ds_flashfiction | Darkest Before Dawn Challenge

A short contribution to the DBD challenge. I'll be posting a longer, plottier one tomorrow, but this popped into my head and wouldn't let go.

As always, thanks to

brooklinegirl for the super fast beta.

Pairing - F/K
Word Count - 656
Spoilers - none, post CoTW fic
Rating - Nothing explicit, slashy intent

Stay

The sound of snow falling from the roof of the cabin wakes Fraser from his sleep, and he rolls over in bed, throwing one arm over his eyes. It’s early yet – the sky is glowing with a yellow pre-dawn light, and when he fumbles with the small alarm clock on his bedside table he sees it’s not yet 5 AM.

But he's not the only one up. He can hear footsteps in the main room of the cabin, and he kicks back the blanket with his feet and reaches down to pull on a pair of sweatpants before getting out of bed.

Diefenbaker is snoring quietly, asleep in his corner in the kitchen. As Fraser passes him, he makes a soft whuffing sound and shakes his head before settling back down into his paws.

Fraser lights the small candle next to the sink in the kitchen, and reaches for a glass in the overhead cupboard. He’d done the dishes after dinner and put everything away, so there the glasses stand; two glasses next to two mugs and two plates. There are two bowls in the other cabinet with his cooking supplies, and the small drawer held all of the utensils they had used on their adventure.

The water he pours into his glass is cold, and hurts behind his eyes when he swallows it too quickly. Fraser puts the glass in the sink and presses his fingers against his forehead, waiting until the sharp pain passes before turning around.

The plane ticket is in the middle of the table, but Fraser pretends he doesn’t see it.

Ray’s back is to Fraser, as he stares silently out the small living room window into the night. His arms are folded across his chest, and Fraser can see the tense lines of his back from his side of the room. The blankets on the couch are folded and stacked up neatly – far too neatly for Ray to have done it after sleeping.

Fraser clears his throat. “You should really get some rest,” he says.

When Ray nods his head the movement is jerky, and his voice is rough when he says, “I know.”

The floor is cold under his bare feet, but Fraser barely notices as he walks over to the kitchen table, his eyes drawn down again to the ticket. The edges are smooth and worn when his fingers trace over it, and the face has soft creases and scar lines, as if it had been folded up and taken apart one too many times.

When Fraser gets close enough, he can see Ray’s skin is covered in gooseflesh. There’s a draft coming in from the window, and Fraser makes a mental note to head into town as soon as he can and get some more insulation for the cabin. He knows he won't be able to survive in a place that’s too cold, letting all the heat out faster than it’s being made inside.

The snow is falling steadily now, and the sky is lighter than when he first got up. He wonders how it looked for Ray, standing in front of the window all night long, looking out into the night. He wonders what Ray was thinking of as he stood there.

Fraser is standing close enough to feel the heat from Ray’s body against his chest, and when he reaches out and lays a hand palm down on the wall next to the window, Ray shivers.

“I don’t-“ Ray’s voice sticks and he clears his throat. “I don’t think I can go back, Frase.”

Fraser closes his eyes and drops his head so his lips hover just over Ray’s shoulder. And when he reaches out his other hand and lays it against the wall on the other side of Ray’s body, Ray leans back against his chest.

“Then don’t go back,” Fraser says softly, turning his head so his lips just brush against Ray’s ear. “Stay.”