ds_flashfiction | actually written in the middle of the night...

...and unbetaed to boot, because I'm tired and too impatient to wait til somebody else has woken up and logged on. 822 words and not especially a story, but this is the only thing I wanted to write when I saw the challenge. For

estrella30, who encouraged me.

Fraser woke abruptly in the middle of the night, his heart racing as if from some shock. He lay still, trying to work out what had woken him, but he could detect no lingering sound, and nothing seemed out of place. Ray, whose sleep had been light and restless for the past week, lay undisturbed beside him.

He closed his eyes and reached back into his own mind, searching for some memory of the dream that had flung him so precipitously into consciousness. All his straining brought nothing but a faint false echo of his father's voice: Pay attention, son.

Fraser opened his eyes again and stared up at the ceiling, wracking his sleep-mired brain, wondering what it was he'd been neglecting. He'd been away from the consulate a great deal of late, but matters there seemed safely in hand nonetheless, and the case that had run him and Ray ragged for the past week was closed and done now. That was the only reason they were both here, sleeping--up til now they'd spent every possible moment working, sleeping in Ray's car or on holding cell cots when they could push themselves no further.

They had been too exhausted and heartsick to find much joy in closing the case, but a certain grim satisfaction had carried them home. Safe behind locked doors and drawn curtains, they had made love frantically, desperately, like starving men, before collapsing at last into sleep.

Only to wake, Fraser thought ruefully, still frantic, albeit in a far less pleasurable bent. He looked again at Ray--he could never keep his eyes from his partner for long--and wondered if it was here he was meant to direct his attention. For all the time they'd spent together, working this case, they'd had very little time for one another. Every whispered word exchanged, every private glance, had been a moment of vigilance stolen from duty, and they had been only petty thieves.

Fraser pushed up on one elbow, reaching to draw the curtain aside slightly, allowing the streetlight glow to brighten the room--not enough to wake Ray, but enough to make him easily visible.

Ray slept on, serene in his well-earned rest as he had not been while the case remained unresolved. The ruddy cast of sodium light hid the sprinkle of silver in his hair and the weary pallor of his face. He still looked underfed to Fraser's practiced eye, but that was only to be expected after their recent strain. When morning came, there would be a celebratory breakfast, followed some hours later by a celebratory lunch and, in all likelihood, a celebratory dinner. Ray would resume remembering to eat, and all would be well.

Fraser let go of the curtain, and before his light-dazzled eyes, Ray was suddenly a dark shape, all grey shadows and stillness. Fraser's heart stuttered at the thought that there might be some more insidious threat to guard against--but Ray had shown no signs of ill health in the last several days, when his weariness would have made any such signs more apparent. Fraser leaned closer, listening, but Ray's breathing was even and untroubled.

Fraser leaned closer still, bracing himself over Ray and lowering his head to rest one ear, lightly, weightlessly, against his chest as it rose and fell. He ignored the strain in his own weary shoulders, the tremor in the too-long-tensed muscles of his neck, holding his position as Ray's heart beat under his ear. He closed his eyes to focus on the sound, but even to his excellent hearing, the sound was perfectly steady. Ray's skin was warm where his cheek made contact, and the sheets were soft under his palms and across the backs of his thighs, and it was, after all, the middle of the night.

Fraser didn't move away from his post, but settled himself across Ray's body, slowly trusting his weight to his partner. Really, if there was anything he had been neglecting in his slumber, it was the chance to appreciate this moment--together with Ray in the quiet darkness, lying in the bed they shared, skin to skin with hours yet before either of them would have any reason to stir.

Ray's hand rose from where it had been resting, outflung on the mattress, and fell onto Fraser's hair. "Frase?" Ray slurred, more asleep than awake, a partner's nickname still coming more readily than a lover's familiarities, "Y'okay?"

Fraser blinked his eyes open wide and smiled, determined to remember--to stay awake and appreciate--to wallow in this hour, not stolen, but theirs by right. He stroked one hand across Ray's shoulder, down his arm and back up. "I'm fine, Ray. Everything is fine."

Ray's hand moved back and forth, ruffling his hair almost in slow motion, and some sleepy reflex made him murmur, "That's good," into the silence, but Fraser was already asleep.

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lamardeuse.livejournal.com

Ohhhhhhhh. :) I be lovin' this challenge.

From:

actually written in the middle of the night...

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