Five Minutes After the First One
Jan. 25th, 2004 08:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
chesamus.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfiction902 words. Obviously not based on canon ::grin::
“Boy, good thing Sandor got here when he did, huh? I was starving.” He was bustling about in the kitchen opening cabinets in a random fashion. I’d never seen Ray bustle before.
“Ray.”
“You wanna beer? Course not, you don’t drink beer - I knew that. I knew that--” His blonde head was turning in the same random fashion. It was almost dizzying to watch.
“Ray.”
“Water maybe, or milk, though I don’t see how anybody can eat pizza with milk. I’ll get you some milk--” He was ignoring me. Charmingly, of course, but still.
“Ray.”
“--or maybe soda. Yeah, you need to live it up a little, Frase, get out that rut. I’m just saying--”
“Ray.”
“--you’re in a rut. Not that it’s a bad thing, being in a rut, but you gotta let go a little, Fraser, live a little. So I’m getting you a soda...”
“Ray!”
“What?!”
“You kissed me, Ray.”
I never examined too closely the American ritual of “Guys Night Out,” although I had participated more than once with Ray Vecchio and the detectives of the 27th. It usually involved a sporting event or a card game, semi-vulgar innuendo, and the consumption of food and alcohol (which, in my opinion, went a long way toward explaining the difference in life expectancy between genders).
Ray Kowalski’s behavior was dissimilar, although not entirely divergent. The nature of his assignment as Ray Vecchio precluded an active social life. A shared pizza or takeout, usually eaten in front of a game, was more in keeping with his style.
Like me, Ray didn’t seem to need the trappings of “Guys Night Out” as an excuse to socialize with a male companion. He was comfortable with himself, and I thought he was comfortable with me. Until five minutes ago when he kissed me.
“Frase--” He came to a complete stop, leaning against the bar.
“You kissed me, Ray.”
He vanished behind the counter with a thud. I had a sudden thought that he’d fainted, but the thudding noise continued. I quickly made my way around the bar. Ray was sitting with his back to the counter, banging his head against the laminate surface. Every bang had a muttered accompaniment.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid...”
“Ray.” I knelt next to him. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Of all the stupid, fucking stupid things--”
“Ray.”
“--you’ve ever done in your stupid fucking life--”
“Ray.”
“--you had to do the one thing. The. One. Stupid. Fucking. Thing. you promised yourself you wouldn’t do--”
“Ray.” He was going to hurt himself eventually, and I should have stopped him, but I - well there was really no explanation except my own curiosity. It was inexcusable behavior, really.
“--all that work fucked up, cuz you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself--” No, I had to stop this. there were safer ways to get to the heart of this.
“Ray!”
“What?!”
“I didn’t say I objected, Ray.” The blond head turned in slow motion to face me. Ray squinted slightly, blinked.
“Did you?”
Was it possible to get a concussion from repeated self-inflicted blows against cabinetry? “Ray, I just told you I didn’t say--”
“No, no no. I know you didn’t say it, but did you?” Oh this was distressing. I didn’t want to explain this in an emergency room, but it was obvious Ray had sustained some type of injury.
“Ray, I believe we should get you to a doctor--”
“Fraser.”
“--or the urgent care clinic which should be open--”
“Fraser.”
“--of course, first I need to get you off this cold floor--”
“Fraser.”
“--or perhaps I should just call 911. I don’t want to risk exacerbating any neck injury you may have sustained in your fall--”
“Frase.”
“--and since I didn’t actually see the fall, it is possible you blacked out, or perhaps the blackout caused the fall--”
“Benton!”
“What?!” Ray was staring at me as though I was concussed instead.
“Damn, Fraser, get a grip! I don’t have a concussion, I didn’t black out, I didn’t hurt my neck, or my back, okay? I just meant - I mean did you object to me, you know, kissing you?”
“Oh. O-o-h-h, I see. forgive me, Ray. I was slightly confused by you, well, by everything.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been confused for years.”
“Years, Ray?” Years? I slipped to the floor next to him. He tapped my right foot lightly with his left.
“Yeah. Started somewhere between the hug and riding the fireball into the lake they call Michigan.” His smile was gentle, as though he took those memories out often and found them happy.
“You hid it well - I had no idea.”
“I’m an undercover cop, Fraser, and I keep all sorts of things hidden. I’m the best actor you’ll ever know.” He was blushing slightly. “So did you?”
“No. No I didn’t.” Well, that was mostly true. I did object to the duration, which I personally felt was much too short.
“So I can do it again?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” He got to his feet with his usual grace, then held out his hand to me. “So what’s it going to be, Frase? Milk or soda?”
I let him pull me to my feet. “Soda, Ray. I have it on good authority that I need to live a little.”
If the second kiss was any indication, I was going to live more than a little, and die an exceptionally happy man.
“Boy, good thing Sandor got here when he did, huh? I was starving.” He was bustling about in the kitchen opening cabinets in a random fashion. I’d never seen Ray bustle before.
“Ray.”
“You wanna beer? Course not, you don’t drink beer - I knew that. I knew that--” His blonde head was turning in the same random fashion. It was almost dizzying to watch.
“Ray.”
“Water maybe, or milk, though I don’t see how anybody can eat pizza with milk. I’ll get you some milk--” He was ignoring me. Charmingly, of course, but still.
“Ray.”
“--or maybe soda. Yeah, you need to live it up a little, Frase, get out that rut. I’m just saying--”
“Ray.”
“--you’re in a rut. Not that it’s a bad thing, being in a rut, but you gotta let go a little, Fraser, live a little. So I’m getting you a soda...”
“Ray!”
“What?!”
“You kissed me, Ray.”
I never examined too closely the American ritual of “Guys Night Out,” although I had participated more than once with Ray Vecchio and the detectives of the 27th. It usually involved a sporting event or a card game, semi-vulgar innuendo, and the consumption of food and alcohol (which, in my opinion, went a long way toward explaining the difference in life expectancy between genders).
Ray Kowalski’s behavior was dissimilar, although not entirely divergent. The nature of his assignment as Ray Vecchio precluded an active social life. A shared pizza or takeout, usually eaten in front of a game, was more in keeping with his style.
Like me, Ray didn’t seem to need the trappings of “Guys Night Out” as an excuse to socialize with a male companion. He was comfortable with himself, and I thought he was comfortable with me. Until five minutes ago when he kissed me.
“Frase--” He came to a complete stop, leaning against the bar.
“You kissed me, Ray.”
He vanished behind the counter with a thud. I had a sudden thought that he’d fainted, but the thudding noise continued. I quickly made my way around the bar. Ray was sitting with his back to the counter, banging his head against the laminate surface. Every bang had a muttered accompaniment.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid...”
“Ray.” I knelt next to him. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Of all the stupid, fucking stupid things--”
“Ray.”
“--you’ve ever done in your stupid fucking life--”
“Ray.”
“--you had to do the one thing. The. One. Stupid. Fucking. Thing. you promised yourself you wouldn’t do--”
“Ray.” He was going to hurt himself eventually, and I should have stopped him, but I - well there was really no explanation except my own curiosity. It was inexcusable behavior, really.
“--all that work fucked up, cuz you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself--” No, I had to stop this. there were safer ways to get to the heart of this.
“Ray!”
“What?!”
“I didn’t say I objected, Ray.” The blond head turned in slow motion to face me. Ray squinted slightly, blinked.
“Did you?”
Was it possible to get a concussion from repeated self-inflicted blows against cabinetry? “Ray, I just told you I didn’t say--”
“No, no no. I know you didn’t say it, but did you?” Oh this was distressing. I didn’t want to explain this in an emergency room, but it was obvious Ray had sustained some type of injury.
“Ray, I believe we should get you to a doctor--”
“Fraser.”
“--or the urgent care clinic which should be open--”
“Fraser.”
“--of course, first I need to get you off this cold floor--”
“Fraser.”
“--or perhaps I should just call 911. I don’t want to risk exacerbating any neck injury you may have sustained in your fall--”
“Frase.”
“--and since I didn’t actually see the fall, it is possible you blacked out, or perhaps the blackout caused the fall--”
“Benton!”
“What?!” Ray was staring at me as though I was concussed instead.
“Damn, Fraser, get a grip! I don’t have a concussion, I didn’t black out, I didn’t hurt my neck, or my back, okay? I just meant - I mean did you object to me, you know, kissing you?”
“Oh. O-o-h-h, I see. forgive me, Ray. I was slightly confused by you, well, by everything.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been confused for years.”
“Years, Ray?” Years? I slipped to the floor next to him. He tapped my right foot lightly with his left.
“Yeah. Started somewhere between the hug and riding the fireball into the lake they call Michigan.” His smile was gentle, as though he took those memories out often and found them happy.
“You hid it well - I had no idea.”
“I’m an undercover cop, Fraser, and I keep all sorts of things hidden. I’m the best actor you’ll ever know.” He was blushing slightly. “So did you?”
“No. No I didn’t.” Well, that was mostly true. I did object to the duration, which I personally felt was much too short.
“So I can do it again?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” He got to his feet with his usual grace, then held out his hand to me. “So what’s it going to be, Frase? Milk or soda?”
I let him pull me to my feet. “Soda, Ray. I have it on good authority that I need to live a little.”
If the second kiss was any indication, I was going to live more than a little, and die an exceptionally happy man.
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Date: 2004-01-26 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-26 03:36 am (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2004-01-26 02:57 pm (UTC)Well, darn.
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Date: 2004-01-26 04:11 pm (UTC)