ds_flashfiction

doll-revolution.livejournal.com posting in

that's what i am. i bought an 'lj' shirt. :::nods::: it's true. and that has nothing to do with this post, i just thought you should know what kind of person i really am.

so. with a tip of the hat to

cesperanza from whom i blatantly stole several elements of this story, i present

Ray stepped inside the Consulate and frowned, wondering where everyone was. There was a thick electrical cord snaking across the hallway and up the stairs, and he could hear faint sounds, something like people talking and some vague metal-on-metal noises.

Ray shrugged, and started toward the stairs. He was almost there when Fraser popped out of a nearby doorway, his hair in wild disarray and sweat –actual drops of sweat!- on his forehead.

Fraser took two quick steps over to Ray, fisted his hands in Ray’s t-shirt, and pulled him close. “Oh, Ray, thank God!”

Ray’s eyes widened. He tried reaching for the weapon in his shoulder holster, but Fraser’s grip on his shirt was so tight he couldn’t move his hands in the right way.

“Frase!” Ray grabbed Fraser’s wrists and tugged futilely. “You got to loosen your grip, there, buddy. I can’t get to my gun.”

Fraser’s expression slid from desperate to hopeful. “You’re going to shoot her for me? Oh, that would be lovely!” He looked down and flushed as he realized how tight his grasp on Ray’s shirt actually was. He immediately let go and took a step back. “I do apologize, Ray. I’ll get that,” he patted Ray’s shirt absently, “pressed or, or something.”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “’Pressed or something?’ Frase, what the hell is wrong? Who do you want me to shoot?” He leaned in to whisper, “Is it Victoria?”

Fraser shook his head. “Victoria would be a relief. Victoria, to some extent, I understand. This is much worse.” He paused to shudder. “This is Esperanza Curtis.”

“Esperanza Curtis? The independent filmmaker? Chicago’s answer to Gus Van Sant? She's what you consider worse than Victoria?”

“Oh, Ray, you have no idea! She’s relentless! I’m somewhat unclear as to why she’s filming in the Consulate, but from the moment she saw me, she’s insisted I be in her film, no matter how vehemently I object!”

“Oh, that’s hard to believe,” Ray murmured, his lips twitching.

Fraser glared at him. “I am so happy my troubles are a source of amusement for you, Ray. Perhaps, if you’d like, I can accidentally impale myself on a letter opener. I understand that can be counted on for a chuckle or two.”

“Oh, Frase, come on!” Ray said, rolling his eyes. “Most people’d love to be in a movie! You’re making it sound like she shot Dief or something.”

“Well, I am not most people, Ray, and I have no desire to appear in her film.” Fraser sighed. “I had considered strangling her with my lanyard and burying her out behind the Consulate, but, well, I fear it would reflect poorly on Canada.”

“Whoa! Buddy!” Ray put a hand on Fraser’s shoulder. “She’s really getting to you, huh?”

“Well, yes, she is, Ray. She just will not listen to my objections. And I must admit, I’m beginning to find her constant stream of innuendo somewhat offensive as well.”

Ray narrowed his eyes. “Is she harassing you, Frase? ‘Cause that ain’t right, we got laws about that sort of thing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘harass’ per se, but—“

Just then Esperanza herself came striding down the stairs, her trademark Japanese cheerleader outfit swirling around her. “Ben! You still dressed? I thought I told you to be naked and covered in chocolate by now.” She ran her gaze over Ray, lingering on his crotch. “Who’s sex on a stick there?”

Ray’s eyes were wide. “That ain’t innuendo, Frase. That’s a fucking force of nature.”

“Well, you see what I’m up against, then.” Both men slowly turned to look at Esperanza, who was holding a French maid’s outfit up against a blushing Turnbull and frowning.

Ray slapped a hand on Fraser’s back. “Frase, I got to be going. Have to see a man about a dog.” He turned to leave, but stopped as Fraser hissed “Coward!” at his retreating back.

Ray turned back to Fraser with a gleam in his eye. His voice pitched to carry, he said, “So I’ll see you back at the apartment, right? Don’t forget – it’s your night to get pizza.” He took two steps closer, slid his hands deep into Fraser’s hair and pulled, bringing their mouths together for the deepest, wettest, nastiest, most carnal kiss Fraser had ever experienced.

An eon later, Fraser gasped desperately for air as Ray finally broke the kiss. Ray grinned wildly. “Something to remember me by,” he said, winking. Fraser’s knees gave way and he slid down the wall, watching wide-eyed as Ray left.

After a moment, he noticed that Esperanza had crouched down next to him. “So you’re gay, huh?” she said, sounding not disappointed at all. “That’s cool. I have this idea for the two of you, some Crisco, and a feather boa. . .”

Fraser tuned out her voice and began banging his head softly against the wall. He was pretty sure Lieutenant Welsh would understand why he had to kill Ray. And if Ms. Kowalski was the ASA for the case, why, he might not get any jail time at all. . .

“—and then that’s where we’ll use the midget clowns!” Esperanza finished triumphantly. “So? What do you think?”

Fraser began banging his head against the wall again.

874 words.