more fic

[jenboo.livejournal.com]

and a new word! Well, maybe. *g* 1000 words on the nose....and I almost forgot! Mild spoiler for 'Ladies Man', in case anyone's concerned.


I remember the first time I did this. Not the dancing by myself in my living room thing. Hell, I’ve been doing that for a long time. Since Stell and me split.

The first time I danced by myself in my living room and imagined Benton Fraser was my partner was the night I walked Beth Botrelle through her house and relived the night her husband was killed.

Frase massaged my neck in the car while I totally lost it, crying my eyes out with relief and regret. Eight years of that woman’s life gone and it was my fault. Yeah, yeah, I know. It wasn’t all my fault, but I was a link in the chain that nearly killed her. I couldn’t help but let it all loose when we finally made it as right as we could.

When I was together enough to drive, he let me take him back to the consulate. He asked if I wanted him to stay with me, but I said no, I needed some time to myself to think. Which wasn’t all a lie. I needed to think, yeah. I needed to do some more crying.

I needed to dance. To get the extra feeling out so I could handle going on with life. I knew dancing would get me to that zen place inside where I could deal with it all.

So I drove home, poured myself two fingers of Belvedere and put the bottle back in the freezer, and put on an old Glenn Miller cd. I downed the vodka, put one track on repeat and closed my eyes, listening to Moonlight Serenade and feeling Fraser in my arms grounding me, following me, sheltering me.

Now it’s a regular thing. Three or four times a week I’ve got the stereo on and Moonlight Serenade fills the room and Frase is there, right where he should be.

It’s like masturbating, only without the mess at the end. Dancerbating, maybe. I feel like I’m flying across the floor, pretending my arms are full of Fraser, pretending my heart is just full.

Well, that part isn’t pretending. My heart is full. Of Fraser. And how nuts is that?

Not quite as nuts as the nights where my brain doesn’t make him behave and he starts licking my neck, tasting me for Christ’s sake. Those nights I end up face down on the bed, humping a pillow and pretending it’s Prime Canadian Mountie ass.

Tonight, after a good day at work with Frase and me cracking open a tough case, it’s enough to close my eyes and guide my ghost Mountie around the floor and imagine I’m looking into his eyes and he’s smiling back at me. Like we’re the only two people in the world that matter. It’s a little earlier than usual, but I want to hold on to the warm, fuzzy feeling.

So on with the music and the slick Kowalski moves. Into that place that makes life feel about as good as it’ll get. I’m on the third or fourth repeat of the song when I hear someone calling my name.

“…Ray, Ray, RAY.”

Oh, shit. Play it casual, Kowalski. “Hey, Frase.”

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I heard the music and knew you were here. The door was unlocked so I came in. I brought dinner.”

My palms are sweaty but I try to stay cool. “Thanks, Frase. I really didn’t think about dinner. Figured I’d have a peanut butter sandwich or something.” I shrug and put my hands in my back pockets and try not to babble or look stupid. But it’s tough to do with that eyebrow raised at me.

“I was worried about you, Ray. You seemed a little distant when you dropped me at the Consulate.”

“Just in the zone, Ben-buddy. It was a good day. I wanted to hold onto it, didn’t want to ruin it with talking.”

“Oh. Is that what you were doing?” he asks, making this gesture that I know means the dancing. “Holding on to the good day?”

No I was holding on to you. He didn’t quite get it right, but for some reason it makes that warm, fuzzy feeling grow because he at least gets part of it. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I can’t help but grin at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. So, what’d you bring for dinner?”

That was the right thing to say because he grins back and holds up the bag. “Rama chicken, pad thai with tofu – don’t wrinkle your nose, you can pick around it – and black sticky rice pudding for dessert.”

I grab the bag and put it on the table to unpack it while Fraser gets plates and forks. “No Thai coffee?”

He rolls his eyes at me while he starts to dish up. “It’s too late for caffeine, Ray.”

I roll my eyes right back at him. “It’s never too late for caffeine, Fraser. Never.”

We settle down with plates of three-star-hot Thai food and eat in silence until I catch Fraser sneaking a look at me.

“What? I got spinach on my chin?”

“I was just wondering…do you ever want to dance with a partner?”

For some reason, the relaxed place I’m in doesn’t let me lie to him. Still, I can’t look him in the eye, so I stare down at my mostly eaten dinner. “Yeah, Frase, I do.”

He’s quiet for a minute and then he takes a deep breath. “I’m your partner, Ray.”

I look up and I see something I’ve never seen before. Fraser longing for something. And all of a sudden it hits me that I’ve been dancing with my eyes closed for so long that I forgot to really look at what was around me.

I walk over to the stereo and turn on Glenn Miller again and this time he’s really there, solid and warm in my arms. And this time I don’t close my eyes.