Apocalypse challenge by sweetestdrain
Title: Comes a Time
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski (-ish)
Warnings: apocalypse-y, pre-slash, canned goods, gratuitous crossover-esque references, doomfully hopeful! PG-14? no character death. slightly less than 3,000 words.
“Shouldn’t we be renting a storm cellar or a bomb shelter or something, then?”
Ray wasn’t worried at first. In his years on the force Ray had heard plenty of crackpots going on about how the end was nigh; crazy stuff like bad-tempered aliens with yellow spaceships, or a plague about to be loosed in some French city named after wine, or big sinkholes down in California that were gonna randomly start leaking demons. Along with Y2K and the crazy ideas that people got from those “Left Behind” books, Ray had enough to deal with without thinking about whether a comet was going to hit or if the gates to Hell would open.
Nothing ever came of it - really, jeez, wouldn’t Ray have been dead or sucked down to the underworld several times over by now if it had? - but this latest apocalypse rumor was different. This time, Fraser was worried. And Fraser worried meant Ray was worried. Hell, Fraser worried meant Diefenbaker was worried, and usually he and Ray were pretty calm around Fraser’s quirks.
But, here was the thing - the thing that made it real. It wasn’t that Fraser was stocking up on cans of food. It was that he didn’t actually, really think the stockpile would help them.
“It’s always important to be prepared for any eventuality, Ray,” Fraser had said, and carefully placed another can of peas in the cupboard.
“Shouldn’t we be renting a storm cellar or a bomb shelter or something, then?”
“No,” said Fraser tightly, “I’m afraid that wouldn’t do much good.”
And the chill that ran through Ray at the tone in Fraser’s voice was just not good. Not good at all.
There were no specific signs that the end of the world was coming, other than all of humanity suddenly terrified and freaking out. All the fish were swimming quietly in the ocean, and there were no swarms of locusts or blood raining from the sky. There were only two things that actually convinced Ray it was happening at all: the article on page A12 of the paper which mentioned curious fluctuations in some seismological readings; and the way Fraser’s hands held a slight tremor as he carefully stacked precise rows of beans, corn, peas, soup, tuna, and yams. Different sorts of quakes.
“Here,” said Ray. “Let me help you with that.” He reached over and covered Fraser’s grip on the Campbell’s chicken noodle. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Fraser’s hand, trying to give what little reassurance he could. Fraser’s face was tight at the edges, like he was keeping his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed all the time. At Ray’s touch, he seemed to loosen up a little. Just a little, but Ray would take it.
Fraser sighed, and nodded, and let Ray take the can of soup from his hand. Ray put it in the cupboard on top of the peas, purposely ignoring Fraser’s careful system. Fraser looked at the stack haplessly for a second, then shrugged and put a can of diced tomatoes on top of some water chestnuts that had been lingering in the back of Ray’s cabinet for the past four years. Ray had always thought he’d get around to using them in some stir-fry.
“So, I think I’m not completely believing this,” Ray admitted. “I can’t wrap my head around it. I should be freaking out that the world’s about to end, right? Or I should be doing something. There’ll... probably be riots, soon.” His stomach clenched at the thought of smashed shop windows, screams and panic and yelling.
“It may be shock,” said Fraser. “You may still be processing the information. I... I don’t know.”
Processing the information. Right. “Are you freaking out?” Ray felt he should ask, even though the freaked-out Fraser vibes were filling up the entire room.
Fraser laughed. “Yes, Ray. I’m... well, honestly, I’m scared.” He didn’t meet Ray’s eyes, simply started to rearrange the cans to make more room.
“Yeah,” said Ray. “Me too.”
“Ah,” said Fraser.
That’s it? Ray watched Fraser do a few more cans, getting a little pissed at Mr. “I’m Scared”-But-Still-Pretty-Unflappable.
Finally, Ray had to say something. “Hey, Fraser. Great time for one of those dinner party questions. Ready? Okay. Say that the world was going to end. What do you do with the time you have left?”
Fraser paused, staring at the can in his hand. (Dinty Moore beef stew. Fraser had bought out the grocery’s entire supply.)
“Do you visit the Caribbean, sit around on the beach all day? Do you go water skiing? Do you climb Everest? Do you get drunk? Do you stack cans all day?” Ray added. His own voice sounded uglier and uglier to him, but at the same time, who the fuck cared. Fraser obviously didn’t.
No, no, he was just - taking this out on Fraser. It wasn’t his fault. Ray took a breath to apologize, but as he began to speak, Fraser’s face changed.
Before Ray could react, Fraser turned and hurled the Dinty Moore directly at the wall, letting out a cry that was - Ray couldn’t describe it. Like an animal.
“Shit!” Ray stepped back in case Fraser started swinging but, -- no. Fraser was turning white. Fraser was -- “Hey! Hey, Fraser,” and Ray grabbed a hold of Fraser right as he was sinking to the floor, so instead of trying to catch him, he just followed him down.
Fraser was shaking, and Ray couldn’t be angry at him anymore for the life of him. There was no time. He held tight to Fraser, his hands spread across Fraser’s shuddering back. After a moment, Fraser swallowed loudly and drew back a little.
He smiled at Ray wanly, his control back in place. “Sorry, I -“
“Don’t be sorry,” Ray cut in. “Better you dent the wall than me or you, my amigo.”
Fraser closed his eyes, a thin smile still on his face. He gripped Ray’s wrist where it rested against his shoulder, and said, “The supply of food won’t do us much good, you know.”
“I know,” said Ray.
“I just thought -“ Fraser trailed off. “I thought it was something I could do. But it’s idiotic. The …world is ending with a bang, not a whimper. There’s no time.”
“How do you know that?” Ray asked. He squeezed Fraser’s shoulder tightly, to get his attention. “Nobody’s sure how long it’ll take.
“I can’t say,” said Fraser. “You... would probably be disinclined to believe my source. But I heard the news on the best authority. Another day. Maybe less.”
“Jesus.” Ray let go of Fraser and stood up. Fraser looked like the saddest thing Ray had ever seen, his eyes dark and bruised-looking, his skin pale. He clashed with Ray’s puke-green linoleum. “I mean - what the hell, Fraser. Are we all gonna sink into the sea? A comet? An asteroid? Martians? Fraser, feed me a fucking clue here.”
Fraser just looked miserable. He didn’t know, either.
Ray wondered if he was insane for believing Fraser. What if the world wasn’t ending that fast? What if - shit, what if it wasn’t ending at all? It’s not like the rumors were conclusive, and the news wasn’t saying anything at all about it, and people always got hysterical over nothing, and surely there was a possibility that --
But although his gut twisted, if there was one thing Ray had learned during his and Fraser’s crazy search for the Hand of Franklin, it was that he trusted Fraser beyond any sort of logic and reason. He trusted Fraser with everything. They were best friends, partners - hell, brothers --
His eyes met Fraser’s.
--- and more.
It was not a startling realization, but Ray was suddenly aware that Fraser was probably the person he loved most in the entire world. What there was left of it.
*
Silently agreeing to leave the damn cans where they were, Ray and Fraser sat down in front of the TV. They didn’t turn it on. Ray wondered if he should put on some music, but he really couldn’t think of anything he could stand to listen to.
At first Fraser just sat silently in Ray’s rarely-used armchair, but then he started to fidget. It was out of character enough for Ray to start getting weird and nervous again, so he left Fraser in the living room and went into the bedroom to calm down.
Once out of Fraser’s range of vision, Ray took a shaky breath. He didn’t know why he didn’t want Fraser to see how much he was wigging out, just that he had to get out of there. He sat down on his bed, the familiar feel of the mattress only one more thing that made him want to scream.
Ray wanted to do something.
He jumped up and started to pace, shaking his arms out and bending his knees while he was at it. If demons jumped out of the earth, Ray wanted to be ready. And if the continent sank into the sea, he’d - well, Ray’d drown pretty fucking quickly, he never really had learned to swim, but he’d try his best.
It was a couple minutes before he heard Fraser’ s voice in the other room. Probably talking to Dief, Ray thought, before he turned and saw that Dief was curled up in the bedroom doorway with a quizzical expression on his face, and was nowhere near seeing-distance of Fraser.
“Huh,” Ray muttered.
He approached the doorway quietly, not exactly sure what he’d see. Fraser was standing by the kitchen counter, back to Ray, and seemed to be arguing with the refrigerator.
“How do you know?” Fraser was asking angrily. “How can you just tell me this, like it doesn’t mean -“
Fraser abruptly fell silent, but looked progressively more pissed off every second.
“I realize that you have no personal stock in this, due to your unfortunate condition... of being dead,” Fraser bit out, “but it seems like you would have more sympathy for my situation. The world’s situation. You must know something about how we can fix this. You must.”
Fraser quieted, and looked down at the floor. After a long pause, he looked back up again. “Please,” he added quietly.
At this point, Ray, who had been inching forward to hear Fraser a little better, tripped over Diefenbaker and nearly brained himself on the doorknob. Fraser ignored him, eyes still fixed on Ray’s tacky Wrigley Stadium refrigerator magnet. Or maybe something in front of it. Was this the “best authority” Fraser had been talking about?
Limping over to the kitchen as quietly as he could, Ray came up to Fraser and, with only a brief hesitation, touched him gently on the shoulder. “Hey. Frase.”
Fraser closed his eyes. “Ray. I’d like you to meet my father.”
Ray stared at Fraser for a second, then turned to the fridge. “Nice to meet you, Fraser’s dad.”
There was a brief, expectant moment of silence. Ray wondered if Fraser’s dad was going to come out of the freezer. It was probably a lot like Canada in there.
Then, abruptly: “Of course he can’t see you!” Fraser snapped at the fridge. “He’s never been able to see you! Hell, I shouldn’t be able to see you!”
“Sorry?” Ray ventured.
“It’s not your fault,” said Fraser. “He’s just - well. You probably think I’ve let loose the reins of sanity, eh?”
“You said ‘eh’,” said Ray. So maybe that was kind of weak, but what else was he supposed to say?
“Ah. I apologize,” said Fraser. “But I must emphasize that I am telling the truth, and the reality of the situation -- as far as I can judge it.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” said Ray. “No more than you usually are.”
Fraser smiled slightly.
“Besides,” said Ray. “The world is about to end. Ghosts walking the earth don’t surprise me much at this point.”
“Thank you, Ray,” said Fraser. He addressed the fridge: “Are you sure there’s nothing...?”
Fraser stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘not quite.’”
His brow furrowed at whatever the ghost said. “No, I will not! I want to know what you’re not telling me.”
Pause. A long pause. Fraser was rapt - or mesmerized or whatever, listening to what Ray couldn’t hear. Suddenly, Ray realized his hand was still on Fraser’s shoulder. Fraser didn’t seem to mind.
Well - Ray guessed his hand must just like it there. He squeezed Fraser’s shoulder a little.
“Even the faintest hope is still a hope,” Fraser said to the fridge - his dad, whatever - finally. And oh, and oh god, just the word “hope” coming out of Fraser’s mouth made something in Ray seize and seem to lean towards him.
Fraser bowed his head. He was still trembling. Not so unflapped, not one bit.
“Fraser,” said Ray. “What is it?”
“He says - there might be a way,” said Fraser, like he didn’t quite believe it yet.
“Oh,” said Ray. “Okay. Okay. So now we do something about it, right?”
“Thank you,” said Fraser quietly. It seemed like he was still talking to his dad, but when he finally looked up, he was looking at Ray.
*
So, apparently, as it turned out, stuff like this happened all the time.
After getting the full scoop from Fraser’s dad, Ray immediately packed up his gun, and Fraser put on his hat and got all dressed up in his uniform, like that bright red Mountie suit would shield him from whatever came next. Hell - maybe it would.
Then they made a plan. A crazy plan. But most importantly? A plan. Fraser loaded one last cardboard box of canned goods in the GTO, then turned to Ray.
“Hey. The sky is turning orange,” said Ray. He wondered if it was just the sun setting or if it was something else. He briefly scratched Dief behind the ears and ushered him into the backseat.
“Yes,” said Fraser, after a long glance at the sky. “Yes, indeed it is.” He looked over at Ray and smiled. “We should be on our way.”
“You’re loving this now, aren’t you?” Ray said. “Now you get to save humanity from extinction. This is like, the ultimate ‘Maintain the Right’ payoff.” He raised his eyebrows at Fraser and aimed a lazy punch at his side. Sure, they still might all die - but with something to actually do about it, Ray felt lighter. And Fraser --
Fraser was full-on grinning now. He was grinning at Ray like Ray was an ice field in the middle of Chicago. It was a good thing Ray wasn’t actually an ice field, he figured, because otherwise he’d be pretty melted from the warmth of those eyes on him.
“Ray. Ray, I’m so glad you’re with me,” said Fraser. “I... am so very glad.”
Ray grinned back at him. “Me too, buddy. Now, tell me again why we’re going to Cleveland?”
“Because that’s where we can do the most good,” said Fraser. “There’s a rift, a hole there between this realm and that of -“
“Fraser,” interrupted Ray. “Never mind. I’ve had enough of the vampires and demons and monsters-under-the-bed, oh my, until we actually get to Cleveland and hook up with the evil-fighting folks. I was mainly just thinking of the part where it’s Cleveland.”
“Ah,” said Fraser. “I must admit, I share your incredulity for the, err, choice of locale. But -“
Dief whuffed something at them from the backseat. Probably saying “get the hell in the car” or something.
Ray jerked his head toward the car. “We should get going. Help the folks that need helping. Save the world. You up for it? Cause I am totally pumped, here.”
“Yes. Just one thing,” said Fraser.
Ray opened the car door and started to get in, but Fraser grasped him by the arm. “Wait, Ray. Ray.”
“Yeah?”
Fraser turned Ray around, stepped in that one tiny step, brought his other hand up gently to touch Ray’s cheek, and kissed him. Fraser still had his hat on, and it bumped against Ray’s forehead and fell off onto the ground.
Ray almost broke away in surprise, but then his mind caught up with the rest of him, and it was - yes. Fraser. They’d been building up to this for years.
Fraser kissed him as long and as deeply as seemed possible. By the time he broke away, Ray’s jaw ached, his lips felt raw, and his back was sore where it was smushed up against the side of the car - but the kiss had still ended too soon.
Fraser was breathing hard, but he drew back enough to meet Ray’s eyes. He looked disheveled and ...really, way too pretty. Ray wanted to kiss him again. At least twice. Okay, lots of kissing was needed, but the world was ending and they had to go. Fraser’s timing, as always, was deeply frustrating.
“What was that for?” Ray murmured, which had to be the most clichéd question to ask after a totally addlepating, mind-blowing kiss, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Because... it’s always important to be prepared for any eventuality,” said Fraser. Then he closed his eyes and leaned into Ray, their foreheads touching. “Ray,” he added quietly - not a precursor to saying more, just stating his name like it was a fact.
Ray closed his eyes too, blocking out that vividly orange sky, and concentrated on just feeling Fraser pressed up against him and the warm little breaths that Fraser was huffing against his mouth. “So, what,” said Ray, “You kissed me now in case we die tomorrow?”
Fraser gave a little sad laugh, and shook his head slightly. His hands came to rest on Ray’s hips, just comfortable, like they belonged there.
“No,” Fraser said. “Not at all. I kissed you in case we live.”
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski (-ish)
Warnings: apocalypse-y, pre-slash, canned goods, gratuitous crossover-esque references, doomfully hopeful! PG-14? no character death. slightly less than 3,000 words.
“Shouldn’t we be renting a storm cellar or a bomb shelter or something, then?”
Ray wasn’t worried at first. In his years on the force Ray had heard plenty of crackpots going on about how the end was nigh; crazy stuff like bad-tempered aliens with yellow spaceships, or a plague about to be loosed in some French city named after wine, or big sinkholes down in California that were gonna randomly start leaking demons. Along with Y2K and the crazy ideas that people got from those “Left Behind” books, Ray had enough to deal with without thinking about whether a comet was going to hit or if the gates to Hell would open.
Nothing ever came of it - really, jeez, wouldn’t Ray have been dead or sucked down to the underworld several times over by now if it had? - but this latest apocalypse rumor was different. This time, Fraser was worried. And Fraser worried meant Ray was worried. Hell, Fraser worried meant Diefenbaker was worried, and usually he and Ray were pretty calm around Fraser’s quirks.
But, here was the thing - the thing that made it real. It wasn’t that Fraser was stocking up on cans of food. It was that he didn’t actually, really think the stockpile would help them.
“It’s always important to be prepared for any eventuality, Ray,” Fraser had said, and carefully placed another can of peas in the cupboard.
“Shouldn’t we be renting a storm cellar or a bomb shelter or something, then?”
“No,” said Fraser tightly, “I’m afraid that wouldn’t do much good.”
And the chill that ran through Ray at the tone in Fraser’s voice was just not good. Not good at all.
There were no specific signs that the end of the world was coming, other than all of humanity suddenly terrified and freaking out. All the fish were swimming quietly in the ocean, and there were no swarms of locusts or blood raining from the sky. There were only two things that actually convinced Ray it was happening at all: the article on page A12 of the paper which mentioned curious fluctuations in some seismological readings; and the way Fraser’s hands held a slight tremor as he carefully stacked precise rows of beans, corn, peas, soup, tuna, and yams. Different sorts of quakes.
“Here,” said Ray. “Let me help you with that.” He reached over and covered Fraser’s grip on the Campbell’s chicken noodle. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Fraser’s hand, trying to give what little reassurance he could. Fraser’s face was tight at the edges, like he was keeping his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed all the time. At Ray’s touch, he seemed to loosen up a little. Just a little, but Ray would take it.
Fraser sighed, and nodded, and let Ray take the can of soup from his hand. Ray put it in the cupboard on top of the peas, purposely ignoring Fraser’s careful system. Fraser looked at the stack haplessly for a second, then shrugged and put a can of diced tomatoes on top of some water chestnuts that had been lingering in the back of Ray’s cabinet for the past four years. Ray had always thought he’d get around to using them in some stir-fry.
“So, I think I’m not completely believing this,” Ray admitted. “I can’t wrap my head around it. I should be freaking out that the world’s about to end, right? Or I should be doing something. There’ll... probably be riots, soon.” His stomach clenched at the thought of smashed shop windows, screams and panic and yelling.
“It may be shock,” said Fraser. “You may still be processing the information. I... I don’t know.”
Processing the information. Right. “Are you freaking out?” Ray felt he should ask, even though the freaked-out Fraser vibes were filling up the entire room.
Fraser laughed. “Yes, Ray. I’m... well, honestly, I’m scared.” He didn’t meet Ray’s eyes, simply started to rearrange the cans to make more room.
“Yeah,” said Ray. “Me too.”
“Ah,” said Fraser.
That’s it? Ray watched Fraser do a few more cans, getting a little pissed at Mr. “I’m Scared”-But-Still-Pretty-Unflappable.
Finally, Ray had to say something. “Hey, Fraser. Great time for one of those dinner party questions. Ready? Okay. Say that the world was going to end. What do you do with the time you have left?”
Fraser paused, staring at the can in his hand. (Dinty Moore beef stew. Fraser had bought out the grocery’s entire supply.)
“Do you visit the Caribbean, sit around on the beach all day? Do you go water skiing? Do you climb Everest? Do you get drunk? Do you stack cans all day?” Ray added. His own voice sounded uglier and uglier to him, but at the same time, who the fuck cared. Fraser obviously didn’t.
No, no, he was just - taking this out on Fraser. It wasn’t his fault. Ray took a breath to apologize, but as he began to speak, Fraser’s face changed.
Before Ray could react, Fraser turned and hurled the Dinty Moore directly at the wall, letting out a cry that was - Ray couldn’t describe it. Like an animal.
“Shit!” Ray stepped back in case Fraser started swinging but, -- no. Fraser was turning white. Fraser was -- “Hey! Hey, Fraser,” and Ray grabbed a hold of Fraser right as he was sinking to the floor, so instead of trying to catch him, he just followed him down.
Fraser was shaking, and Ray couldn’t be angry at him anymore for the life of him. There was no time. He held tight to Fraser, his hands spread across Fraser’s shuddering back. After a moment, Fraser swallowed loudly and drew back a little.
He smiled at Ray wanly, his control back in place. “Sorry, I -“
“Don’t be sorry,” Ray cut in. “Better you dent the wall than me or you, my amigo.”
Fraser closed his eyes, a thin smile still on his face. He gripped Ray’s wrist where it rested against his shoulder, and said, “The supply of food won’t do us much good, you know.”
“I know,” said Ray.
“I just thought -“ Fraser trailed off. “I thought it was something I could do. But it’s idiotic. The …world is ending with a bang, not a whimper. There’s no time.”
“How do you know that?” Ray asked. He squeezed Fraser’s shoulder tightly, to get his attention. “Nobody’s sure how long it’ll take.
“I can’t say,” said Fraser. “You... would probably be disinclined to believe my source. But I heard the news on the best authority. Another day. Maybe less.”
“Jesus.” Ray let go of Fraser and stood up. Fraser looked like the saddest thing Ray had ever seen, his eyes dark and bruised-looking, his skin pale. He clashed with Ray’s puke-green linoleum. “I mean - what the hell, Fraser. Are we all gonna sink into the sea? A comet? An asteroid? Martians? Fraser, feed me a fucking clue here.”
Fraser just looked miserable. He didn’t know, either.
Ray wondered if he was insane for believing Fraser. What if the world wasn’t ending that fast? What if - shit, what if it wasn’t ending at all? It’s not like the rumors were conclusive, and the news wasn’t saying anything at all about it, and people always got hysterical over nothing, and surely there was a possibility that --
But although his gut twisted, if there was one thing Ray had learned during his and Fraser’s crazy search for the Hand of Franklin, it was that he trusted Fraser beyond any sort of logic and reason. He trusted Fraser with everything. They were best friends, partners - hell, brothers --
His eyes met Fraser’s.
--- and more.
It was not a startling realization, but Ray was suddenly aware that Fraser was probably the person he loved most in the entire world. What there was left of it.
*
Silently agreeing to leave the damn cans where they were, Ray and Fraser sat down in front of the TV. They didn’t turn it on. Ray wondered if he should put on some music, but he really couldn’t think of anything he could stand to listen to.
At first Fraser just sat silently in Ray’s rarely-used armchair, but then he started to fidget. It was out of character enough for Ray to start getting weird and nervous again, so he left Fraser in the living room and went into the bedroom to calm down.
Once out of Fraser’s range of vision, Ray took a shaky breath. He didn’t know why he didn’t want Fraser to see how much he was wigging out, just that he had to get out of there. He sat down on his bed, the familiar feel of the mattress only one more thing that made him want to scream.
Ray wanted to do something.
He jumped up and started to pace, shaking his arms out and bending his knees while he was at it. If demons jumped out of the earth, Ray wanted to be ready. And if the continent sank into the sea, he’d - well, Ray’d drown pretty fucking quickly, he never really had learned to swim, but he’d try his best.
It was a couple minutes before he heard Fraser’ s voice in the other room. Probably talking to Dief, Ray thought, before he turned and saw that Dief was curled up in the bedroom doorway with a quizzical expression on his face, and was nowhere near seeing-distance of Fraser.
“Huh,” Ray muttered.
He approached the doorway quietly, not exactly sure what he’d see. Fraser was standing by the kitchen counter, back to Ray, and seemed to be arguing with the refrigerator.
“How do you know?” Fraser was asking angrily. “How can you just tell me this, like it doesn’t mean -“
Fraser abruptly fell silent, but looked progressively more pissed off every second.
“I realize that you have no personal stock in this, due to your unfortunate condition... of being dead,” Fraser bit out, “but it seems like you would have more sympathy for my situation. The world’s situation. You must know something about how we can fix this. You must.”
Fraser quieted, and looked down at the floor. After a long pause, he looked back up again. “Please,” he added quietly.
At this point, Ray, who had been inching forward to hear Fraser a little better, tripped over Diefenbaker and nearly brained himself on the doorknob. Fraser ignored him, eyes still fixed on Ray’s tacky Wrigley Stadium refrigerator magnet. Or maybe something in front of it. Was this the “best authority” Fraser had been talking about?
Limping over to the kitchen as quietly as he could, Ray came up to Fraser and, with only a brief hesitation, touched him gently on the shoulder. “Hey. Frase.”
Fraser closed his eyes. “Ray. I’d like you to meet my father.”
Ray stared at Fraser for a second, then turned to the fridge. “Nice to meet you, Fraser’s dad.”
There was a brief, expectant moment of silence. Ray wondered if Fraser’s dad was going to come out of the freezer. It was probably a lot like Canada in there.
Then, abruptly: “Of course he can’t see you!” Fraser snapped at the fridge. “He’s never been able to see you! Hell, I shouldn’t be able to see you!”
“Sorry?” Ray ventured.
“It’s not your fault,” said Fraser. “He’s just - well. You probably think I’ve let loose the reins of sanity, eh?”
“You said ‘eh’,” said Ray. So maybe that was kind of weak, but what else was he supposed to say?
“Ah. I apologize,” said Fraser. “But I must emphasize that I am telling the truth, and the reality of the situation -- as far as I can judge it.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” said Ray. “No more than you usually are.”
Fraser smiled slightly.
“Besides,” said Ray. “The world is about to end. Ghosts walking the earth don’t surprise me much at this point.”
“Thank you, Ray,” said Fraser. He addressed the fridge: “Are you sure there’s nothing...?”
Fraser stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘not quite.’”
His brow furrowed at whatever the ghost said. “No, I will not! I want to know what you’re not telling me.”
Pause. A long pause. Fraser was rapt - or mesmerized or whatever, listening to what Ray couldn’t hear. Suddenly, Ray realized his hand was still on Fraser’s shoulder. Fraser didn’t seem to mind.
Well - Ray guessed his hand must just like it there. He squeezed Fraser’s shoulder a little.
“Even the faintest hope is still a hope,” Fraser said to the fridge - his dad, whatever - finally. And oh, and oh god, just the word “hope” coming out of Fraser’s mouth made something in Ray seize and seem to lean towards him.
Fraser bowed his head. He was still trembling. Not so unflapped, not one bit.
“Fraser,” said Ray. “What is it?”
“He says - there might be a way,” said Fraser, like he didn’t quite believe it yet.
“Oh,” said Ray. “Okay. Okay. So now we do something about it, right?”
“Thank you,” said Fraser quietly. It seemed like he was still talking to his dad, but when he finally looked up, he was looking at Ray.
*
So, apparently, as it turned out, stuff like this happened all the time.
After getting the full scoop from Fraser’s dad, Ray immediately packed up his gun, and Fraser put on his hat and got all dressed up in his uniform, like that bright red Mountie suit would shield him from whatever came next. Hell - maybe it would.
Then they made a plan. A crazy plan. But most importantly? A plan. Fraser loaded one last cardboard box of canned goods in the GTO, then turned to Ray.
“Hey. The sky is turning orange,” said Ray. He wondered if it was just the sun setting or if it was something else. He briefly scratched Dief behind the ears and ushered him into the backseat.
“Yes,” said Fraser, after a long glance at the sky. “Yes, indeed it is.” He looked over at Ray and smiled. “We should be on our way.”
“You’re loving this now, aren’t you?” Ray said. “Now you get to save humanity from extinction. This is like, the ultimate ‘Maintain the Right’ payoff.” He raised his eyebrows at Fraser and aimed a lazy punch at his side. Sure, they still might all die - but with something to actually do about it, Ray felt lighter. And Fraser --
Fraser was full-on grinning now. He was grinning at Ray like Ray was an ice field in the middle of Chicago. It was a good thing Ray wasn’t actually an ice field, he figured, because otherwise he’d be pretty melted from the warmth of those eyes on him.
“Ray. Ray, I’m so glad you’re with me,” said Fraser. “I... am so very glad.”
Ray grinned back at him. “Me too, buddy. Now, tell me again why we’re going to Cleveland?”
“Because that’s where we can do the most good,” said Fraser. “There’s a rift, a hole there between this realm and that of -“
“Fraser,” interrupted Ray. “Never mind. I’ve had enough of the vampires and demons and monsters-under-the-bed, oh my, until we actually get to Cleveland and hook up with the evil-fighting folks. I was mainly just thinking of the part where it’s Cleveland.”
“Ah,” said Fraser. “I must admit, I share your incredulity for the, err, choice of locale. But -“
Dief whuffed something at them from the backseat. Probably saying “get the hell in the car” or something.
Ray jerked his head toward the car. “We should get going. Help the folks that need helping. Save the world. You up for it? Cause I am totally pumped, here.”
“Yes. Just one thing,” said Fraser.
Ray opened the car door and started to get in, but Fraser grasped him by the arm. “Wait, Ray. Ray.”
“Yeah?”
Fraser turned Ray around, stepped in that one tiny step, brought his other hand up gently to touch Ray’s cheek, and kissed him. Fraser still had his hat on, and it bumped against Ray’s forehead and fell off onto the ground.
Ray almost broke away in surprise, but then his mind caught up with the rest of him, and it was - yes. Fraser. They’d been building up to this for years.
Fraser kissed him as long and as deeply as seemed possible. By the time he broke away, Ray’s jaw ached, his lips felt raw, and his back was sore where it was smushed up against the side of the car - but the kiss had still ended too soon.
Fraser was breathing hard, but he drew back enough to meet Ray’s eyes. He looked disheveled and ...really, way too pretty. Ray wanted to kiss him again. At least twice. Okay, lots of kissing was needed, but the world was ending and they had to go. Fraser’s timing, as always, was deeply frustrating.
“What was that for?” Ray murmured, which had to be the most clichéd question to ask after a totally addlepating, mind-blowing kiss, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Because... it’s always important to be prepared for any eventuality,” said Fraser. Then he closed his eyes and leaned into Ray, their foreheads touching. “Ray,” he added quietly - not a precursor to saying more, just stating his name like it was a fact.
Ray closed his eyes too, blocking out that vividly orange sky, and concentrated on just feeling Fraser pressed up against him and the warm little breaths that Fraser was huffing against his mouth. “So, what,” said Ray, “You kissed me now in case we die tomorrow?”
Fraser gave a little sad laugh, and shook his head slightly. His hands came to rest on Ray’s hips, just comfortable, like they belonged there.
“No,” Fraser said. “Not at all. I kissed you in case we live.”