ds_flashfiction | Cheating challenge, by joandarck

joandarck.livejournal.com posting in

Love and thanks to

malnpudl for the help and advice (otherwise known as beta!)
Another version of the scene after the end of Odds.
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: G
Length: 1600 words

Table Stakes

So in the end he had to admit, Fraser was just that good at poker. It wasn't even that he had a perfect blank face the way you'd think. He gave signals, they just didn't make sense. Or every little twitch or smirk could mean three things. He could have the queen, he could be hosed and thinking how to hide it, he could be planning how much he'd gloat three hands from now. A guy could go crazy trying to read that mind.

And his game. Mr. Logic? Not even. First he'd play it so straight you'd think he was getting his moves from the Beginner's Handbook, then he'd pull some crazy kung-fu strategy out of nowhere that shouldn't work and barbecue your ass. More Mountie superpowers. Ray was hanging in there, not losing too bad, but that's just because he was an ordinary guy who'd played a lot of poker and he wasn't going to get walked over. Fraser made him play like a cornered rat, but he did his best work like that.

The pills were kicking in and he still hadn't stiffened up from jumping through that skylight, though odds were he'd be in a world of hurt tomorrow when the high of the bust wore off. Just a little dinged up, no problem with the glass, nothing broken. Wouldn't have needed to do that if Fraser had cut him in earlier, but he didn't mind. It was too good just to sit here like this, everything back and forth, nice and easy.

Yeah, why didn't he mind though? He should be pissed, right? Fraser'd known he'd do it, too. Counted on it. Knew all he had to do was thumb his nose and Ray would up and risk his life again, wildly if not as bizarre this time. That should bite and it didn't. Ray poked around in his head, but all he got was that he'd play the game any time Fraser wanted to deal him in. And Fraser'd needed his help, and they both knew it. Always a two-handed game in the end. And that was just cool.

Even when Fraser painted his losing streak in red across the table. "Straight, king high."

The doubled faces leered up at him. Ray tossed his own cards down. "I got nothing. You want that air right now, or you wanna save it for some time when we're underwater?"

Fraser stopped lifting his head and went still, looking somewhere above the cards, but not all the way to his face. Nothing happened, more nothing, then he said, "Whatever seems most appropriate," sounding pretty normal. He primmed his mouth back up and started scooping up the cards, hands tossing them together like he'd been sharking since his cradle. After a minute, he said, "Ante in?"

At least he still looked like he was having fun. "Oh yeah, whoa, forgot the hold-out roll."

Ray anted up some more air from his reserves and leaned back, trying to figure out what had tripped Fraser that time. He'd swept up his own cards before it hit him, and it made his hands shake a little. Air. Underwater. Mouths. Fraser didn't know, did he? He couldn't know. The most clueless guy to ever walk the planet. He couldn't have picked up on anything.

Drop it, drop it, danger, so of course he went straight for it, like a sore tooth. "Because I could end up owing you a lot of air here. Ho-ow did you wanna get that back?"

The cards went blank under his eyes. He could see them fine, but he couldn't read them.

"Method of delivery wasn't specified in the bet," Fraser said, calm as ever, moving a card from part of his hand to another. He rubbed the back of his hand under his chin - one of his fake tells, Ray had that one pegged by now - and moved the card back again. "It's really your choice."

Except he never fidgeted his cards around once he'd gotten them settled.

That's a thing he never did.

"My choice huh," Ray said, moving his own cards around in hopes the colors and shapes would break up into something he could read again. Cards, cards, come on, he'd been doing this since before junior high. It was no good. He couldn't think. His game, needless to say, went south.

Fraser didn't make sense. Or he did. Or both. It all added up one way, but it all added up another too. But always with one screwball tell going the wrong way so you couldn't get comfortable, couldn't stop wondering. It wasn't cheating, but it wasn't fair play either. You hold out on the other guys, not on your partner. Ray ran on instinct and Fraser was screwing with his instincts. Like he didn't want to be read. Like he didn't get the whole system.

After the third careless discard Fraser even said something, "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"Course I am. No, gimme that."

He made bets his cards couldn't cover. He lost track of the air on the table. He had not a clue what Fraser had played so far, didn't even know what he'd played himself. He heard his name coming from a long way away, which usually means it's time to- "What?"

Fraser was staring at him, head tilted, somewhere in between is-Ray-sick and what-the-funny-monkey-do. "I raised you fifty. Your bet?"

"Ah... two no trump."

"Ray, that's bridge, not poker."

"Whatever." He pulled a card out of the discard pile. "Changed my mind. Still want this. Two pair."

"Ray..."

"Aces are wild."

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure how to..."

"Go fish." He spread the rest of the deck out over the table, face down, some flipping over, this close to playing 52 pickup. "Oh lookee that. I lost. You want that air now?"

He bounced to his feet and Fraser looked up, tilting back into the chair as Ray came to stand over him, not knowing where this was going but too scared to wait. Standing meant he blocked the light over Fraser's face, not that that would have helped him much. Fraser was being cautious and hard to read, but did that mean he got it or he didn't get it, that this was his game or he was so far outside it he really meant nothing when he said or looked or waited or let Ray hold his hand for chrissake or...

And Fraser just sat in the shadow, head cocked. In his tux shirt with the little bow tie he looked different, more human and more remote. The words came out slowly. Certain cards better left hidden until... "I'd say that depends," he said. "On if you want to redeem your wager. Or if you're... oh, looking for a fight, for example." What, no, would he-?

But yeah, okay. He didn't have Ray pegged either. That's what the watching was. He'd seen Ray lose it before, he was ready if it got ugly. He might be ready for other things too. Just a hunch. He'd kissed Denny Scarpa. Ray never knew, he never knew for sure.

But no matter what, he wouldn't be expecting this, because Ray didn't mean to do it. Except he had already put his hands on the sides of Fraser's bare neck, pushed his fingers back around into that regulation hair, thick and softer than it looked like he'd kind of known it would be, and gripped firmly, thumbs pinning his cheeks. "Then how's this? This work for you? Because I still owe you, but just, just one."

At that Fraser's face went blank, wiped completely. Did he - did that mean he's clueless, or - he's not moving, so screw it, time to go, so Ray bent over and put his mouth where he wanted it, Fraser's lips where he could actually feel them this time, no water. No cold, no choking. Warm and bent over in an empty office. Maps and computers all around them, all the lights off but here.

He felt his way through it, moved his head, tried some tongue in and out, gently back and forth, touching, giving Fraser what he'd give a girl who was nervous but game, because no one was moving or fighting it and that meant he had a chance. One chance. Then he moved his tongue back in again slowly and Fraser made a noise and opened his mouth wide, and Ray found himself going for it, legs touching Fraser's knees, Fraser's breath through his nostrils puffing harshly against his skin, getting dizzy as everything else went away.

But this time when they broke free it wasn't over. He staggered and ducked his head and leaned on his hand on the table, getting his bearings. Fraser just sat and looked at him, wiping his mouth.

"That," Ray said.

"Was one. I suppose honor's satisfied now," the guy in the chair with the husky voice started in, blowing up more smokescreen like he'd just realized he was naked.

"Changed things," Ray finished after getting his breath back.

"Well, there's-" Nothing. Fraser was coming up short on the smoke.

"Don't try it. Don't try and fake me this time. Things are different."

"All right," Fraser said slowly, and stood up. Right next to Ray, and god, he was bigger than Ray was used to, but this wasn't a fight. Fraser moved his hand, dropping something onto the table. Ray looked. Cards. The cards he'd been holding in his hand. Crumpled.

"Oh, now that is a waste of a good-"

Then Fraser was up against him kissing him, hands on his back, palms going lower and pulling him in tight, because the game was different now and there was no more bluffing, no more smoke, no more air.