Fic: Lucky Hat due South, F/K for inuvikdotcom
Title: Lucky Hat
Author: shoemaster/Allison
Prompt: August 4-7 Midnight Sun Slo-Pitch Tourney, for inuvikdotcom
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 1100 words
Thanks to hermionemalfoy for the beta
Baseball is the American past time. Slo-pitch softball isn’t exactly the real thing, but Canada has weird rules for everything. As one of the few American émigrés living in Inuvik, and the only one with the very public position of Benton Fraser’s American partner, it is Ray’s responsibility to uphold his country’s honor when it comes to baseball. Or softball.
Needless to say, the pressure is on.
But see, Ray has his lucky hat.
It’s the hat he was wearing when he hit the homerun in Willison; the hat he was wearing that day the summer after Franklin’s hand, almost six years ago now.
He and Fraser were out walking Dief, the way they always did. It had to have been close to nine o’clock, but that time of year it was still mostly light out and hot as hell. So Ray was wearing his lucky hat, and Fraser was in his jeans and one of those tight t-shirts he usually wears under his flannels, but even he was sacrificing propriety for a bit of relief from the summer heat.
Ray doesn’t know what they’d been talking about or what the hell he’d been thinking, but in just one moment, when Fraser turned to look at him, smiling, Ray hooked an arm around the back of his neck and stood there for just a second, grinning back. He could feel the sweat on the back of Fraser’s neck, could see the hesitation and confusion in his eyes, but also a twinge of hope.
That was when Ray decided to go for it, right in the middle of the park with Dief snuffling around them, cars honking endlessly in the streets and with Fraser, smiling at him. He doesn’t remember being nervous it was just the thing to do at that time. He couldn’t not lean forward just a little bit, 'til the hot breath that had been hitting his cheek was on his lips and then in his mouth as Fraser’s lips parted against his in a contented sigh.
Ray’s arm tightened around Fraser’s neck, and he could feel Fraser’s hands tugging at the sides of his shirt, anchoring them. Eventually, though, they had to move, had to get out of the park and back to Ray’s air conditioned apartment to cool off and get all sweaty all over again.
So, yeah, that was six years ago, and they’d moved up here, to Inuvik, last year, after a two year stint in Norman Wells.
Ray likes Inuvik, likes Canada. They’re good folks, generally a little weird, but you have to be, to live this far north of anything. Of course, Ray’s in the same boat now, a freak just like the rest of them.
He never thought he’d be standing here today, competing in the third and final slo-pitch softball tournament of the summer. He was recruited by the librarians, since he spends a couple days out there each week, checking out books, reading stories to the kids. There was a dip in attendance when he first started-hell, it’s still lower than it used to be, but Jennifer wouldn’t let him quit. He likes it, though, and the kids who do show are cute and their parents are nice, or at least, not outwardly rude.
Every once and a while, Fraser’ll have time off and come with him, lurking in the back so he can watch Ray play with them. He gets this goofy sort of smile on his face, a happy one that makes Ray want to blush or turn his head away from it, but he just winks back at him and refocuses his attention on the kiddies.
Doreen, from the reference desk, likes to joke that Ray is their ace in the hole for the tournament, but Ray knows it’s Jill, the quiet girl from the high school who works weekends at the technology desk. She’s the one at bat right now; the game is tied, of course, with two outs to go in the bottom of the seventh-since slo-pitch can’t go all the way to nine innings-and Ray’s standing on second waiting for the chance to run.
Michele, who owns the Chinese place on Mackenzie, is pitching for the Inuvik Merchants-they’d scored a major upset this morning when they knocked out the Rec Center employees-and Jill is holding her stance in the batters box, waiting for the next pitch.
Ray hears the bat hit the ball more than he sees it and he takes off, tearing past the short stop and hitting the bag hard at third, everyone is cheering and Mick is waving him down to home. It’s a long ninety feet and Ray’s knees are feeling every inch of it. Twenty seven meters, Ray says the Fraser voice in his head.
Then he hears Fraser’s actual voice from the stands yelling “Slide, Ray! Slide!”
Fuckin’ A, somebody had fielded Jill’s ball and is making the throw to home. Somehow, Ray manages to tuck one foot behind his other knee as he drops down to the ground, skidding across the dirt.
“Safe!”
The librarians go fucking nuts.
Jill comes running in from second, arms waving in the air, Mick and Sue drag Ray’s sorry ass up out of the dirt and hug him tightly. Even the catcher from the other team, (Don Kasook from the pizza place) slaps Ray on the back.
“I believe you dropped this,” Fraser’s voice says from behind him, suddenly.
Ray turns to see him holding the dusty red hat, which Fraser promptly places on top of Ray’s head, in its rightful position. Ray’s face feels like it’s busting apart, so he pulls Fraser toward him, planting an ecstatic kiss on his lips before they are jostled apart.
The cheers from the crowd didn’t diminish at that, and they stay loud even though Fraser keeps an arm looped around Ray’s waist as he congratulates the rest of the team, “That was a fine hit, Jill.”
“Oh yeah, Jill, the best.”
She beams back at them, her cheeks flushing. “Nice slide, Ray.”
“Yeah, we’re all just damn lucky I didn’t break my leg doin’ it.”
“It was fine form, Ray,” Fraser counters. “Diefenbaker agrees.”
“Yeah, but my ass is still killing me.”
Fraser pitches his voice low and turns his head towards Ray’s ear, “That’s too bad.”
Ray clears his throat. “Right. Hey, did you get this one on tape?”
“Ah, no, Ray, I’m afraid I forgot to borrow a video camera.”
“That’s okay, I’m sure someone got it,” Ray says with a cheeky grin.
Fraser looks pained.
Author: shoemaster/Allison
Prompt: August 4-7 Midnight Sun Slo-Pitch Tourney, for inuvikdotcom
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 1100 words
Thanks to hermionemalfoy for the beta
Baseball is the American past time. Slo-pitch softball isn’t exactly the real thing, but Canada has weird rules for everything. As one of the few American émigrés living in Inuvik, and the only one with the very public position of Benton Fraser’s American partner, it is Ray’s responsibility to uphold his country’s honor when it comes to baseball. Or softball.
Needless to say, the pressure is on.
But see, Ray has his lucky hat.
It’s the hat he was wearing when he hit the homerun in Willison; the hat he was wearing that day the summer after Franklin’s hand, almost six years ago now.
He and Fraser were out walking Dief, the way they always did. It had to have been close to nine o’clock, but that time of year it was still mostly light out and hot as hell. So Ray was wearing his lucky hat, and Fraser was in his jeans and one of those tight t-shirts he usually wears under his flannels, but even he was sacrificing propriety for a bit of relief from the summer heat.
Ray doesn’t know what they’d been talking about or what the hell he’d been thinking, but in just one moment, when Fraser turned to look at him, smiling, Ray hooked an arm around the back of his neck and stood there for just a second, grinning back. He could feel the sweat on the back of Fraser’s neck, could see the hesitation and confusion in his eyes, but also a twinge of hope.
That was when Ray decided to go for it, right in the middle of the park with Dief snuffling around them, cars honking endlessly in the streets and with Fraser, smiling at him. He doesn’t remember being nervous it was just the thing to do at that time. He couldn’t not lean forward just a little bit, 'til the hot breath that had been hitting his cheek was on his lips and then in his mouth as Fraser’s lips parted against his in a contented sigh.
Ray’s arm tightened around Fraser’s neck, and he could feel Fraser’s hands tugging at the sides of his shirt, anchoring them. Eventually, though, they had to move, had to get out of the park and back to Ray’s air conditioned apartment to cool off and get all sweaty all over again.
So, yeah, that was six years ago, and they’d moved up here, to Inuvik, last year, after a two year stint in Norman Wells.
Ray likes Inuvik, likes Canada. They’re good folks, generally a little weird, but you have to be, to live this far north of anything. Of course, Ray’s in the same boat now, a freak just like the rest of them.
He never thought he’d be standing here today, competing in the third and final slo-pitch softball tournament of the summer. He was recruited by the librarians, since he spends a couple days out there each week, checking out books, reading stories to the kids. There was a dip in attendance when he first started-hell, it’s still lower than it used to be, but Jennifer wouldn’t let him quit. He likes it, though, and the kids who do show are cute and their parents are nice, or at least, not outwardly rude.
Every once and a while, Fraser’ll have time off and come with him, lurking in the back so he can watch Ray play with them. He gets this goofy sort of smile on his face, a happy one that makes Ray want to blush or turn his head away from it, but he just winks back at him and refocuses his attention on the kiddies.
Doreen, from the reference desk, likes to joke that Ray is their ace in the hole for the tournament, but Ray knows it’s Jill, the quiet girl from the high school who works weekends at the technology desk. She’s the one at bat right now; the game is tied, of course, with two outs to go in the bottom of the seventh-since slo-pitch can’t go all the way to nine innings-and Ray’s standing on second waiting for the chance to run.
Michele, who owns the Chinese place on Mackenzie, is pitching for the Inuvik Merchants-they’d scored a major upset this morning when they knocked out the Rec Center employees-and Jill is holding her stance in the batters box, waiting for the next pitch.
Ray hears the bat hit the ball more than he sees it and he takes off, tearing past the short stop and hitting the bag hard at third, everyone is cheering and Mick is waving him down to home. It’s a long ninety feet and Ray’s knees are feeling every inch of it. Twenty seven meters, Ray says the Fraser voice in his head.
Then he hears Fraser’s actual voice from the stands yelling “Slide, Ray! Slide!”
Fuckin’ A, somebody had fielded Jill’s ball and is making the throw to home. Somehow, Ray manages to tuck one foot behind his other knee as he drops down to the ground, skidding across the dirt.
“Safe!”
The librarians go fucking nuts.
Jill comes running in from second, arms waving in the air, Mick and Sue drag Ray’s sorry ass up out of the dirt and hug him tightly. Even the catcher from the other team, (Don Kasook from the pizza place) slaps Ray on the back.
“I believe you dropped this,” Fraser’s voice says from behind him, suddenly.
Ray turns to see him holding the dusty red hat, which Fraser promptly places on top of Ray’s head, in its rightful position. Ray’s face feels like it’s busting apart, so he pulls Fraser toward him, planting an ecstatic kiss on his lips before they are jostled apart.
The cheers from the crowd didn’t diminish at that, and they stay loud even though Fraser keeps an arm looped around Ray’s waist as he congratulates the rest of the team, “That was a fine hit, Jill.”
“Oh yeah, Jill, the best.”
She beams back at them, her cheeks flushing. “Nice slide, Ray.”
“Yeah, we’re all just damn lucky I didn’t break my leg doin’ it.”
“It was fine form, Ray,” Fraser counters. “Diefenbaker agrees.”
“Yeah, but my ass is still killing me.”
Fraser pitches his voice low and turns his head towards Ray’s ear, “That’s too bad.”
Ray clears his throat. “Right. Hey, did you get this one on tape?”
“Ah, no, Ray, I’m afraid I forgot to borrow a video camera.”
“That’s okay, I’m sure someone got it,” Ray says with a cheeky grin.
Fraser looks pained.