strangely. That's why Ray asked me to choose the restaurant."
Another snuffling noise, this time accompanied by a head tilt and a rude tail gesture from Diefenbaker.
"I most certainly was not; my conduct was entirely within normal parameters. The lotion may have rendered my skin more sensitive than usual, but I'm confident Ray couldn't detect that."
Dief snorted.
"Ray's sense of smell is not that good. And the point is that your behavior was inexcusable both last night and today."
Dief rose, made a very pointed sign with his snout in the direction of his tail, and walked into the lobby, effectively ending all discussion. Fraser sighed; they'd have to continue in the morning, when Diefenbaker would perhaps be in a less difficult mood.
Fraser studied Plan D for a moment and then decided that tonight he'd take a break. The day had been difficult enough, what with Ray's scrutiny and the lotion's - effects. He'd go to bed early, get a good night's sleep, and on the morrow he'd return to his anointing nudity exercises a new man. As he folded down his bedroll and changed into his long johns, he wondered if everyone had to go through this sort of thing prior to forming a long-term romantic attachment, or if it was strictly the province of individuals wishing to attract men.
It was certainly a lot of work. He settled onto his cot with his notebook, a pen, and the Cosmopolitan. He still needed to parse "Sex He'll Go Wild For" - some of the tips were remarkably obtuse.
~Kowalski~
Ray had been - well, okay, he'd been a total fucking wreck last night, back when he just thought Fraser had a girlfriend. But now Ray wasn't only pissed off and maybe a little jealous; he was worried.
Dief, for one thing. Ray was no wolf communication specialist or whatever, but he knew as well as anyone when Dief was in a mood, and this was one of those times. Which meant that Dief didn't like the girl, the girl Fraser was dating, and Ray trusted the wolf on this.
And Ray had been extra nice to Fraser all day, to like make up for all the bad thoughts he'd had about him - bad thoughts on several levels - the night before. Fraser hadn't noticed; he was so fucking focused on this girl that he didn't even notice when his partner was getting completely whacked out and maybe losing his mind so much that he didn't mind eating Korean barbeque for lunch. Not that Ray was trying to get Fraser's attention or anything.
Plus, Fraser had smelled like her, smelled of that same expensive moisturizer Stella used. And, shit shit shit, that brought up a possibility that Ray didn't even want to think about, because that - he'd have to leave the country or something, minimum.
Which was why he was sitting in an unmarked across the street from the Consulate. Fraser'd be in bed by eleven at the latest, asleep by midnight - assuming he was even sleeping here these days, and Ray did not want to be thinking about that at all - and then he'd just - do a little research. Was all.
Midnight came slower than a frigid virgin. But eventually Ray was on the stoop, sliding his credit card along the lock, take-out bag gripped between his teeth.
Dief was waiting for him on the other side of the door, tail wagging.
Ray held out the bag and cut to the chase. He whispered, "Wolf, it's your lucky night. You do not make a sound and you never say a word to Frase about tonight and this is all yours. And there's more where that came from."
Dief tilted his head, thinking, weighing his options.
Ray sweetened the pot. "This now. Next installment tomorrow. Doughnut while Fraser's talking to Frannie about whatever the fuck he spends all that time talking to her about these days."
Dief nodded decisively, and Ray unwrapped the burger and tossed it to him, feeling better already. The girl might be fucking Fraser, she might be getting inside the pumpkin pants, she might know what those gorgeous lips tasted like, but Ray'd bet anything she didn't know how to bribe the wolf.
He kicked off his shoes and moved softly down the hallway, being sure not to move too stealthily, because Fraser always noticed shit like that. But someone just walking down the hallway - well, he'd caught Fraser sleeping before. He knew how.
The door to Fraser's office was ajar, probably so Dief could move in and out if he wanted. Ray eased the door open enough to move through and stepped over the squeaky board right in front of it, then paused to let his eyes adjust. Thank Christ for Chicago, where no night was ever really dark; he could see pretty good already, see that Fraser'd fallen asleep reading something. Hell, taking notes about something; probably he was researching, like, every kind of mud in Illinois or whatever. Or diamond rings.
Fuck, no, don't think about it. Fraser was sound asleep, and that's what counted. Ray'd spent enough overnight stake-outs with Fraser to know what he sounded like sleeping, and that long breath, pause, short breath thing meant he was deeply asleep and dreaming about pemmican or something. Good.
Desk first. It was pretty clear, and there weren't, like, any pictures or phone numbers or anything. Ray hadn't been expecting it to be easy. He scanned the stuff in Fraser's outbox - lots of Canadian forms, plus some memo about white gloves that had the Ice Queen's signature at the bottom and Fraser's and Turnbull's initials in the upper right hand corner.
He gave a closer inspection to the stuff actually on the desk. The desk calendar, totally blank for a month forward and back, but then Fraser probably didn't have to write dates down to remember them. A dictionary, which was only surprising because that meant there was a word in the world Fraser didn't know. Three telephone books. And - a list. A list headed "Plan D."
Shit. Holy fucking shit, the first thing on it was "Smooth lotion on naked body, appreciating curves as appropriate." Ray almost said something right out loud. He dropped the list back onto the desk like it was on fire, and Constable Bat Ears fucking heard that.
"Mmmf?" He was still half asleep, thank you Jesus. Ray froze completely.
And Dief - Dief came in and made a quiet woofle noise that Ray couldn't help but think of as reassuring. It did the trick. Fraser sighed, and in a few minutes he was back to that long breath, pause, short breath thing. Ray made a thumbs-up at the wolf and added another doughnut and hamburger to the mental total. Dief wagged his tail once and sat.
And then he, like, gestured with his head. At the cot.
Ray shook his own head. No way he could get that close to Fraser and not wake him up. Probably by sticking his tongue down his throat.
Dief did it again, looking frustrated. And then, when Ray just stood there, the wolf went over and hauled something right off the pillow next to Fraser and brought it over to Ray. It was a magazine with a girl on the cover, and for a second Ray thought Fraser had fallen asleep with porn, which probably meant the world was ending, but then he caught the title. Cosmopolitan.
Holy fucking shit.
And then Fraser bolted up and hit the lights, because Ray had said that out loud.
~Fraser~
Fraser's first reaction was to be thankful he was wearing his long johns. His subsequent thoughts involved death and embarrassment and, in rapid succession, Friedrich Nietzsche, Kenneth Mackenzie Clark, and George Eliot.
"The human brain is a mystery and a wonder," he told Ray, who was still standing there staring at Fraser, his mouth open and his eyes - oh dear. His eyes were narrowing, which was a bad sign, and then Ray snapped his mouth shut, which was a very bad sign.
"Thank you, Fraser, but I'd pretty much already noticed that, what with the grand seduction plan and the Cosmo and everything." Ray sounded angry, yes, and also - Fraser wasn't entirely sure. He was too busy being simultaneously horrified by and impressed with Ray's intuition.
"Well, ah." Fraser felt his face burning, and, really, it was easy for Nietzsche to talk, but Fraser would like to see how he would have handled this situation. "Ray, you see, these things aren't - aren't as easy for everyone as they are for you." If anything, that had only made Ray angrier. "By which I mean," he continued hastily, "that you are a natural, but I most definitely am not, and," if Fraser didn't fall back and regroup immediately, Ray was clearly going to have an ischemic event, "and this situation reminds of an event that once took place in Tuktoyatuk, when the Fairland brothers purchased three hundred live minks by mail order and -"
Ray, now radiating anger, held up a hand, and Fraser stopped despite himself. There was for a moment of silence broken only by Dief's fast, worried breathing, and then Ray sighed heavily and began to speak. "Look," he said.
Fraser looked. In this mood, Ray could compel anyone to do anything.
"I don't mind that you have this whole thing going and you never told me, even though that sucks, even though it is so not buddies, even though I -" Ray broke off and dropped into the chair behind Fraser's desk, where he sat for a long moment, rubbing his face with both hands.
When he started again, he sounded almost exhausted. "Actually, Fraser, I do mind. I mind a lot. Obviously. But that's all my problem and I'll handle it. It's just - why didn't you tell me? Did you think I'd." The sentence wasn't finished, but Ray clearly was. He shut his mouth, folded his arms on the desk, and stared directly at Fraser. For the first time since Fraser had startled awake, Ray was totally still. It was disturbing.
Fraser listened to Diefenbaker's whining exhalations for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I was waiting, Ray."
"For what? The wedding invitations to come back from the printer?"
Fraser turned that around in his head several times and still couldn't find a way it made sense. He tried substituting out the major words on the theory that Ray had made an unusually subtle error, but even that didn't help. He had no choice but to ask. "The wedding invitations?"
"Come on, Fraser. You mean to tell me you aren't head over heels for this girl? You aren't just waiting to pop the question?"
"What girl?"
"The girl, Fraser, the girl! Woman, female, lady, whatever! The girl whose curves you're fucking appreciating!"
It took several seconds for Fraser to process that, and he could feel his face radiating heat by the time he was done. He considered lying, but knew he'd never get it past Ray, and maybe this was his moment anyway.
"Ah." And then the words just stuck, just would not come. Fraser froze.
Ray studied him for a long moment. "Ah?" he repeated, doing a fairly good job of mimicking Fraser's pronunciation and tone.
Fraser studied his hands and wished desperately that something, anything, would happen to end this moment - mobsters and rabid wolverines could break into the Consulate, and he and Ray could repel them successfully, and they'd - he was stalling again. "Ray," he said quietly, "there's no girl."
"And this?" Ray brandished Plan D at him; Fraser wished he'd not inherited the Fraser trait of putting absolutely everything in writing. "Are you appreciating Diefenbaker's curves, here?" There was a pause, and then Ray muttered, apparently to himself, "Oh, god, I sure hope not, because that is - that is - he's not, right?"
Diefenbaker tossed his head and muttered to himself; Fraser had heard the rest of the speech, which was all about opposable thumbs and accidents of evolution and human stupidity, far too many times to listen at this critical moment. Instead, he attempted to clear his mind of all thought and speak without any interference from his brain. "Of course not, Ray. There is - that is - the." Fraser breathed in for a count of three, out for a count of three, and tried to recite all the moons of Saturn while saying the next sentence. "The curves in question were Mimas own. I mean, my own." He truly thought his face might spontaneously combust unless the wolverines appeared soon.
The pause that followed was so long that Fraser conquered his embarrassment and looked up. Ray was looking at Plan D, head tilted, clearly thinking. As Fraser watched, Ray shifted his gaze to the Cosmo lying on the desk. After all eternity passed, Ray looked directly at Fraser. He was smiling. No, grinning.
"A little inhibited, Frase?"
Fraser didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, so he was shocked to hear his own voice say, "Just a bit."
Ray stood. He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of Fraser's desk chair, moving so slowly and deliberately that Fraser, who could not draw breath, feared he might suffocate before Ray finished. Then he looked up, straight into Fraser's eyes. Fraser realized he was spontaneously combusting now, and the fire was centered in his groin, radiating out as far his hands, which burned to touch; Fraser had to curl his fingers under the edge of the cot to keep from stroking his own thighs.
Ray walked - no, that graceful near-dance could not be called walking, couldn't even be compared to any ordinary means of getting from place to place - Ray glided towards Fraser. And Fraser could not look away, could not stop watching the roll of his hips, thought he could reach orgasm from this alone if Ray would just keep moving like that, just keep letting him watch -
And Ray stopped. Stopped so close that Fraser, sitting on the cot, was treated to a delightful view of certain unusually prominent parts of Ray's anatomy. And then he reached down, and drew Fraser up against him, and brought their lips together.
Dear god. They were kissing. Fraser hardly had time to realize that before Ray's tongue was skimming his lips, teasing him, stroking him, and Fraser was so lost in the sensation of hands gliding along his sides, down, down, down that it took him whole seconds to open his mouth, and dear Lord. Ray's tongue was stroking along his, and then he was sucking on Fraser's tongue, and Fraser was prepared to spend the rest of his life like this, clutching Ray's shoulders far too tightly and hardly able to breathe and crushed against this solid heat - and then Ray pulled away. Fraser couldn't keep back the moan, couldn't keep from reaching for Ray's mouth again, but Ray just smiled.
And then he dragged his tongue across Fraser's jaw and licked teasingly at his lips. "That's okay, Ben. I'm perverted enough for both of us."
Epilogue: Night 604
~Kowalski~
Ray could hear the sound of the 4-wheel for half an hour before Ben finally got home; up here it sounded loud, like call-the-cops loud, but that was just 'cause this place was so quiet and empty.
Ray figured he'd get used to it; they'd only been living here four days.
When the engine shut off, Ray dumped the stew into a serving dish and carried it to the table, where the green beans were already waiting. When Ben and Dief came in, he was getting the rolls out of the oven.
Dief immediately came over to supervise the operation and rescue any rolls that happened to drop to the floor. Ben followed after he'd removed and hung up his outdoor gear.
"Hey," Ray said. He could see the brown-paper-wrapped package on the top of their stack of mail, and he grinned.
Ben's eyebrows were slightly drawn together, forming two tiny creases between them. "Ray," he said, holding up the package with just his forefinger and thumb, "did you order a magazine subscription?"
"Yeah," Ray said.
"You didn't have any magazines before."
"Nope. But this is one I think we'll need."
"It has my name on it." Ben looked up, caught Ray's nod, and efficiently removed the brown paper and plastic wrap. After studying the cover for a moment, he looked up, fighting a smile. "Ray, if they ever send this without the cover, everyone in town will wonder why I'm subscribed to Cosmopolitan."
"It adds mystery, which is good for an RCMP Inspector. And if they ask, just tell 'em for the sex tips."
Ben bit his lips, but a sound escaped anyway. "You gave me Cosmopolitan?"
Ray looked into Ben's eyes. "Well, yeah. I mean, you can't just buy them at a 7-11 up here." He paused, then added, "I got you a lifetime subscription."
Ben's face - it melted, there was no other word for it, and when he looked at Ray his eyes were all shiny. "Oh," he said softly. "Thank you." He walked over to Ray and knelt on the floor before him, wrapped his arms around him and pressed against his chest. "Thank you," he repeated, muffled by the sweater Ray was wearing.
Ray squeezed Ben's shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
Still talking directly to Ray's pectorals, Ben whispered, "I love you, too."
~End~
Note: When Ray awakens Fraser, Fraser thinks of the following quotes:
"One who is always deeply involved in what he is doing is above all embarrassment." - Friedrich Nietzsche
"I have exposed myself and am not ashamed to stand there naked. 'Shame' is what we call the monster that attached itself to men when they aspired beyond the animals." - Friedrich Nietzsche
"To be naked is to be deprived of our clothes, and the word implies some of the embarrassment most of us feel in that condition." - Kenneth Mackenzie Clark
"But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, ...its effect is not to be done away with." - George Eliot
Apparently Fraser had been spending quite a bit of time thinking about nudity and shame.
Those alarmed by my previous contribution to this community can rest assured that there is absolutely no crack here, just as many cliches as I could pack into 4,000 words. And there's a bonus educational note!
Title: Plan D
Author: Littera Abactor
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Words: 4,414
Night 1
~Fraser~
Fraser studied his notes, breathing evenly; staying calm was an essential part of any acclimation exercise. He also took care to focus only on item one of Plan D. This would be easier one step at a time.
First, then, would be preparation; that was, as always, the key to success. He ensured that all exterior windows and doors were locked, and that the Canadian Consulate was truly empty. To make certain that Diefenbaker remained in the lounge for the duration of the experiment, he turned on the television and located a special on the fauna of Australia in which Diefenbaker had previously expressed interest.
Returning to his office, Fraser placed a chair under the door handle, then realized that that hardly indicated the hoped-for level of comfort and replaced it behind the desk. He shut off the lights and lit two standard candles, wishing the article had been clearer about the precise level of illumination desirable in phase one of the project. Finally, he produced his jar of homemade ointment.
Again, he found himself wishing the author of the article had seen fit to be more exact. But lotion and ointment were surely synonymous. In any case, if this didn't yield results, he knew several other preparations he could try. For example, sprat oil with crushed borage and essence of - he was stalling.
Standing in parade rest in the center of his office, he began to remove his uniform. Fraser was surprised to notice, as he unbuttoned his tunic, that his hands were shaking slightly, but of course this was precisely the problem he was hoping to correct.
When he had removed (and hung up; no reason to be untidy) all his clothing, he reached for the jar of ointment and began to smooth it on his body.
~Kowalski~
Something was up with Fraser. Shit, something major was up with Fraser. It wasn't so much that he turned down a pizza - Ray was fine with that, good with that; sometimes guys needed to be alone to do, well, guy things.
Mmmm. Maybe that was it. Maybe Fraser was just horny. Maybe he'd been turned on all day - not that you could see anything under those pants; it was like they'd been designed by Canadians Against Telling If Mounties Are Hard - so maybe he had been. Maybe he'd been thinking all day about getting home and being alone.
He'd make sure the Consulate was shut, of course, and then he'd walk to his office. He'd start by just lightly brushing his hands along the crotch of those pants - Ray unconsciously stroked his own fly - and after waiting all day, even that would send a jolt to his cock. He'd stand there for a second, enjoying the anticipation, and then he'd undress, starting with the boots, then moving on to his lanyard and Sam Browne and tunic. He'd carefully put those things away, then begin on the pants, unfastening them slowly, as slowly as he could stand - slower than Ray could stand right now, that was for sure - even though his cock was aching to be touched, his whole body was aching for it. And then, when he'd finally gotten his pants off and hung up, he'd let himself trace the outline of his cock through those starched boxers of his, feeling the fabric a little rough against the sensitive skin, imagining -
Well, hell. Ray dragged his hand away from his briefs, because Fraser sure as shit wasn't sitting in the Consulate imagining Ray jerking off. He'd be thinking about - a girl. Some girl with dark hair, probably, and lots of curves, and gorgeous, and just everything Ray wasn't. Starting with female.
Or, Christ. What if he'd had a date?
Night 2
~Fraser~
Clearly the problem the previous night had been excessive application of the ointment. It was exceedingly difficult to feel comfortable naked, never mind revel in one's "curves," when one was covered in such a thick layer of ointment, particularly as that formula had a heating, rather than moisturizing, effect. Also, he had not thought to provide a towel, and with his hands covered in the stuff, he'd been unable to open the door of his office for quite some time. Walking down the hallway coated in liniment had not made him any more comfortable with his own nudity, either. On the contrary, in fact.
That afternoon, therefore, Fraser had taken the precaution of purchasing a recommended brand of lotion. At least, he assumed it was recommended; it had featured prominently in the advertising of the magazine in question. And it had been astoundingly expensive.
Also, of course, he'd made sure to have a towel handy.
He wondered if he should move on to the next step in the illumination progression, but came to the conclusion that if the previous step had not been an unqualified success, it would be folly to push matters.
At the very least, he assumed sooner or later he'd become so familiar with this routine that it would lose all its potential for discomfort. Already he was moving more certainly through the stages: candles, clothing, lotion.
Fraser knew he could do this. He began stroking his hand along his upper arm while conscientiously thinking about the curve of his biceps. It was simply a matter of focus and - dear lord. What was that noise?
~Kowalski~
Ray had spent the whole fucking day watching Fraser, and something was definitely hinky. His Spidey senses were tingling, because Fraser - Fraser was not acting normal, and, beyond a doubt, it had something to do with girls.
He paced around the living room, tapping his fourth beer, counting out the instances of total weirdness. There was all that shit with Frannie at the precinct in the morning, sneaking looks at her desk and then pretending he was looking for some file, asking her about what she liked to read, all that. At lunch, he'd interrogated Ray about eating out, music, flowers, romantic shit - and Fraser did not give a single goddamn about any of that crap. Not usually.
Fuck. He was picking up tips, that was it. And it wasn't like Ray minded - the guy had a right to a sex life, probably needed to get laid worse than anyone but maybe Ray himself - but it just sucked, sucked that Fraser wouldn't tell him straight up and flat out ask instead of being sneaky.
Nah. Who was he kidding? He minded like hell that Fraser had girlfriend.
Maybe after another beer or two he'd be able to pretend that he was only pissed because Fraser was getting laid when he wasn't. Forget all about jerking off in the men's room that afternoon after Fraser had spent a half-hour hanging over his shoulder looking at the Neruda file, breathing on Ray's neck and making sexy lip-licking noises and just generally making him want to fuck right there on the desk with God and Welsh looking on. Three more beers, max, and he'd forget what a fucking loser he was, jerking off thinking about his partner, who was a guy and straight and had a girlfriend and was probably going to get fucking married as soon as he could get Ray to tell him how to pop the question.
Goddamn it.
Night 3
~Fraser~
"It most certainly was not amusing," Fraser snapped at Diefenbaker. "You know perfectly well why I'm doing this, and barking an alert while I was, ah, in mid-procedure wasn't at all helpful." In fact, it had caused him a moment of true panic, which only proved how far he had to go before he could reasonably invite Ray to share in any of these activities. Assuming for the moment that Ray had a mind to do so; only time would tell about that, of course.
Fraser had maintained an offended silence through most of the day, but that had only encouraged Diefenbaker's impudence and snide remarks; if they didn't have this out tonight, Ray was bound to notice something soon. In fact, that was an excellent point.
"Apart from anything else, acting the way you did today made Ray uncomfortable."
Dief made a snuffling noise and canted his ears slightly.
"No, you were the one behaving strangely. That's why Ray asked me to choose the restaurant."
Another snuffling noise, this time accompanied by a head tilt and a rude tail gesture from Diefenbaker.
"I most certainly was not; my conduct was entirely within normal parameters. The lotion may have rendered my skin more sensitive than usual, but I'm confident Ray couldn't detect that."
Dief snorted.
"Ray's sense of smell is not that good. And the point is that your behavior was inexcusable both last night and today."
Dief rose, made a very pointed sign with his snout in the direction of his tail, and walked into the lobby, effectively ending all discussion. Fraser sighed; they'd have to continue in the morning, when Diefenbaker would perhaps be in a less difficult mood.
Fraser studied Plan D for a moment and then decided that tonight he'd take a break. The day had been difficult enough, what with Ray's scrutiny and the lotion's - effects. He'd go to bed early, get a good night's sleep, and on the morrow he'd return to his anointing nudity exercises a new man. As he folded down his bedroll and changed into his long johns, he wondered if everyone had to go through this sort of thing prior to forming a long-term romantic attachment, or if it was strictly the province of individuals wishing to attract men.
It was certainly a lot of work. He settled onto his cot with his notebook, a pen, and the Cosmopolitan. He still needed to parse "Sex He'll Go Wild For" - some of the tips were remarkably obtuse.
~Kowalski~
Ray had been - well, okay, he'd been a total fucking wreck last night, back when he just thought Fraser had a girlfriend. But now Ray wasn't only pissed off and maybe a little jealous; he was worried.
Dief, for one thing. Ray was no wolf communication specialist or whatever, but he knew as well as anyone when Dief was in a mood, and this was one of those times. Which meant that Dief didn't like the girl, the girl Fraser was dating, and Ray trusted the wolf on this.
And Ray had been extra nice to Fraser all day, to like make up for all the bad thoughts he'd had about him - bad thoughts on several levels - the night before. Fraser hadn't noticed; he was so fucking focused on this girl that he didn't even notice when his partner was getting completely whacked out and maybe losing his mind so much that he didn't mind eating Korean barbeque for lunch. Not that Ray was trying to get Fraser's attention or anything.
Plus, Fraser had smelled like her, smelled of that same expensive moisturizer Stella used. And, shit shit shit, that brought up a possibility that Ray didn't even want to think about, because that - he'd have to leave the country or something, minimum.
Which was why he was sitting in an unmarked across the street from the Consulate. Fraser'd be in bed by eleven at the latest, asleep by midnight - assuming he was even sleeping here these days, and Ray did not want to be thinking about that at all - and then he'd just - do a little research. Was all.
Midnight came slower than a frigid virgin. But eventually Ray was on the stoop, sliding his credit card along the lock, take-out bag gripped between his teeth.
Dief was waiting for him on the other side of the door, tail wagging.
Ray held out the bag and cut to the chase. He whispered, "Wolf, it's your lucky night. You do not make a sound and you never say a word to Frase about tonight and this is all yours. And there's more where that came from."
Dief tilted his head, thinking, weighing his options.
Ray sweetened the pot. "This now. Next installment tomorrow. Doughnut while Fraser's talking to Frannie about whatever the fuck he spends all that time talking to her about these days."
Dief nodded decisively, and Ray unwrapped the burger and tossed it to him, feeling better already. The girl might be fucking Fraser, she might be getting inside the pumpkin pants, she might know what those gorgeous lips tasted like, but Ray'd bet anything she didn't know how to bribe the wolf.
He kicked off his shoes and moved softly down the hallway, being sure not to move too stealthily, because Fraser always noticed shit like that. But someone just walking down the hallway - well, he'd caught Fraser sleeping before. He knew how.
The door to Fraser's office was ajar, probably so Dief could move in and out if he wanted. Ray eased the door open enough to move through and stepped over the squeaky board right in front of it, then paused to let his eyes adjust. Thank Christ for Chicago, where no night was ever really dark; he could see pretty good already, see that Fraser'd fallen asleep reading something. Hell, taking notes about something; probably he was researching, like, every kind of mud in Illinois or whatever. Or diamond rings.
Fuck, no, don't think about it. Fraser was sound asleep, and that's what counted. Ray'd spent enough overnight stake-outs with Fraser to know what he sounded like sleeping, and that long breath, pause, short breath thing meant he was deeply asleep and dreaming about pemmican or something. Good.
Desk first. It was pretty clear, and there weren't, like, any pictures or phone numbers or anything. Ray hadn't been expecting it to be easy. He scanned the stuff in Fraser's outbox - lots of Canadian forms, plus some memo about white gloves that had the Ice Queen's signature at the bottom and Fraser's and Turnbull's initials in the upper right hand corner.
He gave a closer inspection to the stuff actually on the desk. The desk calendar, totally blank for a month forward and back, but then Fraser probably didn't have to write dates down to remember them. A dictionary, which was only surprising because that meant there was a word in the world Fraser didn't know. Three telephone books. And - a list. A list headed "Plan D."
Shit. Holy fucking shit, the first thing on it was "Smooth lotion on naked body, appreciating curves as appropriate." Ray almost said something right out loud. He dropped the list back onto the desk like it was on fire, and Constable Bat Ears fucking heard that.
"Mmmf?" He was still half asleep, thank you Jesus. Ray froze completely.
And Dief - Dief came in and made a quiet woofle noise that Ray couldn't help but think of as reassuring. It did the trick. Fraser sighed, and in a few minutes he was back to that long breath, pause, short breath thing. Ray made a thumbs-up at the wolf and added another doughnut and hamburger to the mental total. Dief wagged his tail once and sat.
And then he, like, gestured with his head. At the cot.
Ray shook his own head. No way he could get that close to Fraser and not wake him up. Probably by sticking his tongue down his throat.
Dief did it again, looking frustrated. And then, when Ray just stood there, the wolf went over and hauled something right off the pillow next to Fraser and brought it over to Ray. It was a magazine with a girl on the cover, and for a second Ray thought Fraser had fallen asleep with porn, which probably meant the world was ending, but then he caught the title. Cosmopolitan.
Holy fucking shit.
And then Fraser bolted up and hit the lights, because Ray had said that out loud.
~Fraser~
Fraser's first reaction was to be thankful he was wearing his long johns. His subsequent thoughts involved death and embarrassment and, in rapid succession, Friedrich Nietzsche, Kenneth Mackenzie Clark, and George Eliot.
"The human brain is a mystery and a wonder," he told Ray, who was still standing there staring at Fraser, his mouth open and his eyes - oh dear. His eyes were narrowing, which was a bad sign, and then Ray snapped his mouth shut, which was a very bad sign.
"Thank you, Fraser, but I'd pretty much already noticed that, what with the grand seduction plan and the Cosmo and everything." Ray sounded angry, yes, and also - Fraser wasn't entirely sure. He was too busy being simultaneously horrified by and impressed with Ray's intuition.
"Well, ah." Fraser felt his face burning, and, really, it was easy for Nietzsche to talk, but Fraser would like to see how he would have handled this situation. "Ray, you see, these things aren't - aren't as easy for everyone as they are for you." If anything, that had only made Ray angrier. "By which I mean," he continued hastily, "that you are a natural, but I most definitely am not, and," if Fraser didn't fall back and regroup immediately, Ray was clearly going to have an ischemic event, "and this situation reminds of an event that once took place in Tuktoyatuk, when the Fairland brothers purchased three hundred live minks by mail order and -"
Ray, now radiating anger, held up a hand, and Fraser stopped despite himself. There was for a moment of silence broken only by Dief's fast, worried breathing, and then Ray sighed heavily and began to speak. "Look," he said.
Fraser looked. In this mood, Ray could compel anyone to do anything.
"I don't mind that you have this whole thing going and you never told me, even though that sucks, even though it is so not buddies, even though I -" Ray broke off and dropped into the chair behind Fraser's desk, where he sat for a long moment, rubbing his face with both hands.
When he started again, he sounded almost exhausted. "Actually, Fraser, I do mind. I mind a lot. Obviously. But that's all my problem and I'll handle it. It's just - why didn't you tell me? Did you think I'd." The sentence wasn't finished, but Ray clearly was. He shut his mouth, folded his arms on the desk, and stared directly at Fraser. For the first time since Fraser had startled awake, Ray was totally still. It was disturbing.
Fraser listened to Diefenbaker's whining exhalations for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I was waiting, Ray."
"For what? The wedding invitations to come back from the printer?"
Fraser turned that around in his head several times and still couldn't find a way it made sense. He tried substituting out the major words on the theory that Ray had made an unusually subtle error, but even that didn't help. He had no choice but to ask. "The wedding invitations?"
"Come on, Fraser. You mean to tell me you aren't head over heels for this girl? You aren't just waiting to pop the question?"
"What girl?"
"The girl, Fraser, the girl! Woman, female, lady, whatever! The girl whose curves you're fucking appreciating!"
It took several seconds for Fraser to process that, and he could feel his face radiating heat by the time he was done. He considered lying, but knew he'd never get it past Ray, and maybe this was his moment anyway.
"Ah." And then the words just stuck, just would not come. Fraser froze.
Ray studied him for a long moment. "Ah?" he repeated, doing a fairly good job of mimicking Fraser's pronunciation and tone.
Fraser studied his hands and wished desperately that something, anything, would happen to end this moment - mobsters and rabid wolverines could break into the Consulate, and he and Ray could repel them successfully, and they'd - he was stalling again. "Ray," he said quietly, "there's no girl."
"And this?" Ray brandished Plan D at him; Fraser wished he'd not inherited the Fraser trait of putting absolutely everything in writing. "Are you appreciating Diefenbaker's curves, here?" There was a pause, and then Ray muttered, apparently to himself, "Oh, god, I sure hope not, because that is - that is - he's not, right?"
Diefenbaker tossed his head and muttered to himself; Fraser had heard the rest of the speech, which was all about opposable thumbs and accidents of evolution and human stupidity, far too many times to listen at this critical moment. Instead, he attempted to clear his mind of all thought and speak without any interference from his brain. "Of course not, Ray. There is - that is - the." Fraser breathed in for a count of three, out for a count of three, and tried to recite all the moons of Saturn while saying the next sentence. "The curves in question were Mimas own. I mean, my own." He truly thought his face might spontaneously combust unless the wolverines appeared soon.
The pause that followed was so long that Fraser conquered his embarrassment and looked up. Ray was looking at Plan D, head tilted, clearly thinking. As Fraser watched, Ray shifted his gaze to the Cosmo lying on the desk. After all eternity passed, Ray looked directly at Fraser. He was smiling. No, grinning.
"A little inhibited, Frase?"
Fraser didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, so he was shocked to hear his own voice say, "Just a bit."
Ray stood. He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of Fraser's desk chair, moving so slowly and deliberately that Fraser, who could not draw breath, feared he might suffocate before Ray finished. Then he looked up, straight into Fraser's eyes. Fraser realized he was spontaneously combusting now, and the fire was centered in his groin, radiating out as far his hands, which burned to touch; Fraser had to curl his fingers under the edge of the cot to keep from stroking his own thighs.
Ray walked - no, that graceful near-dance could not be called walking, couldn't even be compared to any ordinary means of getting from place to place - Ray glided towards Fraser. And Fraser could not look away, could not stop watching the roll of his hips, thought he could reach orgasm from this alone if Ray would just keep moving like that, just keep letting him watch -
And Ray stopped. Stopped so close that Fraser, sitting on the cot, was treated to a delightful view of certain unusually prominent parts of Ray's anatomy. And then he reached down, and drew Fraser up against him, and brought their lips together.
Dear god. They were kissing. Fraser hardly had time to realize that before Ray's tongue was skimming his lips, teasing him, stroking him, and Fraser was so lost in the sensation of hands gliding along his sides, down, down, down that it took him whole seconds to open his mouth, and dear Lord. Ray's tongue was stroking along his, and then he was sucking on Fraser's tongue, and Fraser was prepared to spend the rest of his life like this, clutching Ray's shoulders far too tightly and hardly able to breathe and crushed against this solid heat - and then Ray pulled away. Fraser couldn't keep back the moan, couldn't keep from reaching for Ray's mouth again, but Ray just smiled.
And then he dragged his tongue across Fraser's jaw and licked teasingly at his lips. "That's okay, Ben. I'm perverted enough for both of us."
Epilogue: Night 604
~Kowalski~
Ray could hear the sound of the 4-wheel for half an hour before Ben finally got home; up here it sounded loud, like call-the-cops loud, but that was just 'cause this place was so quiet and empty.
Ray figured he'd get used to it; they'd only been living here four days.
When the engine shut off, Ray dumped the stew into a serving dish and carried it to the table, where the green beans were already waiting. When Ben and Dief came in, he was getting the rolls out of the oven.
Dief immediately came over to supervise the operation and rescue any rolls that happened to drop to the floor. Ben followed after he'd removed and hung up his outdoor gear.
"Hey," Ray said. He could see the brown-paper-wrapped package on the top of their stack of mail, and he grinned.
Ben's eyebrows were slightly drawn together, forming two tiny creases between them. "Ray," he said, holding up the package with just his forefinger and thumb, "did you order a magazine subscription?"
"Yeah," Ray said.
"You didn't have any magazines before."
"Nope. But this is one I think we'll need."
"It has my name on it." Ben looked up, caught Ray's nod, and efficiently removed the brown paper and plastic wrap. After studying the cover for a moment, he looked up, fighting a smile. "Ray, if they ever send this without the cover, everyone in town will wonder why I'm subscribed to Cosmopolitan."
"It adds mystery, which is good for an RCMP Inspector. And if they ask, just tell 'em for the sex tips."
Ben bit his lips, but a sound escaped anyway. "You gave me Cosmopolitan?"
Ray looked into Ben's eyes. "Well, yeah. I mean, you can't just buy them at a 7-11 up here." He paused, then added, "I got you a lifetime subscription."
Ben's face - it melted, there was no other word for it, and when he looked at Ray his eyes were all shiny. "Oh," he said softly. "Thank you." He walked over to Ray and knelt on the floor before him, wrapped his arms around him and pressed against his chest. "Thank you," he repeated, muffled by the sweater Ray was wearing.
Ray squeezed Ben's shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
Still talking directly to Ray's pectorals, Ben whispered, "I love you, too."
~End~
Note: When Ray awakens Fraser, Fraser thinks of the following quotes:
"One who is always deeply involved in what he is doing is above all embarrassment." - Friedrich Nietzsche
"I have exposed myself and am not ashamed to stand there naked. 'Shame' is what we call the monster that attached itself to men when they aspired beyond the animals." - Friedrich Nietzsche
"To be naked is to be deprived of our clothes, and the word implies some of the embarrassment most of us feel in that condition." - Kenneth Mackenzie Clark
"But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, ...its effect is not to be done away with." - George Eliot
Apparently Fraser had been spending quite a bit of time thinking about nudity and shame.