![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
foxyfursTitle: A Canadian Walks Into a Bar
Rating: NC17 (though not this part)
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Disclaimer: I haven't written in ages. This is for fun, and exercise, and I probably couldn't make money off it if I tried.
Author's Note: Okay, so. This is my first fic in Quite Some Time. (No, comment fic is not the same.) This was spur-of-the-moment, is unbeta'd, and currently isn't even finished completely, as it's eight hours past my bedtime and omg I need to sleep nao. I beg you to bear with me while I figure out this whole 'Posting-Long-Things' thing.
Fraser started making low, moaning noises, head drooping so that he was staring at the tips of his shoes. “This is horrible. Oh, this is so very bad. I can’t believe it!” Ray hitched him up higher, finally pushing him to the wall and leaning him against it. Fraser didn’t seem to notice, eyes – dilated and very dark, yep, dear God – staring unseeingly.
Right. First, damage control. Ray turned around and grinned ruefully. “Appreciate the help with this, Tony. That his hat?”
“Yeah. It fell off before I found him, I think. He was standing on the sidewalk, staring straight up at the stars, just kind of swaying in place.” Tony was outright chuckling now. “I’ve heard stories about Janine’s tea, but I never thought I’d see her get any of the local cops to drink it!” Ray gritted his teeth and forced a smile, tucking the hat under his arm protectively.
Yeah, cause that’s Fraser. Polite, bending-over-backwards Fraser, who’s so anxious to try hard and listen to and do right by his new neighbors. Ray gets that. He felt that way about the work he’d be doing on the force when he left the Academy. He remembered Stella talking that way during law school, where she wanted to do right. They started out meaning to do all these things. But Fraser… Fraser still wanted that, still kept trying to do that, fifteen years after starting. Ray was in abso-fuckin-awe of Fraser most days.
Can’t fuck it up now, he thought, and reached into his wallet. “That’s the thing about those stories, sometimes they’re true. And sometimes…” he trailed off, pulled out some of that prettily-colored Canadian money and held it out. “Look, I left with my tab still open in there. Would you mind settling it for me? I gotta get Frase back home.”
Tony – did the man ever quit smiling? – smirked. “You owe Dave anything out of there, too?”
Ray snorted. “Yeah, he wishes. Man throws darts like my Grandma. Tell him I said he should take up golfing.” He grinned and watched with cynical eyes as Tony pocketed the larger bill and strolled back inside.
Christ. This was not supposed to be how tonight was gonna go. Two weeks’ vacation, help Fraser move into his new home, make sure his partner – his best partner, his -- was in good hands with his new posting, maybe use some of his instinct to suss out things for him right off the bat while Fraser made nice with the locals and did, like, paperwork or whatever. Not that he thought Fraser needed his help. The RCMP actually had six Mounties in this area and Fraser had said they “seemed quite competent, and we’ve already had a delightful conversation about trout fishing—“
So no, Fraser didn’t really need him. But Ray was having a hard time letting go, and had to take it in stages or something. Just like with Stella. He’d gone from loving her “forever,” to “most of the time,” to “occasionally” and finally to “only when she tilts her head just right and she looks like she did at eighteen.” It took years to let Stella go. Sometimes he’s still not sure he has.
And Fraser was gonna be the same way. Years of working together, solving the most weird-as-shit, out-there cases he’d ever heard of, connecting so right and so well that you know what your partner is thinking, feeling, gonna say before he says it, to nada. Nothing. No duet, no partner, no Fraser. It was the worst kind of cold turkey, and Ray just … couldn’t do it. He was gonna need, like, stages of separation before he was ready to handle things on his own again. To be by himself again. To be alone. Again.
So tonight was supposed to be a little trial run. Go have a few beers while Fraser follows up on a case, meet someone over a few drinks, try out some of the Kowalski charm and see if the zing is still there when he winks at somebody. Not that he’d do anything here, Christ, he was crashing on Fraser’s couch. He couldn’t just walk in with a girl and say “Hey, buddy, I’mma borrow your bed for a little bit, okay?” That wasn’t cool. So it was just a dip-your-toes kind of night: a little light flirting, some of that, whatchacallit, banter. Ray’d been looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.
Eh, just wasn’t to be tonight. Ray glanced over his shoulder to see that Fraser’s knees had finally given way and he was sitting on the grass, his eyes on the bricks of the wall. As Ray watched, astonished, he reached out a finger and oh so gently touched one of the bricks, tracing a groove with his finger, before emitting what sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh.
“Frase? Whatcha got there, buddy?” Ray crouched close, swallowing roughly at yet another blast of Fraser’s full-wattage smile. Whoa. Christ, him doing that should be illegal.
“Roads.” Fraser’s voice was low, throaty. “All these tiny roads, Ray. Look, see? It doesn’t matter where they start, where you find yourself on them, they’ll always end up at the same place.” His finger trailed the grooves running parallel along the brickwork until they reached the mortar, teeing sideways along the edge. “Like water from the storms. The rain would run down the wall, would just follow the path of least resistance, Ray. But it wouldn’t matter, in the end, because they all end up down in the drain pipe.” His voice softened, cadence smooth and slow and oh so very solemn. “Poor little droplet.”
“Uh. That’s just gravity, Frase. I don’t think the rain really gets to choose where it goes.”
Fraser whirled so quickly toward him Ray nearly fell over. “Exactly. Exactly, Ray! There’s no chance. There’s no choice. The rain falls where it will, whether the roof tops or the tree canopy or the roof of your GTO. There’s no fighting gravity. You can’t escape it, you can’t outlast it, you’re doomed before you even begin the descent, Ray—“ Fraser’s eyes looked like they were lit from within, a bright intensity that was painful to see, that actually hurt to watch, looked like it was fucking burning him up from the inside out. Ray saw so much resignation, so much despair in that wild gaze. The sight clenched something deep in Ray’s stomach, tightening his chest and stopping his breath for a split second, and …
He couldn’t help himself.
Sliding one hand upward and along Fraser’s cheek, Ray cupped his fingers around his ear and gripped his skull. His other hand tugged at Fraser’s shoulder, gently drawing him forward until Fraser’s forehead touched his own. Fraser couldn’t focus that closely anymore, so he shut his eyes, and Ray let him. Let him pant harshly against his own cheek while he murmured, “No, see, that’s not how it happens. Shh, think about the rain, Fraser. Way up there, bee boppin’ along in the clouds, teeny tiny little bits of mist and cold and air. Yeah, you might fall, but first you gotta bump and knock around against everyone else up there with you. Little bits and pieces of yourselves, getting traded around and piled up and added on to.” Ray kept his own voice soft, earnest. He wanted Fraser to get this. He had to understand.
“Pretty soon you’re big. You’ve got little pieces of everyone stuck all over you, and you’re not just heavy, you have weight and little pieces of you are on everyone else, too. You’re up there, all of you, mixed around and made up of each other, and together, you know? And then you start to fall…” Fraser twitched slightly and Ray stroked his fingers along the shell of his ear, soothing. “Frase, can you imagine that? Imagine that, hanging there in the air, no metal plane or straps or cage around you, it’s just you, just you and all your buddies and the wind blowing you around. And the ground is so far away, it’ll take forever to land, and it’s all so beautiful, stretched out beneath you and green and blue and waiting.”
Ray’s toes tingled, his legs falling asleep where he crouched, he’s too old for this, but Fraser’s breathing in time with him now, pressed more firmly against Ray’s forehead and one hand wrapped loose around Ray’s wrist. “I can just imagine how that feels, Frase. With the wind at my back and the sun on my face and I’m made up of shimmering light and water, pieces of everyone I ever bumped into up high. Wondering where I’m going to land, what I’m going to see, and you’re right that it doesn’t matter, really, because – and this, this is the important bit, Frase, you listening? – because I’ve done all this before.”
Fraser’s eyes open and stare. Ray thinks maybe his breathing stopped a bit, but he can still feel warmth along his cheek, ghosting across his lips as he talks. He doesn’t really know where he’s taking this, but it feels right, so Ray just let the words pour out.
“Thousands and thousands of times, I’ve fallen, Frase. Sometimes on concrete, sometimes on grass. Roof tops and rivers and oceans. And every time, the sun warms me and the wind blows again and bits and pieces of me and of you float up and go back dancing in the clouds. And every time – every time, Fraser, you’re listening? – a little more of me gets spread around, and I pick up a little more of you. So the falling doesn’t bother me. Because we all fall together.” Ray took a deep breath and flexed his fingers in Fraser’s hair. His hands were shaking, did Fraser understand? “We’re all falling, all the time, it’s never just one drop, you hear?”
“I – I hear you, Ray.” Fraser’s voice was still low, but no longer throaty, he sounded positively hoarse. “Not alone.”
Ray went boneless in relief. “That’s it, buddy, that’s it exactly. Not alone.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and drew back a bit to look at Fraser. Ray felt stretched out, jittery, like he’d gone three weeks without a cigarette or like right before he asked Stella to the prom. He couldn’t feel his feet at all. Time to reel it back in, Stanley. He quirked his lips up in a half-smile and said “Congratulations, Benton, buddy, you’re gonna have leftover Kowalski on you for the rest of your life! Ain’t no stain remover strong enough to get rid of me.”
Fraser slowly tilted his head to the side, eyes completely focused and clear. “I think … I think I’m okay with that, Ray.” And he touched his mouth to Ray’s.
Oh. Oh shit.
Rating: NC17 (though not this part)
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Disclaimer: I haven't written in ages. This is for fun, and exercise, and I probably couldn't make money off it if I tried.
Author's Note: Okay, so. This is my first fic in Quite Some Time. (No, comment fic is not the same.) This was spur-of-the-moment, is unbeta'd, and currently isn't even finished completely, as it's eight hours past my bedtime and omg I need to sleep nao. I beg you to bear with me while I figure out this whole 'Posting-Long-Things' thing.
Fraser started making low, moaning noises, head drooping so that he was staring at the tips of his shoes. “This is horrible. Oh, this is so very bad. I can’t believe it!” Ray hitched him up higher, finally pushing him to the wall and leaning him against it. Fraser didn’t seem to notice, eyes – dilated and very dark, yep, dear God – staring unseeingly.
Right. First, damage control. Ray turned around and grinned ruefully. “Appreciate the help with this, Tony. That his hat?”
“Yeah. It fell off before I found him, I think. He was standing on the sidewalk, staring straight up at the stars, just kind of swaying in place.” Tony was outright chuckling now. “I’ve heard stories about Janine’s tea, but I never thought I’d see her get any of the local cops to drink it!” Ray gritted his teeth and forced a smile, tucking the hat under his arm protectively.
Yeah, cause that’s Fraser. Polite, bending-over-backwards Fraser, who’s so anxious to try hard and listen to and do right by his new neighbors. Ray gets that. He felt that way about the work he’d be doing on the force when he left the Academy. He remembered Stella talking that way during law school, where she wanted to do right. They started out meaning to do all these things. But Fraser… Fraser still wanted that, still kept trying to do that, fifteen years after starting. Ray was in abso-fuckin-awe of Fraser most days.
Can’t fuck it up now, he thought, and reached into his wallet. “That’s the thing about those stories, sometimes they’re true. And sometimes…” he trailed off, pulled out some of that prettily-colored Canadian money and held it out. “Look, I left with my tab still open in there. Would you mind settling it for me? I gotta get Frase back home.”
Tony – did the man ever quit smiling? – smirked. “You owe Dave anything out of there, too?”
Ray snorted. “Yeah, he wishes. Man throws darts like my Grandma. Tell him I said he should take up golfing.” He grinned and watched with cynical eyes as Tony pocketed the larger bill and strolled back inside.
Christ. This was not supposed to be how tonight was gonna go. Two weeks’ vacation, help Fraser move into his new home, make sure his partner – his best partner, his -- was in good hands with his new posting, maybe use some of his instinct to suss out things for him right off the bat while Fraser made nice with the locals and did, like, paperwork or whatever. Not that he thought Fraser needed his help. The RCMP actually had six Mounties in this area and Fraser had said they “seemed quite competent, and we’ve already had a delightful conversation about trout fishing—“
So no, Fraser didn’t really need him. But Ray was having a hard time letting go, and had to take it in stages or something. Just like with Stella. He’d gone from loving her “forever,” to “most of the time,” to “occasionally” and finally to “only when she tilts her head just right and she looks like she did at eighteen.” It took years to let Stella go. Sometimes he’s still not sure he has.
And Fraser was gonna be the same way. Years of working together, solving the most weird-as-shit, out-there cases he’d ever heard of, connecting so right and so well that you know what your partner is thinking, feeling, gonna say before he says it, to nada. Nothing. No duet, no partner, no Fraser. It was the worst kind of cold turkey, and Ray just … couldn’t do it. He was gonna need, like, stages of separation before he was ready to handle things on his own again. To be by himself again. To be alone. Again.
So tonight was supposed to be a little trial run. Go have a few beers while Fraser follows up on a case, meet someone over a few drinks, try out some of the Kowalski charm and see if the zing is still there when he winks at somebody. Not that he’d do anything here, Christ, he was crashing on Fraser’s couch. He couldn’t just walk in with a girl and say “Hey, buddy, I’mma borrow your bed for a little bit, okay?” That wasn’t cool. So it was just a dip-your-toes kind of night: a little light flirting, some of that, whatchacallit, banter. Ray’d been looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.
Eh, just wasn’t to be tonight. Ray glanced over his shoulder to see that Fraser’s knees had finally given way and he was sitting on the grass, his eyes on the bricks of the wall. As Ray watched, astonished, he reached out a finger and oh so gently touched one of the bricks, tracing a groove with his finger, before emitting what sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh.
“Frase? Whatcha got there, buddy?” Ray crouched close, swallowing roughly at yet another blast of Fraser’s full-wattage smile. Whoa. Christ, him doing that should be illegal.
“Roads.” Fraser’s voice was low, throaty. “All these tiny roads, Ray. Look, see? It doesn’t matter where they start, where you find yourself on them, they’ll always end up at the same place.” His finger trailed the grooves running parallel along the brickwork until they reached the mortar, teeing sideways along the edge. “Like water from the storms. The rain would run down the wall, would just follow the path of least resistance, Ray. But it wouldn’t matter, in the end, because they all end up down in the drain pipe.” His voice softened, cadence smooth and slow and oh so very solemn. “Poor little droplet.”
“Uh. That’s just gravity, Frase. I don’t think the rain really gets to choose where it goes.”
Fraser whirled so quickly toward him Ray nearly fell over. “Exactly. Exactly, Ray! There’s no chance. There’s no choice. The rain falls where it will, whether the roof tops or the tree canopy or the roof of your GTO. There’s no fighting gravity. You can’t escape it, you can’t outlast it, you’re doomed before you even begin the descent, Ray—“ Fraser’s eyes looked like they were lit from within, a bright intensity that was painful to see, that actually hurt to watch, looked like it was fucking burning him up from the inside out. Ray saw so much resignation, so much despair in that wild gaze. The sight clenched something deep in Ray’s stomach, tightening his chest and stopping his breath for a split second, and …
He couldn’t help himself.
Sliding one hand upward and along Fraser’s cheek, Ray cupped his fingers around his ear and gripped his skull. His other hand tugged at Fraser’s shoulder, gently drawing him forward until Fraser’s forehead touched his own. Fraser couldn’t focus that closely anymore, so he shut his eyes, and Ray let him. Let him pant harshly against his own cheek while he murmured, “No, see, that’s not how it happens. Shh, think about the rain, Fraser. Way up there, bee boppin’ along in the clouds, teeny tiny little bits of mist and cold and air. Yeah, you might fall, but first you gotta bump and knock around against everyone else up there with you. Little bits and pieces of yourselves, getting traded around and piled up and added on to.” Ray kept his own voice soft, earnest. He wanted Fraser to get this. He had to understand.
“Pretty soon you’re big. You’ve got little pieces of everyone stuck all over you, and you’re not just heavy, you have weight and little pieces of you are on everyone else, too. You’re up there, all of you, mixed around and made up of each other, and together, you know? And then you start to fall…” Fraser twitched slightly and Ray stroked his fingers along the shell of his ear, soothing. “Frase, can you imagine that? Imagine that, hanging there in the air, no metal plane or straps or cage around you, it’s just you, just you and all your buddies and the wind blowing you around. And the ground is so far away, it’ll take forever to land, and it’s all so beautiful, stretched out beneath you and green and blue and waiting.”
Ray’s toes tingled, his legs falling asleep where he crouched, he’s too old for this, but Fraser’s breathing in time with him now, pressed more firmly against Ray’s forehead and one hand wrapped loose around Ray’s wrist. “I can just imagine how that feels, Frase. With the wind at my back and the sun on my face and I’m made up of shimmering light and water, pieces of everyone I ever bumped into up high. Wondering where I’m going to land, what I’m going to see, and you’re right that it doesn’t matter, really, because – and this, this is the important bit, Frase, you listening? – because I’ve done all this before.”
Fraser’s eyes open and stare. Ray thinks maybe his breathing stopped a bit, but he can still feel warmth along his cheek, ghosting across his lips as he talks. He doesn’t really know where he’s taking this, but it feels right, so Ray just let the words pour out.
“Thousands and thousands of times, I’ve fallen, Frase. Sometimes on concrete, sometimes on grass. Roof tops and rivers and oceans. And every time, the sun warms me and the wind blows again and bits and pieces of me and of you float up and go back dancing in the clouds. And every time – every time, Fraser, you’re listening? – a little more of me gets spread around, and I pick up a little more of you. So the falling doesn’t bother me. Because we all fall together.” Ray took a deep breath and flexed his fingers in Fraser’s hair. His hands were shaking, did Fraser understand? “We’re all falling, all the time, it’s never just one drop, you hear?”
“I – I hear you, Ray.” Fraser’s voice was still low, but no longer throaty, he sounded positively hoarse. “Not alone.”
Ray went boneless in relief. “That’s it, buddy, that’s it exactly. Not alone.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and drew back a bit to look at Fraser. Ray felt stretched out, jittery, like he’d gone three weeks without a cigarette or like right before he asked Stella to the prom. He couldn’t feel his feet at all. Time to reel it back in, Stanley. He quirked his lips up in a half-smile and said “Congratulations, Benton, buddy, you’re gonna have leftover Kowalski on you for the rest of your life! Ain’t no stain remover strong enough to get rid of me.”
Fraser slowly tilted his head to the side, eyes completely focused and clear. “I think … I think I’m okay with that, Ray.” And he touched his mouth to Ray’s.
Oh. Oh shit.
