ds_flashfiction | Short and Sweet

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I think this is done.

Home

Damn. He'd been so close, too.

"Constable Fraser? Did you hear me? I asked you what was in the bag."

He turned slowly, to give himself time to think. "This bag, sir?" he asked somewhat disingenuously.

"Yes, Fraser," the Inspector replied, not at all patiently. "That bag. The large brown paper grocery bag which you are holding in your left hand."

"Ah," Ben said. "Of course. It's –" He unfolded the top and peered in, hoping for inspiration. "Old clothing, sir," he said finally.

"Really?" she asked, striding over to take a look for herself. Ben prayed she wouldn't delve beyond the top layer of flannel shirts to find the neatly folded boxers and socks beneath.

"Hmmm." Her suspicious eyes slid from the soft blue-gray plaid to him. "May one ask why you saw fit to carry old clothing around with you today?"

"I find that I don't wear these items very often," that's a lie! his conscience screamed, "so I'm taking them to a place where I hope they might get some use."

"Oh," she said, the wind clearly out of her sails. "Well. Good for you. Carry on, then."

"Thank you, sir," he said, and escaped out the front door into freedom. Ray's car was just pulling up to the curb, and Ben had to force himself to walk at a normal pace until he reached it, opened the door, and got in.

"Hey, Fraser," Ray said, "what's in the bag?"

"Clothes," he said, before his throat closed entirely. He offered the bag for inspection. Ray peeked in and then looked up at him.

"This is that shirt I borrowed that time," he said, somewhat gruffly.

"Is it?" Ben asked, knowing damned well it was; knowing it was a miracle the fabric hadn't worn out by now, as many times as he'd slipped it on, late at night.

"So you really want to –"

"If your offer's still open."

He could feel Ray's gaze on him. "There's more than just the one shirt here," Ray said, folding the top over and tossing the bag into the back seat.

Oh, dear lord. "I'm terribly sorry if I was being presumptuous," he began.

Ray cut him off with a sharp flick of his hand. "Fuck that. This is fine. Great, even. I just –" He cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, clear out a whole drawer for you, how's that?"

Ben closed his eyes for a moment. "That would be ... fine," he said, frustrated by the inadequacy of his current vocabulary. "Thank you."

"Okay then," Ray said, and put the car into gear. "You want dinner?"

Ben surprised both of them by laughing. "I don't think I could eat right now," he said.

"Okay," Ray said again, "so ... home?"

"Yes, please," Ben said, and it felt like the first honest thing he'd said all night. He closed his eyes again and felt the movement of the car away from the curb. Seconds later, he felt the warmth of Ray's hand on his, and he twisted his fingers to twine with Ray's, until the first stoplight.

Comments of the critical variety are encouraged.

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