New DS fic: "Small Gifts" (F&V) - for belmanoir!
This is for belmanoir, on the occasion of her birthday. :) I used one of the Ray's Fingerprints prompts, even! Hee.
Title: Small Gifts
Author: SDWolfpup
Rating: PG
Word count: 1300
Pairing: Fraser & Vecchio (w/slashy overtones)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little.
Prompt: 5. Fraser's sneakers
A/N: Many thanks to brynnmck who waved her beta-wand and worked her magic and encouraged me to get this done. Any remaining problems are mine.
Ray nudged a pristine white sneaker with the toe of his own well-used one. "Whose are these?" he asked, relieved to have kept the thread of jealousy clear from his voice. Fraser was allowed to have other friends, for Christ's sake.
Fraser poked his head out from the closet door he was changing behind. "They're mine, Ray." His head disappeared.
"You have sneakers? Why do you have sneakers?"
Fraser popped back out. "You said you wanted to play basketball, and my boots would scuff the gymnasium floor, so I purchased a pair of court-appropriate shoes." He disappeared again and Ray heard the sound of buckles jingling.
Ray used the noise to hide the sound of him shifting the plastic bag he was holding behind his back. He'd felt bad about ambushing Benny with the basketball game, but that was why he'd bought Fraser tennis shoes, as an American version of a peace pipe. When Fraser had opened the door to Ray's swift knock, the first thing he'd noticed after Fraser's bright, pleased smile was the shockingly white pair of tennis shoes sitting politely by the door.
"You didn't have to buy shoes, you know," Ray said, his voice too loud in the apartment. He nudged the shoes again, and got dirt on the tips. "Or basketball shorts."
"Nonsense, Ray. I couldn't very well ask you to buy them. Just one more minute, and I'll be changed."
Ray sighed and set the bag on Fraser's table, then slumped into one of the rickety chairs. Fraser’s hat was sitting in a wooden frame in the corner, and there was a pair of starched boxers on the ironing board in the corner, but other than that, there was nothing else in the apartment that wasn’t some decrepit castoff from the thrift store. The room had none of the signs of a normal bachelor’s apartment. But what Fraser didn't know about being normal could fill a whole city of basketball courts. They hadn't been working together that long, but even an hour was long enough to figure that something was a little off about Benny. Usually it was the fact he kept holding the door for everybody, and then lecturing Ray that scowling while holding the door was just as impolite as not holding it all.
Fraser came out from behind his closet door, smiling. He was wearing sweat pants under his basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, both emblazoned with “RCMP” along the limbs. His hair was as neatly combed as always, but in the sweats he looked almost comfortable, like someone you might see walking down any street in Chicago. It was weird.
"Nice getup, Benny. Where do you get those sweats, Mountie K-Mart?"
Fraser looked down at himself. "They're standard issue. Are they not appropriate?"
Ray sighed again, levered himself up out of the chair without breaking it and judged that a victory. "Nah, they're fine. Get your shoes on, the guys have usually started the pickup games by now."
Fraser sat down on the other chair with his bright new sneakers, taking a moment to rub off the dirt that Ray had applied. He glanced at the bag on the table while tugging one of the shoes on. "What's in there?"
"Nothing," Ray said, tugging it closer. Fraser looked at him in a way that Ray was already getting wary of. "I bought you some shoes, all right? I didn't think you'd have any."
Fraser's hand stilled on the laces of his sneakers, and that blinding smile was back. "You bought me tennis shoes? How very thoughtful of you, Ray!"
Ray grinned at the pure pleasure in Fraser's voice. Typical Benny, being more pleased at Ray's politeness than the shoes themselves. "Hey, what're you doing?" Ray asked, when he realized Fraser was swiftly pulling off his sneaker.
"I'm going to wear the shoes you bought me."
"Aw, Benny, you don't have to do that. They haven't been worn, I can take 'em back." But he found himself handing the bag over, and feeling sincerely pleased when Fraser pulled the shoes out, made a big fuss over the blue stripes along the side, the heft of the shoes, the way the tread on the bottoms was "clearly manufactured with peak athleticism in mind."
And was equally embarrassed when the shoes were too small.
Fraser didn't even say anything, he just kept trying to stuff his foot into the shoe, yanking and tugging desperately at the heel until Ray rolled his eyes and plucked the shoe off of Fraser's foot himself. "See, problem solved," Ray said, trying to cover up his mortification with good old Vecchio bullheadedness. "Let's just get these on you and get going." Ray picked up Fraser's original sneakers, knelt down, grabbed Fraser's ankle, and had the shoe halfway on Fraser's foot before he even realized what he was doing. And how close his face was to Fraser's calf.
"Um," Ray said, his fingers still tight around Fraser's ankle. It was a nice ankle, connected to, from what Ray's up-close-and-personal view could tell, a very nice calf. He glanced up, saw Fraser looking back down at him with, well, Ray couldn't tell what the hell Fraser was thinking. Ray swallowed hard, commanded his fingers to unclench from around Fraser's leg, and let go of the shoe so it was hanging off of Fraser's foot. "Sorry."
"That's quite all right," Fraser said, and his voice was that same polite Mountie voice it always was. Wasn't it?
Fraser finished up the job in silence, while Ray stuffed the useless sneakers into the bag and wished he could melt into the floor. What kind of partner was he? Grabbing Benny's leg like that, like it was okay, like Benny didn't flinch any time a woman even brushed up near him. Sure, Fraser wasn't that way with Ray, but that was just normal stuff - arms, backs, maybe a comforting pat to the chest. A man's leg was a totally different story. A story Ray was not interested in reading right now, not with Benton Fraser, Super Mountie. No matter what his legs looked like in regulation RCMP sweats.
When Fraser's feet hit the floor, finally clad in any pair of sneakers at all, Ray hurried out the door so fast he was almost to the next landing down by the time Fraser had the door closed. But Fraser had caught up to him by the time they hit the street. As Ray unlocked the trunk and threw the shoes in, Fraser gave him one of those manly hands-on-the-back.
"I do appreciate the gesture, Ray."
"Yeah, I know, Benny."
"I hope you're not mad at me. My grandmother always complained about the size of my feet, how difficult it was to find age-appropriate shoes in -"
"Mad at you?" Ray gaped. "Because your feet are too big?"
"Well," Fraser still had his hand on Ray's back, and Ray felt the fingers curl a little. "Yes?"
Ray shook his head. He kept forgetting who he was talking to, the way Fraser always assumed the bad things were somehow a slam on him, and not just Ray's standard way of making it through another crappy day. "I was embarrassed, Benny, not mad. I got you this gift, you make such a big deal out of it - which was nice, thank you," he added hurriedly, not wanting Fraser to get the wrong idea about that, too, "and then you can't even use it. I felt dumb. It's not your fault."
"There's no need to be embarrassed, Ray. I'm grateful, not because of what you got me, but because you took the time to think of me. That’s gift enough." Fraser's mouth curved into a small bow of a smile, something intimate and warm that Ray'd never seen before, and Ray felt like he was the one who'd gotten a gift. Fraser patted him on the back and headed for the passenger door to the Riv, lecturing Dief about not letting his claws scratch the court's floor once they got there.
Ray slammed the trunk shut, unable to stop smiling. He might still have a lot to learn about Benny, but he figured he was doing all right.
Title: Small Gifts
Author: SDWolfpup
Rating: PG
Word count: 1300
Pairing: Fraser & Vecchio (w/slashy overtones)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little.
Prompt: 5. Fraser's sneakers
A/N: Many thanks to brynnmck who waved her beta-wand and worked her magic and encouraged me to get this done. Any remaining problems are mine.
Ray nudged a pristine white sneaker with the toe of his own well-used one. "Whose are these?" he asked, relieved to have kept the thread of jealousy clear from his voice. Fraser was allowed to have other friends, for Christ's sake.
Fraser poked his head out from the closet door he was changing behind. "They're mine, Ray." His head disappeared.
"You have sneakers? Why do you have sneakers?"
Fraser popped back out. "You said you wanted to play basketball, and my boots would scuff the gymnasium floor, so I purchased a pair of court-appropriate shoes." He disappeared again and Ray heard the sound of buckles jingling.
Ray used the noise to hide the sound of him shifting the plastic bag he was holding behind his back. He'd felt bad about ambushing Benny with the basketball game, but that was why he'd bought Fraser tennis shoes, as an American version of a peace pipe. When Fraser had opened the door to Ray's swift knock, the first thing he'd noticed after Fraser's bright, pleased smile was the shockingly white pair of tennis shoes sitting politely by the door.
"You didn't have to buy shoes, you know," Ray said, his voice too loud in the apartment. He nudged the shoes again, and got dirt on the tips. "Or basketball shorts."
"Nonsense, Ray. I couldn't very well ask you to buy them. Just one more minute, and I'll be changed."
Ray sighed and set the bag on Fraser's table, then slumped into one of the rickety chairs. Fraser’s hat was sitting in a wooden frame in the corner, and there was a pair of starched boxers on the ironing board in the corner, but other than that, there was nothing else in the apartment that wasn’t some decrepit castoff from the thrift store. The room had none of the signs of a normal bachelor’s apartment. But what Fraser didn't know about being normal could fill a whole city of basketball courts. They hadn't been working together that long, but even an hour was long enough to figure that something was a little off about Benny. Usually it was the fact he kept holding the door for everybody, and then lecturing Ray that scowling while holding the door was just as impolite as not holding it all.
Fraser came out from behind his closet door, smiling. He was wearing sweat pants under his basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, both emblazoned with “RCMP” along the limbs. His hair was as neatly combed as always, but in the sweats he looked almost comfortable, like someone you might see walking down any street in Chicago. It was weird.
"Nice getup, Benny. Where do you get those sweats, Mountie K-Mart?"
Fraser looked down at himself. "They're standard issue. Are they not appropriate?"
Ray sighed again, levered himself up out of the chair without breaking it and judged that a victory. "Nah, they're fine. Get your shoes on, the guys have usually started the pickup games by now."
Fraser sat down on the other chair with his bright new sneakers, taking a moment to rub off the dirt that Ray had applied. He glanced at the bag on the table while tugging one of the shoes on. "What's in there?"
"Nothing," Ray said, tugging it closer. Fraser looked at him in a way that Ray was already getting wary of. "I bought you some shoes, all right? I didn't think you'd have any."
Fraser's hand stilled on the laces of his sneakers, and that blinding smile was back. "You bought me tennis shoes? How very thoughtful of you, Ray!"
Ray grinned at the pure pleasure in Fraser's voice. Typical Benny, being more pleased at Ray's politeness than the shoes themselves. "Hey, what're you doing?" Ray asked, when he realized Fraser was swiftly pulling off his sneaker.
"I'm going to wear the shoes you bought me."
"Aw, Benny, you don't have to do that. They haven't been worn, I can take 'em back." But he found himself handing the bag over, and feeling sincerely pleased when Fraser pulled the shoes out, made a big fuss over the blue stripes along the side, the heft of the shoes, the way the tread on the bottoms was "clearly manufactured with peak athleticism in mind."
And was equally embarrassed when the shoes were too small.
Fraser didn't even say anything, he just kept trying to stuff his foot into the shoe, yanking and tugging desperately at the heel until Ray rolled his eyes and plucked the shoe off of Fraser's foot himself. "See, problem solved," Ray said, trying to cover up his mortification with good old Vecchio bullheadedness. "Let's just get these on you and get going." Ray picked up Fraser's original sneakers, knelt down, grabbed Fraser's ankle, and had the shoe halfway on Fraser's foot before he even realized what he was doing. And how close his face was to Fraser's calf.
"Um," Ray said, his fingers still tight around Fraser's ankle. It was a nice ankle, connected to, from what Ray's up-close-and-personal view could tell, a very nice calf. He glanced up, saw Fraser looking back down at him with, well, Ray couldn't tell what the hell Fraser was thinking. Ray swallowed hard, commanded his fingers to unclench from around Fraser's leg, and let go of the shoe so it was hanging off of Fraser's foot. "Sorry."
"That's quite all right," Fraser said, and his voice was that same polite Mountie voice it always was. Wasn't it?
Fraser finished up the job in silence, while Ray stuffed the useless sneakers into the bag and wished he could melt into the floor. What kind of partner was he? Grabbing Benny's leg like that, like it was okay, like Benny didn't flinch any time a woman even brushed up near him. Sure, Fraser wasn't that way with Ray, but that was just normal stuff - arms, backs, maybe a comforting pat to the chest. A man's leg was a totally different story. A story Ray was not interested in reading right now, not with Benton Fraser, Super Mountie. No matter what his legs looked like in regulation RCMP sweats.
When Fraser's feet hit the floor, finally clad in any pair of sneakers at all, Ray hurried out the door so fast he was almost to the next landing down by the time Fraser had the door closed. But Fraser had caught up to him by the time they hit the street. As Ray unlocked the trunk and threw the shoes in, Fraser gave him one of those manly hands-on-the-back.
"I do appreciate the gesture, Ray."
"Yeah, I know, Benny."
"I hope you're not mad at me. My grandmother always complained about the size of my feet, how difficult it was to find age-appropriate shoes in -"
"Mad at you?" Ray gaped. "Because your feet are too big?"
"Well," Fraser still had his hand on Ray's back, and Ray felt the fingers curl a little. "Yes?"
Ray shook his head. He kept forgetting who he was talking to, the way Fraser always assumed the bad things were somehow a slam on him, and not just Ray's standard way of making it through another crappy day. "I was embarrassed, Benny, not mad. I got you this gift, you make such a big deal out of it - which was nice, thank you," he added hurriedly, not wanting Fraser to get the wrong idea about that, too, "and then you can't even use it. I felt dumb. It's not your fault."
"There's no need to be embarrassed, Ray. I'm grateful, not because of what you got me, but because you took the time to think of me. That’s gift enough." Fraser's mouth curved into a small bow of a smile, something intimate and warm that Ray'd never seen before, and Ray felt like he was the one who'd gotten a gift. Fraser patted him on the back and headed for the passenger door to the Riv, lecturing Dief about not letting his claws scratch the court's floor once they got there.
Ray slammed the trunk shut, unable to stop smiling. He might still have a lot to learn about Benny, but he figured he was doing all right.