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ds_flashfictionRays. Cheating. Mounties were injured in the production of this story.
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brooklinegirl betaed an early version of this story and provided helpful feedback. china_shop betaed the final version.
I've got the bruises to prove it.
Five Stages of Grief
1. January
Ray didn't call it cheating the first time it happened. Cheating implied that there was some kind of reason behind what they'd done, some kind of intent. Like he'd gone out to screw around on Fraser.
And it wasn't like that. There'd been another fight with Fraser, yeah, and then too many drinks. And Vecchio looking relaxed in the dim light of the bar, tie loose and eyes shining, telling undercover stories and stupid jokes, and always laughing too soon, before he'd even gotten to his own punchline.
But when he followed Vecchio out to his car that night, it was just to make sure he wasn't too drunk to drive. How he got from asking Vecchio to walk a straight line, to Vecchio grabbing him and shoving him up against Vecchio's car, to shoving his tongue down Vecchio's throat – well, he still wasn't clear about that particular sequence of events. Or how he found himself two seconds later in the back of Vecchio's car, Vecchio's mouth on his cock, or later, with his hand down Vecchio's pants and Vecchio's mouth pressed hard against his shoulder as he came.
It just happened, he told himself.
It just happened.
2. Late February
"This isn't gonna to happen again," Ray said. This was crazy. Things were getting way out of hand.
Vecchio reached for him but Ray shrugged him off and rolled out of the hard hotel bed, reaching for his clothes.
"We'll just say we got a flat tire," Ray said, pulling on his pants.
"Kowalski…"
Ray sorted through the clothes tossed over the end of the bed and found his shirt. "We got a flat tire and – and the spare was flat, too."
Vecchio was shaking his head as he got out of bed.
"And we forgot our cell phones when we walked down to the gas station." He sat down on a chair to put on his socks.
"That's dumb, Kowalski – that's the dumbest alibi I ever heard." Vecchio intercepted his hand when he reached for his sweater, grabbed it and held on tightly. "Look, if you want to stop—"
"Shut up. Just shut up, shut up, shut up," and Ray was on him, shoving him up against the wall and kissing him.
3. Early April
"We should stop." Ray tried to sound firm but his voice wavered at the last moment. He cleared his throat. "We should stop," he repeated.
Vecchio didn't say anything but he didn't look surprised. He took a sip of his coffee and fiddled with his napkin. "Is that what you want?" he asked.
It was what he needed to do, Ray thought. He would stop – whatever the fuck this was with Vecchio – and things would fall into their rightful places again. His life would make sense again. He would give this up and then he could look Fraser in the eye without flinching anymore.
"Look, it's just – I mean, this is crazy, right? You and me – it doesn't add up. You're – come on, Vecchio, you're not queer, and I'm, I'm in love with Fraser, and – well, it's nuts. I mean, it's crazy; it's fucking crazy, Vecchio. It's not like we're in love with each other or anything like that, right?"
And Vecchio turned his head, and looked straight into his eyes, and Ray felt his mouth go dry.
4. May
It was three a.m. and there was no way Fraser was gonna buy he was working late (again) or helping out with Frannie's kids (again) or playing cards with the guys (again).
Vecchio was awake, lying next to him. Their hotel, their room, their bed. Vecchio held him tight. "What do you tell him?"
Ray closed his eyes. He shivered when he felt Vecchio's kiss on the back of his neck, and sighed. "Nothing. I don't tell him anything," Ray finally said in a low voice. He pushed Vecchio's arms away and rolled away from him. "He doesn't need me to tell him anything. He already knows."
5. Early June
He showed up at Vecchio's door with a six-pack of beer and his duffle. Vecchio didn't ask any questions. He just let him in, emptied a drawer in the dresser in the bedroom, and took the beer to the refrigerator while Ray unpacked. When Ray finished putting his stuff away he followed Vecchio into the kitchen and stood leaning in the doorway, watching Vecchio slide two steaks into the pan.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm probably gonna hate you for a while, you know."
"Yeah, I know." Vecchio said, leaving the steaks and coming close. He put a hand on Ray’s arm. "I can live with that."
brooklinegirl betaed an early version of this story and provided helpful feedback. china_shop betaed the final version. I've got the bruises to prove it.
Five Stages of Grief
1. January
Ray didn't call it cheating the first time it happened. Cheating implied that there was some kind of reason behind what they'd done, some kind of intent. Like he'd gone out to screw around on Fraser.
And it wasn't like that. There'd been another fight with Fraser, yeah, and then too many drinks. And Vecchio looking relaxed in the dim light of the bar, tie loose and eyes shining, telling undercover stories and stupid jokes, and always laughing too soon, before he'd even gotten to his own punchline.
But when he followed Vecchio out to his car that night, it was just to make sure he wasn't too drunk to drive. How he got from asking Vecchio to walk a straight line, to Vecchio grabbing him and shoving him up against Vecchio's car, to shoving his tongue down Vecchio's throat – well, he still wasn't clear about that particular sequence of events. Or how he found himself two seconds later in the back of Vecchio's car, Vecchio's mouth on his cock, or later, with his hand down Vecchio's pants and Vecchio's mouth pressed hard against his shoulder as he came.
It just happened, he told himself.
It just happened.
2. Late February
"This isn't gonna to happen again," Ray said. This was crazy. Things were getting way out of hand.
Vecchio reached for him but Ray shrugged him off and rolled out of the hard hotel bed, reaching for his clothes.
"We'll just say we got a flat tire," Ray said, pulling on his pants.
"Kowalski…"
Ray sorted through the clothes tossed over the end of the bed and found his shirt. "We got a flat tire and – and the spare was flat, too."
Vecchio was shaking his head as he got out of bed.
"And we forgot our cell phones when we walked down to the gas station." He sat down on a chair to put on his socks.
"That's dumb, Kowalski – that's the dumbest alibi I ever heard." Vecchio intercepted his hand when he reached for his sweater, grabbed it and held on tightly. "Look, if you want to stop—"
"Shut up. Just shut up, shut up, shut up," and Ray was on him, shoving him up against the wall and kissing him.
3. Early April
"We should stop." Ray tried to sound firm but his voice wavered at the last moment. He cleared his throat. "We should stop," he repeated.
Vecchio didn't say anything but he didn't look surprised. He took a sip of his coffee and fiddled with his napkin. "Is that what you want?" he asked.
It was what he needed to do, Ray thought. He would stop – whatever the fuck this was with Vecchio – and things would fall into their rightful places again. His life would make sense again. He would give this up and then he could look Fraser in the eye without flinching anymore.
"Look, it's just – I mean, this is crazy, right? You and me – it doesn't add up. You're – come on, Vecchio, you're not queer, and I'm, I'm in love with Fraser, and – well, it's nuts. I mean, it's crazy; it's fucking crazy, Vecchio. It's not like we're in love with each other or anything like that, right?"
And Vecchio turned his head, and looked straight into his eyes, and Ray felt his mouth go dry.
4. May
It was three a.m. and there was no way Fraser was gonna buy he was working late (again) or helping out with Frannie's kids (again) or playing cards with the guys (again).
Vecchio was awake, lying next to him. Their hotel, their room, their bed. Vecchio held him tight. "What do you tell him?"
Ray closed his eyes. He shivered when he felt Vecchio's kiss on the back of his neck, and sighed. "Nothing. I don't tell him anything," Ray finally said in a low voice. He pushed Vecchio's arms away and rolled away from him. "He doesn't need me to tell him anything. He already knows."
5. Early June
He showed up at Vecchio's door with a six-pack of beer and his duffle. Vecchio didn't ask any questions. He just let him in, emptied a drawer in the dresser in the bedroom, and took the beer to the refrigerator while Ray unpacked. When Ray finished putting his stuff away he followed Vecchio into the kitchen and stood leaning in the doorway, watching Vecchio slide two steaks into the pan.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm probably gonna hate you for a while, you know."
"Yeah, I know." Vecchio said, leaving the steaks and coming close. He put a hand on Ray’s arm. "I can live with that."
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*double sniff*
Date: 2006-08-22 06:14 pm (UTC)'cos i read some of the other comments and they seemed to think Fraser had kicked him out.. but i just couldnt see that happening. i think fraser would have - oh i dunno! it hurts to much to think!!
or is it open to interpretation??
and also... you don't happen to know how to make icons do you? just there's so many great ones on lj and i wanna have a go myself but dunno where to start... any help/advice would be much appreciated!!
thank you kindly!
Re: *double sniff*
Date: 2006-08-23 12:31 am (UTC)And yes, it certainly wasn't explicit and very open to interpretation from that aspect. For me as the writer, I was writing from the point of view that Fraser finally took the action needed to end the deception by asking Ray to leave. From the point of view that Ray was incapable of taking that final step. But it is equally true that Ray left Fraser long before he moved out -- his allegiance had already shifted, even if he couldn't make himself tell Fraser.
In the end, I think Fraser is more capable of demanding honesty and living with pain -- which is why I can see him saying "enough is enough" -- he knows Ray is cheating, he's waited for Ray to end it honorably (either with him or with the lover) and Ray has demonstrated he won't take action. I can see Ray being much more able to deceive himself into believing that if he and Fraser don't actually talk about it, it isn't as bad as leaving.
I don't know how to make icons -- I suck at icons, in fact. I can crop an image on Paint and that's about it. You might check out
Also, all of my icons came from such posts and are sharable with credit. Feel free to check out my user pictures (go here (http://www.livejournal.com/allpics.bml?user=aerye)) and take what you like -- just remember to credit the creator (which I usually put in keywords). Unfortunately, I only have a couple F/K -- I'm on the lookout for more myself.