Lie/Lay Challenge by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma and <user site="livejournal.co
Mar. 8th, 2005 08:50 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_flashfictionAnother serialkarma and lalejandra co-production. 1560 words of PG-13 Fraser/Kowalski
For reasons that do not need exploring at this juncture, Ray and Fraser are laying on their backs in the park, talking about grammar. Well, Fraser is talking about grammar; Ray is trying to figure out how to hide his erection. And maybe they are lying; Ray doesn't know. That's what he's got Fraser for -- to tell him whether he's laying or lying, whether he lays or lies. That's what Fraser is talking about now, and Ray is kind of tuning him out. Not on purpose, but because Ray is focused on something else at the moment. Namely how to turn over without Fraser wanting to know if Ray has a sudden interest in dirt and insects.
Does he lay or lie? Ray lies, all the time, about everything. That's his job, it's what he does, and it's how he gets through the fucking day.
Does he lay? He hasn't laid or been laid in so long it's pathetic, which would probably explain why he's got this issue with having to turn over right about now.
Fraser's going to look over in a minute and then Ray's going to have to explain more than just a sudden interest in ants, so he's just going to do it. Also, he's going to end this conversation—if you can call it that, when Fraser’s the only one talking—because there are few things that interest Ray less than grammar. You'd think that would have been enough to kill his hard-on, but his dick apparently likes it when Fraser uses words like "subjunctive" and "predicate," which just goes to show Ray's life makes no fucking sense sometimes.
He turns over and rests his chin on his linked fingers in front of him. "Fraser. I should probably tell you that I never got more than a D+ in English in my entire life. If it hasn't sunk in by now, it ain't gonna." So he's using bad grammar on purpose now just to annoy Fraser. Everyone needs a hobby.
"It's never too late for proper grammar, Ray," Fraser says, reaching out and brushing grass and dirt off the back of Ray's t-shirt.
Oh, yeah. That’s going to help his problem.
His back arches up into Fraser’s hand and he freezes, thinking that this is it, Fraser's gonna catch him, but Fraser just swipes his hand down and back up, pressing harder into Ray's muscles. This is not relaxing. This is not relaxing. Ray pushes his dick into the ground, sniffs in through his nose, and gets a faceful of dirt. He sneezes and chokes.
"Ray, are you all right?" says Fraser, who is now laying lying scrambling to be face down so that his face is right up next to Ray's.
"Yes," chokes out Ray, his eyes streaming tears. He rubs his fists in each, pushing his dick harder into the ground, except something's wrong because his eyes are burning.
"Ray. Ray. Ray." Fraser catches his fists, holds them out. "Stop. You have dirt in your eyes."
Ray struggles to open his eyes; Fraser is blurry. One of Fraser's hands is holding Ray's eye open while the other carefully pokes at Ray's eye.
"Hey, watch it there," says Ray sharply. "I gotta see out of those."
"Is seeing what you do with these?" Fraser asks innocently, and Ray snickers.
"Yeah, okay, maybe they ain't so good at that." Ray winces at his own grammar this time, but Fraser doesn't mention it. He carefully cleans out Ray's eyes, then offers Ray a bottle of something.
"Just splash your eyes with this water to finish draining them," says Fraser. Ray does it, and then blinks, rolls back onto his back to stare into the sun and dry his face off.
"Jesus," he says finally. "That sucked."
He looks over at Fraser, who is still on his own stomach. "Hm," says Fraser.
Hm. That's remarkably monas--no, monosyllabic considering the way Fraser was going on a couple minutes ago. Fraser's face is a little pink, now that he can see it again. It could maybe be sunburn, but they haven't been out here that long. Also, Fraser’s not looking him in the eye and Ray knows that not-looking thing, that’s what you do when you don’t want to let on about something.
Ray's erection is long gone, because fancy words may turn him on, but coughing, choking, and crap in his eyes definitely do not. But it looks like Fraser’s maybe dealing with a turning-over issue of his own.
He can still feel Fraser's fingers on his face; his cheekbones are tingling where Fraser’s thumb was resting. And Fraser’s still not looking at him. But Fraser’s got dirt and grass all over his own back, now, so Ray decides to return the favor and reaches over to brush the crap off of Fraser’s grass-stained t-shirt. He ignores it when Fraser flinches and just keeps running his hand from Fraser’s shoulder blades to his waist and back up again. When he’s gone all the way from one side to the next he starts going across, working his way from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, down. Gotta be thorough. And maybe, just maybe, Fraser’s breathing a little harder?
Ray chances a look at Fraser’s face and realizes it’s buried in Fraser’s arms.
“Careful, Fraser, you’re gonna get dirt in your eyes.” Yeah, he can be petty.
Like he said, everyone’s got to have a hobby, and maybe Ray's hobby is a stupid one, but someone's got to pay attention to Fraser.
Ray keeps brushing at Fraser's back until all the dirt and leaves are gone, and then he's brushing at Fraser's back just to touch Fraser, which is kinda weird--more than kinda weird, it's totally weird, and it makes Ray feel weird and they probably look weird to anyone who is passing by and even Dief is looking at them funny from where he's got a squirrel cornered against a tree.
Looks like the squirrel wants to be cornered though, because otherwise wouldn't it run up the tree?
Ray definitely can relate to the squirrel and all his--her?--conflicts.
Fraser is moving into his hands now, and Ray realizes he's stopped brushing and started rubbing and there’s really no way to pretend this is still cleaning the dirt off. He should probably stop, except his hand doesn’t seem to want to. His hand is perfectly fucking fine doing exactly what it’s doing and probably would be forever. Ray leans forward a little and kind of squints at what he can see of Fraser's face--his eyes still hurt from the dirt, everything's a little more blurry than usual--and Fraser looks like he's gonna cry or die or something.
Come.
Ray snickers. This is ridiculous.
"Care to share the joke?" asks Fraser frostily. Ray picks his hand up off Fraser's back and scoots away a little, brings his knees up to his chest.
"I was just thinking about how weird we are, that's all," says Ray. "That okay? We've been laying here for about an hour already just looking at shit and--"
"We've been lying here," says Fraser. He sits up and straightens his shirt, which Ray is pretty sure he starched. Who starches a t-shirt? Of course Benton Fraser does. He decides never to introduce his mom to Fraser, out of fear for his own wardrobe. He'd end up with starched boxers, he knows it, and the idea of Fraser touching his boxers? He's gonna have a hard-on problem again. Soon. "Were you not listening, Ray?"
"Of course I was listening," says Ray. "Chickens lay eggs, we tell lies, and we sit around on our asses on our day off." He means it to sound funny, but it just sounds rude.
"I thought you and Diefenbaker would enjoy a picnic." Fraser gets even stiffer, if that's possible, and Ray feels weirder, and also more like a shit. "You should have said something if you weren’t in the mood."
"I’m in the mood, I’m in the mood, okay?" says Ray. Oh yeah. He’s in the mood all right. Well, he was. Now it seem like the mood, that little bubble of Maybe This Time, is broken. Ray’s not sure if he’s sorry, or relieved.
He sighs a little and lays down--lies down?--on his back, puts his hands under his head, and stares at the blurry sky. "Look, let's not fight." He doesn’t look over at Fraser's face. "Just... tell me some more about the predictivates."
"The predicates?" Ray thinks for a moment that Fraser is going to pick a fight with him--or just finish this one, or just say something totally mean and un-Fraser-like, but Fraser just clears his throat and says, "The predicate is what is said about the subject of a sentence. For example, that Ray is a fine detective is beyond question."
Ray blushes a little, and feels himself slip back into the floaty mood he'd been in before, when Fraser was talking about the parts of speech and Ray was getting hard. His jeans are a little tight, but he's not at the point where he'd embarrass himself, so he drifts off again as Fraser talks about different things that can be the subject of a sentence, just closes his eyes and lets Fraser's voice wash over him.
**end**
serialkarma and lalejandra co-production. 1560 words of PG-13 Fraser/KowalskiFor reasons that do not need exploring at this juncture, Ray and Fraser are laying on their backs in the park, talking about grammar. Well, Fraser is talking about grammar; Ray is trying to figure out how to hide his erection. And maybe they are lying; Ray doesn't know. That's what he's got Fraser for -- to tell him whether he's laying or lying, whether he lays or lies. That's what Fraser is talking about now, and Ray is kind of tuning him out. Not on purpose, but because Ray is focused on something else at the moment. Namely how to turn over without Fraser wanting to know if Ray has a sudden interest in dirt and insects.
Does he lay or lie? Ray lies, all the time, about everything. That's his job, it's what he does, and it's how he gets through the fucking day.
Does he lay? He hasn't laid or been laid in so long it's pathetic, which would probably explain why he's got this issue with having to turn over right about now.
Fraser's going to look over in a minute and then Ray's going to have to explain more than just a sudden interest in ants, so he's just going to do it. Also, he's going to end this conversation—if you can call it that, when Fraser’s the only one talking—because there are few things that interest Ray less than grammar. You'd think that would have been enough to kill his hard-on, but his dick apparently likes it when Fraser uses words like "subjunctive" and "predicate," which just goes to show Ray's life makes no fucking sense sometimes.
He turns over and rests his chin on his linked fingers in front of him. "Fraser. I should probably tell you that I never got more than a D+ in English in my entire life. If it hasn't sunk in by now, it ain't gonna." So he's using bad grammar on purpose now just to annoy Fraser. Everyone needs a hobby.
"It's never too late for proper grammar, Ray," Fraser says, reaching out and brushing grass and dirt off the back of Ray's t-shirt.
Oh, yeah. That’s going to help his problem.
His back arches up into Fraser’s hand and he freezes, thinking that this is it, Fraser's gonna catch him, but Fraser just swipes his hand down and back up, pressing harder into Ray's muscles. This is not relaxing. This is not relaxing. Ray pushes his dick into the ground, sniffs in through his nose, and gets a faceful of dirt. He sneezes and chokes.
"Ray, are you all right?" says Fraser, who is now laying lying scrambling to be face down so that his face is right up next to Ray's.
"Yes," chokes out Ray, his eyes streaming tears. He rubs his fists in each, pushing his dick harder into the ground, except something's wrong because his eyes are burning.
"Ray. Ray. Ray." Fraser catches his fists, holds them out. "Stop. You have dirt in your eyes."
Ray struggles to open his eyes; Fraser is blurry. One of Fraser's hands is holding Ray's eye open while the other carefully pokes at Ray's eye.
"Hey, watch it there," says Ray sharply. "I gotta see out of those."
"Is seeing what you do with these?" Fraser asks innocently, and Ray snickers.
"Yeah, okay, maybe they ain't so good at that." Ray winces at his own grammar this time, but Fraser doesn't mention it. He carefully cleans out Ray's eyes, then offers Ray a bottle of something.
"Just splash your eyes with this water to finish draining them," says Fraser. Ray does it, and then blinks, rolls back onto his back to stare into the sun and dry his face off.
"Jesus," he says finally. "That sucked."
He looks over at Fraser, who is still on his own stomach. "Hm," says Fraser.
Hm. That's remarkably monas--no, monosyllabic considering the way Fraser was going on a couple minutes ago. Fraser's face is a little pink, now that he can see it again. It could maybe be sunburn, but they haven't been out here that long. Also, Fraser’s not looking him in the eye and Ray knows that not-looking thing, that’s what you do when you don’t want to let on about something.
Ray's erection is long gone, because fancy words may turn him on, but coughing, choking, and crap in his eyes definitely do not. But it looks like Fraser’s maybe dealing with a turning-over issue of his own.
He can still feel Fraser's fingers on his face; his cheekbones are tingling where Fraser’s thumb was resting. And Fraser’s still not looking at him. But Fraser’s got dirt and grass all over his own back, now, so Ray decides to return the favor and reaches over to brush the crap off of Fraser’s grass-stained t-shirt. He ignores it when Fraser flinches and just keeps running his hand from Fraser’s shoulder blades to his waist and back up again. When he’s gone all the way from one side to the next he starts going across, working his way from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, down. Gotta be thorough. And maybe, just maybe, Fraser’s breathing a little harder?
Ray chances a look at Fraser’s face and realizes it’s buried in Fraser’s arms.
“Careful, Fraser, you’re gonna get dirt in your eyes.” Yeah, he can be petty.
Like he said, everyone’s got to have a hobby, and maybe Ray's hobby is a stupid one, but someone's got to pay attention to Fraser.
Ray keeps brushing at Fraser's back until all the dirt and leaves are gone, and then he's brushing at Fraser's back just to touch Fraser, which is kinda weird--more than kinda weird, it's totally weird, and it makes Ray feel weird and they probably look weird to anyone who is passing by and even Dief is looking at them funny from where he's got a squirrel cornered against a tree.
Looks like the squirrel wants to be cornered though, because otherwise wouldn't it run up the tree?
Ray definitely can relate to the squirrel and all his--her?--conflicts.
Fraser is moving into his hands now, and Ray realizes he's stopped brushing and started rubbing and there’s really no way to pretend this is still cleaning the dirt off. He should probably stop, except his hand doesn’t seem to want to. His hand is perfectly fucking fine doing exactly what it’s doing and probably would be forever. Ray leans forward a little and kind of squints at what he can see of Fraser's face--his eyes still hurt from the dirt, everything's a little more blurry than usual--and Fraser looks like he's gonna cry or die or something.
Come.
Ray snickers. This is ridiculous.
"Care to share the joke?" asks Fraser frostily. Ray picks his hand up off Fraser's back and scoots away a little, brings his knees up to his chest.
"I was just thinking about how weird we are, that's all," says Ray. "That okay? We've been laying here for about an hour already just looking at shit and--"
"We've been lying here," says Fraser. He sits up and straightens his shirt, which Ray is pretty sure he starched. Who starches a t-shirt? Of course Benton Fraser does. He decides never to introduce his mom to Fraser, out of fear for his own wardrobe. He'd end up with starched boxers, he knows it, and the idea of Fraser touching his boxers? He's gonna have a hard-on problem again. Soon. "Were you not listening, Ray?"
"Of course I was listening," says Ray. "Chickens lay eggs, we tell lies, and we sit around on our asses on our day off." He means it to sound funny, but it just sounds rude.
"I thought you and Diefenbaker would enjoy a picnic." Fraser gets even stiffer, if that's possible, and Ray feels weirder, and also more like a shit. "You should have said something if you weren’t in the mood."
"I’m in the mood, I’m in the mood, okay?" says Ray. Oh yeah. He’s in the mood all right. Well, he was. Now it seem like the mood, that little bubble of Maybe This Time, is broken. Ray’s not sure if he’s sorry, or relieved.
He sighs a little and lays down--lies down?--on his back, puts his hands under his head, and stares at the blurry sky. "Look, let's not fight." He doesn’t look over at Fraser's face. "Just... tell me some more about the predictivates."
"The predicates?" Ray thinks for a moment that Fraser is going to pick a fight with him--or just finish this one, or just say something totally mean and un-Fraser-like, but Fraser just clears his throat and says, "The predicate is what is said about the subject of a sentence. For example, that Ray is a fine detective is beyond question."
Ray blushes a little, and feels himself slip back into the floaty mood he'd been in before, when Fraser was talking about the parts of speech and Ray was getting hard. His jeans are a little tight, but he's not at the point where he'd embarrass himself, so he drifts off again as Fraser talks about different things that can be the subject of a sentence, just closes his eyes and lets Fraser's voice wash over him.
**end**
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Date: 2005-03-08 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-09 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-24 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-08 02:32 pm (UTC)Now it seem like the mood, that little bubble of Maybe This Time, is broken. Ray’s not sure if he’s sorry, or relieved.
I love that line, fuck, that whole *concept* more than I can say.
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Date: 2005-03-09 02:09 am (UTC)hahaha. Um. Yes, we thought so, too.*g*
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Date: 2005-03-08 02:38 pm (UTC)This is just delightful. It's a halfway to grammar porn, which totally butters my muffin. And speaking of grammar porn, have you considered writing a follow-up that has the porn part? Yeah, I'm greedy, I know.
Thanks for the great start to my day, because what could beat Fraser and Ray and grammar in the park?
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Date: 2005-03-09 02:12 am (UTC)Heeee.
This is just delightful. It's a halfway to grammar porn, which totally butters my muffin. And speaking of grammar porn, have you considered writing a follow-up that has the porn part?
we tried to make it grammar porn, but the story wanted to end there. I'm so pleased you liked it, thanks!
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Date: 2005-03-08 02:55 pm (UTC)::beams::
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Date: 2005-03-09 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-03-11 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-11 03:33 am (UTC)Oh, yeah, tell me about it!
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Date: 2005-03-08 08:57 pm (UTC)Yet another brilliant collaboration that makes me want to go out and maul some poor bastard wearing a uniform. sigh. I laughed so hard there were tears.
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Date: 2005-03-11 03:34 am (UTC)Hee. Sadly, the LAPD has no sense of humor.
I'm so glad you liked it, sweetie!
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Date: 2005-03-08 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-10 05:32 am (UTC)There's always next time!
Exactly. :)
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Date: 2005-03-09 12:43 am (UTC)So he's using bad grammar on purpose now just to annoy Fraser. Everyone needs a hobby.
My god - seperately you two are amazing, but together you're just...well, amazing times TWO. Times TWENTY TWO! Times a BAZILLION AND TWO!
This is awesome. The voices, the subject. The whole damn thing.
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Date: 2005-03-10 05:32 am (UTC)<3
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Date: 2005-03-10 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-11 03:35 am (UTC)Oh, that's because it's my turn to do the MWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA.
*snerk*
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Date: 2005-03-09 01:11 am (UTC)What they said. The maybe/maybe not, Ray's annoy-the-Mountie hobby, the squirrel, it's all great! I'm particularily fond of the argument, the way they're bitching and arguing in a non-sexual, not-so-polite way.
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Date: 2005-03-10 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-09 02:15 am (UTC)Fraser/Ray AND grammar??? You have DESTROYED me!!!
*twitches with happiness*
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Date: 2005-03-10 05:31 am (UTC)THank you, dear!!
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Date: 2005-03-09 04:06 am (UTC)Fraser just clears his throat and says, "The predicate is what is said about the subject of a sentence. For example, that Ray is a fine detective is beyond question."
Awww. :)
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Date: 2005-03-10 05:31 am (UTC)I love that suspended feeling you created between them
It's all about years and years of anticipation. Heh.
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Date: 2005-03-09 06:08 am (UTC)Like he said, everyone’s got to have a hobby, and maybe Ray's hobby is a stupid one, but someone's got to pay attention to Fraser.
Sign me up for that hobby, please.
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Date: 2005-03-10 05:30 am (UTC)Word!
And thanks. :)
*sigh* I don't know how to use tags.
Date: 2005-03-10 05:43 pm (UTC)seeth with jealousymake me happy with how STELLAR your writing is. I love this line, particularly, a whole damn lot:think that would have been enough to kill his hard-on, but his dick apparently likes it when Fraser uses words like "subjunctive" and "predicate," which just goes to show Ray's life makes no fucking sense sometimes.
*grins SO WIDE*
SUCH a grammar kink have I. SUCH a grammar kink has Ray, at least when Fraser's all right there next to him, and using all these sexy, big words. Dear god. Yes. Thank you.
Re: *sigh* I don't know how to use tags.
Date: 2005-03-11 03:38 am (UTC)So...you liked it? Really? Because I want to be sure about that here. *g*
(Thank you, sweetie, I'm so glad you like it!)
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Date: 2005-03-10 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-11 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-16 02:46 pm (UTC)