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spainja
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: F/K
Length: 2300 words
Prompt: 58. F/K "Where did all these ducks come from?”
A million thanks toisiscolo for an amazing beta job.
Well, That’s Just Ducky
“Hey, Fraser?” Ray called as he finished the last few strokes next to his ear. He put the razor back onto the sink and tilted his head to make sure his sideburns were even.
“Yes, Ray?” came the answer from the bedroom. When he angled the mirror, Ray could see Fraser sitting on the edge of Maggie’s guest bed, sorting their freshly-washed laundry into piles of “clean”, “could stand to go through the wash again”, and “should probably be burnt.”
“Where did all these ducks come from?” Ray grabbed some of Fraser’s piney-smelling lotion and began rubbing it into his skin to keep it from itching. Man, it felt weird to be clean-shaven again. His cheeks and chin were about three shades lighter than the rest of his wind-chapped face.
Fraser looked up from a pair of rather traumatized-looking long johns. His face was sporting a two-toned look, as well. “The ducks?”
Ray turned to face into the bedroom and gestured widely. “Yes, Fraser, the ducks. You telling me you haven’t noticed the duck…ah…motif your sister’s got going here? They’re everywhere!” His gesture took in the bed (quilt and pillows embroidered with flying ducks), the mirror (etched with a pair of nesting wood ducks), and the area rug next to the bed (ducklings at play).
“Ah, yes, the ducks.” Fraser studied the mallard-adorned curtains for a second before going back to rolling socks into balls. “It seems to be a collection, of sorts.”
“Huh.” Ray grabbed the brush that was next to the duck-shaped soap dish and began attacking his too-long hair. What he wouldn’t give for some gel. “That’s kinda queer.”
It was, too. A duck collection? It just seemed so…cheesy. Ray didn’t really see Maggie as the duck-collecting type.
Of course, now that he thought about, he really didn’t know Maggie that well at all. In his head he usually just pictured her as the female version of Fraser—honest and upright and proper and polite, able to survive for days in the arctic wilderness with just a paper bag, a rope, and some pemmican. But in the last 24 hours she had surprised him. Last night she’d plopped down next to Ray on the sofa, popped open a couple of Molsons (one for her, one for him) and watched some weird Canadian game show. He was pretty sure he had overheard her swearing (real swears, not fake Fraser-swears) at a particularly stubborn sled dog yesterday. And she lived in an actual house, with actual central heating, indoor plumbing, and cable. And, apparently, a hell of a lot of ducks.
So maybe the duck thing wasn’t so far out of character for her. Still, it felt a little weird.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Ray.” Uh oh. Apparently Fraser had taken Ray’s comment as some sort of slam on his kin. His back had gone straight, and his voice had taken on a decidedly snippy tone. “Collecting objects of a similar design theme is quite a common hobby. My grandmother, for instance, while otherwise a woman of…pragmatic tastes, nevertheless had quite the predilection for decorative objects—knickknacks, if you will—with Oriental designs. A holdover from her missionary days I suppose. I don’t find my sister’s interest in ducks to be ‘weird’ at all.”
“Chill out, Fraser, that’s not what I meant. I know all about people’s…um, unique collections. My Aunt Inez had a kitchen full of cow stuff…potholders, bowls, clocks. Those plates I have used to be hers.” Ray fished his long-neglected deodorant out of the shaving kit and made a quick pass under each arm. “Hell, even Stella had a thing for porcelain clowns for a while in high school. The whatzitcalled…Holly Quinn ones. Creepy as hell. Used to freak me out like crazy—waking up a shelf of those things staring at me.” He shivered a little, partially at the memory, partially because he was still shirtless and it was about 58 degrees in Maggie’s house.
There was a pause, and then Fraser said, “Well. There you are, then.” And he reapplied himself to his folding with vigor.
Ray silently cursed himself. If there was one thing he’d actually learned from his relationship with Fraser—aside from that swirly-sucking tongue maneuver, which was really really cool—it was that nothing dampened Fraser’s ardor faster than references to his prior sex life with the ex-wife. Stupid jealous Mountie bastard.
And the thing was, Ray had been counting on Fraser’s ardor being back to normal today. That’s not to say that it had been lacking during the past three weeks; there was nothing like being the only human beings for hundreds of miles to let you get to know another person. Inhibitions and fears that Ray hadn’t even realized he was still clinging to had just melted away when it was just the two of them. And Fraser—God, it was like a whole new side of him just came alive in this big wide cold empty land. Ray carried plenty of fond memories of the two of them, breathing heat into each other’s mouths, pressed tightly together in their shared sleeping bag.
The problem was, the subzero temperatures and ninety-two required layers of clothing and the rather cramped interior of the tent had severely limited their romantic activities. Anything more athletic than handjobs was out. Not that Ray had any complaints about Fraser’s handjobs, mind you--the guy could do wonders with a flick of his wrist and just the right amount of pressure. It was just that Ray knew that Fraser had a whole other host of talents that required a little more space and a lot less clothing, and he was eager to reacquaint himself with said talents as soon as possible. But up until now, they just hadn’t been able to get it going.
They had gotten into town two nights ago well after—well, the funky daylight up here had played havoc with Ray’s internal clock, and his watch had stopped working right after hitting a snow field at terminal velocity. At any rate, they had gotten in really late, and had held onto consciousness just long enough to exchange mostly coherent pleasantries with Maggie and topple into bed. Yesterday had been spent hanging out with Maggie and reacclimating themselves to the wonders of civilization. (Hot water! Other humans! Bagels! Magic box of sound and light that shows hockey games!)
But now that they were clean and rested and had an actual, honest-to-God full sized bed, Ray was getting a little twitchy. Up until now, Fraser had seemed a little reluctant to do anything more intimate in Maggie’s house than snuggling close at night and stealing a few kisses. It was a little jarring after three weeks of Uninhibited Fraser, but Ray reminded himself that in the real world, Fraser was very much not into the PDA. Having his sister sleeping in the next room probably wasn’t helping any. And Fraser seemed oddly stiff and formal around Maggie. Of course, he didn’t know her that well, either—hell, he hadn’t even know she existed until about 4 months ago—but Ray wondered if maybe Fraser also had some lingering awkwardness about having once had a Skywalker-like inappropriate crush on Maggie. At any rate, Fraser did not seem keen on any suggestion of sex in proximity to his sister. And honestly, Ray couldn’t blame him.
But Maggie was working the day shift today, and they had the whole house to themselves. If he could distract Fraser from the mention of Stella, maybe he could get his plans back on track. They were both freshly showered and shaven, surrounded by central heating and with a big soft bed not five feet away, and all alone for six hours. Ray figured that now was the perfect time to remind themselves that there was more to sex than cold, cramped handjobs.
Besides, the weeks of dragging himself through what felt like half of the Canadian Arctic had built up some new muscles in interesting spots, and Ray was getting eager to take them for a test ride. He wasn’t the only one; the view from behind as Fraser bent to pick up the laundry basket was even more…inspiring than usual. Especially now, through just one layer of clothing.
Fraser looked back and Ray deliberately moved his gaze from Fraser’s ass to Fraser’s eyes. Fraser raised an eyebrow. His expression didn’t change, but there was a definite glint in his eye. Oh, yeah, that was a good sign. . “It’s just that ducks…I figured she’d pick something with a little more, um, local color. Why not moose, or walruses, or ptarmi—ptarma--polar bears?” Ray shifted a bit to lean against the doorway, letting his shirt hang open and a lazy grin spread across his face. “…Or, you know, penguins?’ he added, just to be a bit of a bastard.
Fraser set the basket on the armchair in the corner and turned to face Ray. “On the contrary, there are several species of duck that migrate to this area in the warmer months.” The glint in his eyes got even glintier as his voice took on just the right note of Mountie prissiness. “And as I’ve told you on too many occasions now, penguins are not native to this area. One would think that after three months of acclimatization, you would have become more observant of the surroundings. Or at least have learned to retain what I tell you for longer than five minutes.”
Oh, yeah. This was more like it. “Yeah, well, you know me, Fraser. Mind like a steel sieve.” This back-and-forth, teasing, letting the burn build up nice and slow with words before finally bringing their bodies into it…this was Ray’s favorite part of him and Fraser. And besides, it was just so much damn fun watching Fraser slowly morph from prim and proper to teasing and smoldering.
Fraser plucked a couple of not-quite-dry socks off the top of the clean pile and headed towards the bathroom. Ray stayed where he was in the doorway, forcing Fraser to press his body against Ray’s on his way in. The momentary warm press of firm muscle sent shockwaves all the way down to Ray’s toes, and he didn’t think that he was imagining that Fraser slowed down a little as he passed. Ray held in the urge to just push Fraser against the wall and get the party started, now. They had plenty of time. Better to let it build some more.
Instead, Ray remained slouched against the door as Fraser pushed aside the duck-adorned shower curtain and hung the socks on the shower rod to dry. “I will admit, though,” Fraser said, as he picked something up from the tub rim and examined it. “There are rather a lot of ducks in here.” As he turned, Ray could see that Fraser was holding Maggie’s rubber ducky, the one that had grinned rather unnervingly at Ray during his earlier shower.
“That’s what I’ve been saying, buddy,” Ray said. He caught the ducky as Fraser tossed it to him, stepped back into the bedroom and executed a neat behind-the-back pass, which Fraser caught easily.
“You can’t deny that this one is rather cute, though.” Fraser held the duck about six inches from Ray’s face, as if inviting Ray to fully take in its cuteness. Or possibly to kiss it.
Fraser was weird, sometimes.
“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘cute’?” Ray was having a hard time keeping his straight face.
“Yes, Ray. Cute. Don’t you think?” Fraser held the ducky towards Ray and squeezed it. Ray braced himself for the squeak.
Instead, the ducky began to buzz.
In retrospect, Ray supposed, it was almost comical. The moment seemed to drag out for hours. He and Fraser, standing frozen in the middle of Maggie’s duck-festooned guest room, staring helplessly at the smiling yellow ducky cheerfully vibrating between them.
Ray watched a whole flock of emotions slowly transform Fraser’s face—smugness gave way to shock, followed by confusion, then dawning comprehension followed swiftly by growing horror and barely suppressed panic. Ray could almost see Fraser’s thoughts written in his eyes. Oh my God, how do I get this thing as far away from me as possible?
Ray felt hysterical laughter bubbling up behind his lips. It was a valid question: where is the proper place to put your sister’s vibrating ducky?
“This is not funny,” Fraser snapped, his eyes darting around the room frantically. He was obviously making a supreme effort to not actually throw the buzzing little yellow menace as far across the room as possible.
Oh, yes it was. Ray couldn’t keep the giggles in any longer, and he sunk into the pile of semi-clean clothes on the bed. Oh, God, the universe hated him. All he could think of as hysteria overcame him was Where the hell did Maggie get that thing?
Ray was confronted with a sudden mental image of Maggie actually using the evil ducky.
Ray wondered if Fraser had pictured the same thing.
Ray realized that there was now no chance in hell of getting laid within ten miles of Maggie, this room, or any ducks.
Ray figured that he was screwed. Or not. Goddammit.
Ray tried to imagine explaining to Maggie why he and Fraser needed to spend the rest of their visit someplace other than her duck-infested guest room.
Ray wondered if Inuvik had a hotel nearby.
And just in case you’re curious, here’s Maggie’s favorite bath toy.
spainjaRating: PG-13
Pairing: F/K
Length: 2300 words
Prompt: 58. F/K "Where did all these ducks come from?”
A million thanks to
isiscolo for an amazing beta job.Well, That’s Just Ducky
“Hey, Fraser?” Ray called as he finished the last few strokes next to his ear. He put the razor back onto the sink and tilted his head to make sure his sideburns were even.
“Yes, Ray?” came the answer from the bedroom. When he angled the mirror, Ray could see Fraser sitting on the edge of Maggie’s guest bed, sorting their freshly-washed laundry into piles of “clean”, “could stand to go through the wash again”, and “should probably be burnt.”
“Where did all these ducks come from?” Ray grabbed some of Fraser’s piney-smelling lotion and began rubbing it into his skin to keep it from itching. Man, it felt weird to be clean-shaven again. His cheeks and chin were about three shades lighter than the rest of his wind-chapped face.
Fraser looked up from a pair of rather traumatized-looking long johns. His face was sporting a two-toned look, as well. “The ducks?”
Ray turned to face into the bedroom and gestured widely. “Yes, Fraser, the ducks. You telling me you haven’t noticed the duck…ah…motif your sister’s got going here? They’re everywhere!” His gesture took in the bed (quilt and pillows embroidered with flying ducks), the mirror (etched with a pair of nesting wood ducks), and the area rug next to the bed (ducklings at play).
“Ah, yes, the ducks.” Fraser studied the mallard-adorned curtains for a second before going back to rolling socks into balls. “It seems to be a collection, of sorts.”
“Huh.” Ray grabbed the brush that was next to the duck-shaped soap dish and began attacking his too-long hair. What he wouldn’t give for some gel. “That’s kinda queer.”
It was, too. A duck collection? It just seemed so…cheesy. Ray didn’t really see Maggie as the duck-collecting type.
Of course, now that he thought about, he really didn’t know Maggie that well at all. In his head he usually just pictured her as the female version of Fraser—honest and upright and proper and polite, able to survive for days in the arctic wilderness with just a paper bag, a rope, and some pemmican. But in the last 24 hours she had surprised him. Last night she’d plopped down next to Ray on the sofa, popped open a couple of Molsons (one for her, one for him) and watched some weird Canadian game show. He was pretty sure he had overheard her swearing (real swears, not fake Fraser-swears) at a particularly stubborn sled dog yesterday. And she lived in an actual house, with actual central heating, indoor plumbing, and cable. And, apparently, a hell of a lot of ducks.
So maybe the duck thing wasn’t so far out of character for her. Still, it felt a little weird.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Ray.” Uh oh. Apparently Fraser had taken Ray’s comment as some sort of slam on his kin. His back had gone straight, and his voice had taken on a decidedly snippy tone. “Collecting objects of a similar design theme is quite a common hobby. My grandmother, for instance, while otherwise a woman of…pragmatic tastes, nevertheless had quite the predilection for decorative objects—knickknacks, if you will—with Oriental designs. A holdover from her missionary days I suppose. I don’t find my sister’s interest in ducks to be ‘weird’ at all.”
“Chill out, Fraser, that’s not what I meant. I know all about people’s…um, unique collections. My Aunt Inez had a kitchen full of cow stuff…potholders, bowls, clocks. Those plates I have used to be hers.” Ray fished his long-neglected deodorant out of the shaving kit and made a quick pass under each arm. “Hell, even Stella had a thing for porcelain clowns for a while in high school. The whatzitcalled…Holly Quinn ones. Creepy as hell. Used to freak me out like crazy—waking up a shelf of those things staring at me.” He shivered a little, partially at the memory, partially because he was still shirtless and it was about 58 degrees in Maggie’s house.
There was a pause, and then Fraser said, “Well. There you are, then.” And he reapplied himself to his folding with vigor.
Ray silently cursed himself. If there was one thing he’d actually learned from his relationship with Fraser—aside from that swirly-sucking tongue maneuver, which was really really cool—it was that nothing dampened Fraser’s ardor faster than references to his prior sex life with the ex-wife. Stupid jealous Mountie bastard.
And the thing was, Ray had been counting on Fraser’s ardor being back to normal today. That’s not to say that it had been lacking during the past three weeks; there was nothing like being the only human beings for hundreds of miles to let you get to know another person. Inhibitions and fears that Ray hadn’t even realized he was still clinging to had just melted away when it was just the two of them. And Fraser—God, it was like a whole new side of him just came alive in this big wide cold empty land. Ray carried plenty of fond memories of the two of them, breathing heat into each other’s mouths, pressed tightly together in their shared sleeping bag.
The problem was, the subzero temperatures and ninety-two required layers of clothing and the rather cramped interior of the tent had severely limited their romantic activities. Anything more athletic than handjobs was out. Not that Ray had any complaints about Fraser’s handjobs, mind you--the guy could do wonders with a flick of his wrist and just the right amount of pressure. It was just that Ray knew that Fraser had a whole other host of talents that required a little more space and a lot less clothing, and he was eager to reacquaint himself with said talents as soon as possible. But up until now, they just hadn’t been able to get it going.
They had gotten into town two nights ago well after—well, the funky daylight up here had played havoc with Ray’s internal clock, and his watch had stopped working right after hitting a snow field at terminal velocity. At any rate, they had gotten in really late, and had held onto consciousness just long enough to exchange mostly coherent pleasantries with Maggie and topple into bed. Yesterday had been spent hanging out with Maggie and reacclimating themselves to the wonders of civilization. (Hot water! Other humans! Bagels! Magic box of sound and light that shows hockey games!)
But now that they were clean and rested and had an actual, honest-to-God full sized bed, Ray was getting a little twitchy. Up until now, Fraser had seemed a little reluctant to do anything more intimate in Maggie’s house than snuggling close at night and stealing a few kisses. It was a little jarring after three weeks of Uninhibited Fraser, but Ray reminded himself that in the real world, Fraser was very much not into the PDA. Having his sister sleeping in the next room probably wasn’t helping any. And Fraser seemed oddly stiff and formal around Maggie. Of course, he didn’t know her that well, either—hell, he hadn’t even know she existed until about 4 months ago—but Ray wondered if maybe Fraser also had some lingering awkwardness about having once had a Skywalker-like inappropriate crush on Maggie. At any rate, Fraser did not seem keen on any suggestion of sex in proximity to his sister. And honestly, Ray couldn’t blame him.
But Maggie was working the day shift today, and they had the whole house to themselves. If he could distract Fraser from the mention of Stella, maybe he could get his plans back on track. They were both freshly showered and shaven, surrounded by central heating and with a big soft bed not five feet away, and all alone for six hours. Ray figured that now was the perfect time to remind themselves that there was more to sex than cold, cramped handjobs.
Besides, the weeks of dragging himself through what felt like half of the Canadian Arctic had built up some new muscles in interesting spots, and Ray was getting eager to take them for a test ride. He wasn’t the only one; the view from behind as Fraser bent to pick up the laundry basket was even more…inspiring than usual. Especially now, through just one layer of clothing.
Fraser looked back and Ray deliberately moved his gaze from Fraser’s ass to Fraser’s eyes. Fraser raised an eyebrow. His expression didn’t change, but there was a definite glint in his eye. Oh, yeah, that was a good sign. . “It’s just that ducks…I figured she’d pick something with a little more, um, local color. Why not moose, or walruses, or ptarmi—ptarma--polar bears?” Ray shifted a bit to lean against the doorway, letting his shirt hang open and a lazy grin spread across his face. “…Or, you know, penguins?’ he added, just to be a bit of a bastard.
Fraser set the basket on the armchair in the corner and turned to face Ray. “On the contrary, there are several species of duck that migrate to this area in the warmer months.” The glint in his eyes got even glintier as his voice took on just the right note of Mountie prissiness. “And as I’ve told you on too many occasions now, penguins are not native to this area. One would think that after three months of acclimatization, you would have become more observant of the surroundings. Or at least have learned to retain what I tell you for longer than five minutes.”
Oh, yeah. This was more like it. “Yeah, well, you know me, Fraser. Mind like a steel sieve.” This back-and-forth, teasing, letting the burn build up nice and slow with words before finally bringing their bodies into it…this was Ray’s favorite part of him and Fraser. And besides, it was just so much damn fun watching Fraser slowly morph from prim and proper to teasing and smoldering.
Fraser plucked a couple of not-quite-dry socks off the top of the clean pile and headed towards the bathroom. Ray stayed where he was in the doorway, forcing Fraser to press his body against Ray’s on his way in. The momentary warm press of firm muscle sent shockwaves all the way down to Ray’s toes, and he didn’t think that he was imagining that Fraser slowed down a little as he passed. Ray held in the urge to just push Fraser against the wall and get the party started, now. They had plenty of time. Better to let it build some more.
Instead, Ray remained slouched against the door as Fraser pushed aside the duck-adorned shower curtain and hung the socks on the shower rod to dry. “I will admit, though,” Fraser said, as he picked something up from the tub rim and examined it. “There are rather a lot of ducks in here.” As he turned, Ray could see that Fraser was holding Maggie’s rubber ducky, the one that had grinned rather unnervingly at Ray during his earlier shower.
“That’s what I’ve been saying, buddy,” Ray said. He caught the ducky as Fraser tossed it to him, stepped back into the bedroom and executed a neat behind-the-back pass, which Fraser caught easily.
“You can’t deny that this one is rather cute, though.” Fraser held the duck about six inches from Ray’s face, as if inviting Ray to fully take in its cuteness. Or possibly to kiss it.
Fraser was weird, sometimes.
“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘cute’?” Ray was having a hard time keeping his straight face.
“Yes, Ray. Cute. Don’t you think?” Fraser held the ducky towards Ray and squeezed it. Ray braced himself for the squeak.
Instead, the ducky began to buzz.
In retrospect, Ray supposed, it was almost comical. The moment seemed to drag out for hours. He and Fraser, standing frozen in the middle of Maggie’s duck-festooned guest room, staring helplessly at the smiling yellow ducky cheerfully vibrating between them.
Ray watched a whole flock of emotions slowly transform Fraser’s face—smugness gave way to shock, followed by confusion, then dawning comprehension followed swiftly by growing horror and barely suppressed panic. Ray could almost see Fraser’s thoughts written in his eyes. Oh my God, how do I get this thing as far away from me as possible?
Ray felt hysterical laughter bubbling up behind his lips. It was a valid question: where is the proper place to put your sister’s vibrating ducky?
“This is not funny,” Fraser snapped, his eyes darting around the room frantically. He was obviously making a supreme effort to not actually throw the buzzing little yellow menace as far across the room as possible.
Oh, yes it was. Ray couldn’t keep the giggles in any longer, and he sunk into the pile of semi-clean clothes on the bed. Oh, God, the universe hated him. All he could think of as hysteria overcame him was Where the hell did Maggie get that thing?
Ray was confronted with a sudden mental image of Maggie actually using the evil ducky.
Ray wondered if Fraser had pictured the same thing.
Ray realized that there was now no chance in hell of getting laid within ten miles of Maggie, this room, or any ducks.
Ray figured that he was screwed. Or not. Goddammit.
Ray tried to imagine explaining to Maggie why he and Fraser needed to spend the rest of their visit someplace other than her duck-infested guest room.
Ray wondered if Inuvik had a hotel nearby.
And just in case you’re curious, here’s Maggie’s favorite bath toy.
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