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ds_flashfictionAnd then, bang, I'm wide awake at eight in the morning, and you get this. 827 words. Sorry about the hockey, it seems to creep in everywhere.
Ray’s face hurt, but he couldn’t quite kill the dopey smile. Ten minutes left in the game, which meant twenty minutes before he had to peel himself off the couch and have the usual stupid argument that he and Fraser substituted for actually saying good night to each other at the end of the night. (You sure you don’t wanna sleep here? Of course not, Ray. Lemme give you a ride. No, there’s no need, I’ll walk. Fine! Walk! Yes, I think I will, as I just said. Fine! I’ll see you tomorrow! Good, I should hope so!) The Blackhawks were up 4-1, and he could just sorta coast for a while, now.
He glanced over at Fraser, who wasn’t smiling at all, but in Fraser-terms, looked like he felt pretty much the same way. Ray’s smile widened a little further, and he quickly looked away. At the next commercial, he said, “Y’know what I wish, Fraser? I wish every day could be just like this. Five years from now, this is what I wanna be doing.” Of course, five and a half years from now, his eyes were gonna go, or maybe his knees, and then he’d be stuck behind a desk til he died...
He glanced over at Fraser again, and realized he was on the receiving end of one of those very low key, Canadian-style, ‘Are you out of your mind?’ looks. “You wouldn’t change anything about today, Ray?”
He thought it over. Okay, so, maybe he didn’t want a gun pointed at him every single day, but where else were you gonna get that great adrenaline rush? Plus he got to watch Fraser go all alpha-Mountie ‘You threatened my partner’ afterward, which always gave him a warm fuzzy feeling. Maybe the damsel in distress could have been a little less grabby, and maybe he could have gotten rid of her before Fraser started giving him the stinkeye, but, hey, appreciative citizens were all in a day’s work. And after that it was just pineapple pizza and watching hockey with Fraser, and he definitely didn’t want to screw with that.
“Nope,” he said, settling back as the game returned on the TV. “Wouldn’t change a thing.”
***
Ben shifted a little and sighed with something oddly like contentment. In a few minutes the game would be over, and he and Ray would get off the couch and go to bed and finish what they’d started sometime around the second intermission, but for a moment this was more about hockey than sex, and more about the weight of his lover pressing him into the couch than anything else at all.
He found his mind returning, as it perversely tended to do at moments like this, to that night, years ago, when he’d thought this was all an impossible fantasy. After a long, miserable day in which he’d watched Ray nearly get killed, watched Ray flirt outrageously with yet another interchangeable woman, and watched Edmonton get pasted by Chicago, Ray had turned to him and announced that he didn’t want to change any of it. He’d grasped for some small thread of hope: perhaps, in five years, Ray imagined that he might use his partner’s first name, or that they might not be still dealing with the endless importunities of life as officers of the law in Chicago. Perhaps Ray’s vision of the future included some sort of romantic success for them, if not with each other as Ben secretly dreamed, then with someone. But Ray had only shaken his head, and said he wouldn’t change a thing.
“Hey,” Ray muttered, raising his head from Ben’s chest and giving him a sleepy look almost comically at odds with the wide-awake attitude of the rest of his body, “Ben, you remember that time when I said I wished nothing would ever change?”
He smiled. Ray occasionally claimed to be disturbed by these synchronicities in their thinking, but he enjoyed the evidence that they were so perfectly in tune. “Yes, Ray, I was just thinking of it myself.”
Ray nodded, and laid his head back down. “I’m glad I was right.”
Fraser didn’t know whether to laugh or check Ray for signs of concussion. “I beg your pardon?”
Ray lifted his head, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows. “I was right, Ben. Five years on, and here I am: catching bad guys, eating pizza, and watching hockey. With you.”
Ben couldn’t help raising his voice a little, as though Ray were perhaps hard of hearing. “In the Arctic, Ray. Making your own pizza. Rooting for the Oilers. And with me...”
Ray smiled smugly. “With you, buddy. I was completely right.”
“Wrong.”
“Right.”
“Wrong.”
Ray suddenly burst out laughing, and Fraser was too genuinely pleased with life to pursue the argument in the face of his lover’s happiness. “See?” Ray gasped, “We never even learned to just say good night like normal people.”
Ray’s face hurt, but he couldn’t quite kill the dopey smile. Ten minutes left in the game, which meant twenty minutes before he had to peel himself off the couch and have the usual stupid argument that he and Fraser substituted for actually saying good night to each other at the end of the night. (You sure you don’t wanna sleep here? Of course not, Ray. Lemme give you a ride. No, there’s no need, I’ll walk. Fine! Walk! Yes, I think I will, as I just said. Fine! I’ll see you tomorrow! Good, I should hope so!) The Blackhawks were up 4-1, and he could just sorta coast for a while, now.
He glanced over at Fraser, who wasn’t smiling at all, but in Fraser-terms, looked like he felt pretty much the same way. Ray’s smile widened a little further, and he quickly looked away. At the next commercial, he said, “Y’know what I wish, Fraser? I wish every day could be just like this. Five years from now, this is what I wanna be doing.” Of course, five and a half years from now, his eyes were gonna go, or maybe his knees, and then he’d be stuck behind a desk til he died...
He glanced over at Fraser again, and realized he was on the receiving end of one of those very low key, Canadian-style, ‘Are you out of your mind?’ looks. “You wouldn’t change anything about today, Ray?”
He thought it over. Okay, so, maybe he didn’t want a gun pointed at him every single day, but where else were you gonna get that great adrenaline rush? Plus he got to watch Fraser go all alpha-Mountie ‘You threatened my partner’ afterward, which always gave him a warm fuzzy feeling. Maybe the damsel in distress could have been a little less grabby, and maybe he could have gotten rid of her before Fraser started giving him the stinkeye, but, hey, appreciative citizens were all in a day’s work. And after that it was just pineapple pizza and watching hockey with Fraser, and he definitely didn’t want to screw with that.
“Nope,” he said, settling back as the game returned on the TV. “Wouldn’t change a thing.”
***
Ben shifted a little and sighed with something oddly like contentment. In a few minutes the game would be over, and he and Ray would get off the couch and go to bed and finish what they’d started sometime around the second intermission, but for a moment this was more about hockey than sex, and more about the weight of his lover pressing him into the couch than anything else at all.
He found his mind returning, as it perversely tended to do at moments like this, to that night, years ago, when he’d thought this was all an impossible fantasy. After a long, miserable day in which he’d watched Ray nearly get killed, watched Ray flirt outrageously with yet another interchangeable woman, and watched Edmonton get pasted by Chicago, Ray had turned to him and announced that he didn’t want to change any of it. He’d grasped for some small thread of hope: perhaps, in five years, Ray imagined that he might use his partner’s first name, or that they might not be still dealing with the endless importunities of life as officers of the law in Chicago. Perhaps Ray’s vision of the future included some sort of romantic success for them, if not with each other as Ben secretly dreamed, then with someone. But Ray had only shaken his head, and said he wouldn’t change a thing.
“Hey,” Ray muttered, raising his head from Ben’s chest and giving him a sleepy look almost comically at odds with the wide-awake attitude of the rest of his body, “Ben, you remember that time when I said I wished nothing would ever change?”
He smiled. Ray occasionally claimed to be disturbed by these synchronicities in their thinking, but he enjoyed the evidence that they were so perfectly in tune. “Yes, Ray, I was just thinking of it myself.”
Ray nodded, and laid his head back down. “I’m glad I was right.”
Fraser didn’t know whether to laugh or check Ray for signs of concussion. “I beg your pardon?”
Ray lifted his head, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows. “I was right, Ben. Five years on, and here I am: catching bad guys, eating pizza, and watching hockey. With you.”
Ben couldn’t help raising his voice a little, as though Ray were perhaps hard of hearing. “In the Arctic, Ray. Making your own pizza. Rooting for the Oilers. And with me...”
Ray smiled smugly. “With you, buddy. I was completely right.”
“Wrong.”
“Right.”
“Wrong.”
Ray suddenly burst out laughing, and Fraser was too genuinely pleased with life to pursue the argument in the face of his lover’s happiness. “See?” Ray gasped, “We never even learned to just say good night like normal people.”
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no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 07:12 am (UTC)Lovely look the 'now' and 'then' of their relationship. That Fraser and Ray have such different interpretations of what the events of that day meant, yet share an equal sense of the day's importance says to me that 'yes, they are very different (and will probably remain so), but that doesn't mean they shouldn't/couldn't/wouldn't be together."
Oh...and this? ...perhaps, in five years, Ray imagined that he might use his partner’s first name... It made me smile.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 04:20 pm (UTC)And for the rest... I figured, it's not a duet if they're singing in unison, right?
no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 07:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 04:21 pm (UTC)Great Big Aaaaw!
Date: 2003-04-30 07:23 am (UTC)Re: Great Big Aaaaw!
Date: 2003-04-30 04:23 pm (UTC)Sweet
Date: 2003-04-30 07:42 am (UTC)You write these two so well.
Re: Sweet
Date: 2003-04-30 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 08:13 am (UTC)I love you. You know I so totally love you, right? Of *course* they're in the Arctic! That's exactly what Ray wanted. To be with Fraser. Perfectly logical equation.
I have to take Ray's side in this argument. Doesn't matter, they're just going to make it up in bed anyway. :)
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Date: 2003-04-30 04:52 pm (UTC)And hey, you'll notice I gave Ray the last word, there. :) Fraser's just hung up on meaningless details...
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Date: 2003-04-30 09:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 11:42 am (UTC)You know I've started saving your stuff for last when I see it. Promise me you'll write something long after this challenge? Cause I'm all missing your Ray and Fraser.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 04:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 04:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 03:44 pm (UTC)Sweet, sweet, sweet, like really smooth sherry.
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Date: 2003-04-30 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 04:33 pm (UTC)*enables creeping-hockey plotlines*
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Date: 2003-04-30 05:04 pm (UTC)And you really gotta watch out for that hockey stuff; it's summer now, so I can't watch hockey, I can only make Fraser and Ray watch hockey. And talk about it. And play it. And. Stuff.
This isn't going to be funny anymore when I write an AU about them as hockey players... ;)
Re:
Date: 2003-04-30 08:20 pm (UTC)Just, you know. A thought. <3333
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Date: 2003-04-30 08:34 pm (UTC)And hockey? Hockey is a damn slashy sport, huh? All those big sweaty guys grabbing each other all the time, patting each other on the head, rooming together for road trips and living in each other's pockets eight months out of the year... I'm just saying. OTOH, I'm totally traumatized by actual hockeyslash.
And hey - have I found somebody else in the dS fandom who's *not* an Avs fan?! Please, please tell me I have. Feel free to lie.
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Date: 2003-04-30 09:21 pm (UTC)I cannot imagine hockey players I've loved in the past getting down with other hockey players. Dear god, no. I loved Mario Lemieux with a passion that emcompassed the sun, and if someone had ever mentioned his name and 'blowjob' in the same sentance, I think my head would have exploded. Unless it was along the lines of, "Lemieux deserves 47 million blowjobs for last night's game, because that was one sweet fucking hat trick." But only then.
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Date: 2003-04-30 09:27 pm (UTC)And, yeah. Hockey players are cute together, but imagining them actually Getting It On is... disturbing. I mean... I ran across this fakejournal and it was Luc Robitaille/Steve Yzerman, and... scarred. for. life.
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Date: 2003-04-30 09:37 pm (UTC)For the . . . hockey. Right. And not the extrememly fuckable actors, or anything.
I think fakejournals are fun, to an extent. I admit it, I've written some RPS in my day, but when it's the jocks and assholes I've loved all my life I twitch. I mean, if someone were to point me to say, a Tino Martinez or Jorge Posada fakejournal, I think I would throw up. No, thank you kindly.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 10:00 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-05-01 06:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 07:40 am (UTC)I love their differing takes on the situation- such a good illustration of their different (and yet complementary!) mindsets.
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Date: 2003-05-01 04:24 pm (UTC)Re: I thought, maybe I won't write anything for this one...
Date: 2003-05-01 12:53 pm (UTC)Re: I thought, maybe I won't write anything for this one...
Date: 2003-05-01 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 05:53 pm (UTC)Heh! Ray has all the important things down.
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Date: 2003-05-01 06:09 pm (UTC)