ds_flashfiction | Deadly Sins Challenge

Not really deadly sins as much as mildly annoying ones. Still. RayK and Fraser, G ::gasp!::, 1,141 words. Thanks to

chickwriter for their beta services and encouragement.

More Sinned Against

“Ray? Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray…”

“Just ten more minutes, mom…” He blinks, confused by the flickering light, and then remembers. “Shit. Sorry, Frase.” Rubs his hand over his face and pretends it doesn’t hurt. “Where were we?”

“I believe we were discussing the stew—”

“Yeah, right. And I said okay to the green beans, but nix the green peppers.”

“Very well. The green peppers aren’t integral to the recipe.” Fraser shifts, stifling a grunt.

It takes Ray three tries to grab the blanket and pull it higher over Fraser’s shoulders. Damn fingers. “Gotta make sure the meat’s good. That’s the most important thing. My dad, he worked in a meat packing plant—”

“I remember you telling me that.” Fraser smiles, his teeth a flash of white in the dark stubble.

“Yeah. Don’t buy that crap they call stew beef. You need a good steak, nice and thick. Sirloin. Porterhouse, if they cut it right. Slice that baby and brown it in a little oil…” His stomach twists at the thought. The smell. That browning meat would smell so good… “Hey, time for a drink.”

Careful, use both hands. Hold the cup up for Fraser, let him drink as much as he wants. Little sips, don’t want to spill it. His turn, don’t guzzle, don’t be too greedy. Can’t be greedy. He knows exactly how much water remains in the plastic bucket by his side, and it isn’t a whole hell of a lot.

“Bread.” Fraser’s voice sounds thick, like the bread fills his mouth, like he can taste it. “Warm, crusty bread, straight from the oven.”

“With butter.” The water churns in his stomach. “I’ll have two big bowls of stew, a loaf of bread. Couple of beers.”

“You must be careful, Ray. Too much, too soon—”

“Hey! It’s my daydream! Dammit, Fraser, can’t you stop being so damned practical?”

An unexpected surge of warmth flushes Ray’s cheeks, crosses his shoulders, trickles down his arms. Stops just below his elbows. Not a good sign.

Ignore it.

Ray pokes Fraser’s knee, trying to hold onto that warmth. Maybe he can send some over to Fraser, bring a flush to Fraser’s too pale face, spread it down his arms and legs all the way to stiff fingers and chilled toes. “I’ll have *three* bowls, just because I can.”

“Understood.” Fraser winces, and his sigh sounds loud in the tiny space. “I’m sorry, Ray.”

“Fuck sorry!” For a blissful moment he’s almost hot. “I said I didn’t give a shit whose fault it was and I meant it! Coulda been me, happened to be you.” Ray tucks his hands into his pits and scowls. “Fucking wolverines.”

“Indeed.” Fraser pauses, darts him a glance. “Fucking wolverines.”

Ray barks a laugh. Makes his throat sore, but who gives a flying fuck about a sore throat? With his two broken ankles and Fraser’s two broken wrists, no food, dwindling fuel, the threat of death hangs so close that he can practically feel it breathing down his neck. If Dief fails…

But death hasn’t got them yet, and he’s not going without a rumble. Take a piece out of death’s ass, so to speak. He grins.

“Still, you gotta admit we did good. Us: one, wolverines: zip.”

Fraser returns his grin. “A shutout, I believe is the term.”

“Yeah. We blew them out of the water.” He mimes an explosion.

“Actually, *you* blew them off of the ridge.”

“Only after *you* lured them there.”

“We’re a good team.”

“The best.” Ray nods and rolls a little to the side. His butt’s never been too padded to begin with, and now he’s so skinny it’s like his bones rattle against the rocks.

Fraser’s quiet for a minute. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you choose?”

Ray knows his answer, but he waits a couple of heartbeats before shrugging and opening his mouth. “The Keys. Lots of sun, palm trees, all that. On a yacht with hot and cold running food and drink all day and all night.” Not the truth, but not a lie, either.

“That does sound appealing. I used to wish…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Fraser. What did you wish for?” He hates that look on Fraser’s face, the one that reminds him of a kid on the outside looking in. Time to lighten things up. “A bigger hat?”

“Don’t be silly. What would I do with a bigger hat?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, and you’re avoiding the question.”

“I wished for many things, Ray.” Fraser bows his head. “Better social skills, a new pair of snow shoes, the Complete Sherlock Holmes. But I wanted… I envied those who were not alone. Once, for a few, fleeting moments I thought… I deluded myself…”

It’s hard to breathe. Fraser’s never sounded so… lost. And that tears up Ray’s gut even more than no food because he knows what Fraser means, knows that hollow feeling behind his breastbone, knows the cold twist of envy for those who *have*.

“Earth to Fraser.” His voice comes out all croaky. “I’m not the world’s best catch, but I’m still here.”

“I know, Ray. And although I regret the circumstances, I’m grateful for your companionship.”

Companionship. A safe word. A pale, bloodless word for what he and Fraser share. The chill creeps up his arms and legs toward his heart. Fuck that. Might as well be honest, at least this once.

So he leans over, carefully presses his chapped lips to Fraser’s. Closes his eyes, because he’s going to pretend this is a real kiss. Tilts his head, gives Fraser’s lips a little lick. Suddenly, Fraser’s leaning against him, his mouth open, his tongue out, and oh, God! Ray’s warm, everything’s warm, everything’s hot. Bits of him that seemed dead, or at least dormant, perk up quickly. He cups his hands around Fraser’s face, kissing him hard and fast, then slowing down, drawing apart, just their foreheads touching.

“Ray, I—”

“I know. Lousy timing.”

Fraser nods. “Absolutely rotten.”

“But if we were somewhere else, somewhere warm, nothing broken? Would you—”

“In a heartbeat, Ray.”

“Good. Good.” He can’t keep the grin from his face. “Greatness.”

“Modified greatness, perhaps, since we’re still—” He cocks his head to one side.

“Frase?”

Fraser smiles, and it lights up the whole tent. “I’d like to take a rain check on that, Ray. If I’m not mistaken, Dief and a rescue party are less than a quarter mile away.”

“A quarter mile?” He rubs his nose and pretends his face isn’t wet. “I can do a rain check, no problem. How much longer…”

“Less than ten minutes.”

“C’mere, Fraser. Don’t want to waste our last time alone for a while.”

He leans forward, wipes the tears from Ray’s cheeks. “Understood.”