ds_flashfiction | Amnesty fic: Cave-in Challenge

Title: The Night The Bed Fell
Challenge: Amnesty/Cave-In
Author: custardpringle
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 1,468 words
Rating: PG
Notes: For the Cave-In Challenge, with thanks and apologies to James Thurber. But it had to be done. (This isn't that close to the original, but the Thurber story can be found here for the curious.)
Even bigger-than-usual props to the_antichris for getting through the beta in about ten minutes flat because ZOMG DEADLINE.

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It had been a very long day. Two very long days, really, since neither Fraser nor Ray had had the time to sleep since yesterday morning. By the time Ray double-parked his GTO outside the Consulate, it was nearly one in the morning, and Fraser had had to spend the entire trip talking just to keep Ray awake enough to drive safely. Still, he thought grimly, it was a good thing there was so little traffic at that hour.

Even as Fraser reached to open the passenger-side door, he looked over to bid his partner goodnight and saw that Ray had slumped over, forehead resting against the steering wheel and eyes drifting closed. Fraser sighed. "Ray--" he said carefully, and when that got no response-- "Ray!"

It was enough to rouse him, at any rate; Ray raised his head, looked at Fraser blearily for a second, and then shook himself sharply once. A few of the spikes in his hair flopped over into his face. "Sorry, Frase." He waved vaguely. "G'night."

This was the point at which Fraser should, he knew, have gotten out of the car and allowed Ray to continue on his own way home, but he sat there another moment and looked at Ray. He wanted, suddenly and powerfully, to reach out and brush those pieces of hair back into place. The urge brought on a sudden vivid flash of imagination-- Ray pressing sleepily against Fraser's hand, like a cat.

Then again, he wanted a number of things, of which that was only a small representative sample.

In equal concession to his genuine concern and his desire for physical contact, Fraser reached for Ray's hand instead of the door handle, taking away the car keys and stowing them in his own belt. "Ray, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to drive home tonight." Ray shook himself again and grabbed to get them back, but Fraser slapped his hand away. "You can stay in the Consulate tonight. I'm sure Inspector Thatcher won't mind." Which was only because he was hoping the Inspector wouldn't find out, but that didn't need discussion right now.

"So, what, huh?" Ray folded his arms. "Fraser, you already sleep on the floor. What do I get, the desk?" He extended a hand again, wiggling the fingers. "C'mon, gimme the keys. Not like I'm drunk, or anything."

"No, but you are incredibly tired." Fraser ran a thumb over his eyebrow. "And I do have a cot, in any case, to which you are more than welcome for the night. I will be more than satisfied with the bedroll," he added, hastily.

Ray still squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, until the effect was spoiled by an enormous yawn that let Fraser see, rather distractingly, most of the way down his throat. "Fine," he grumbled, letting his outstretched hand fall to gently pat the steering wheel. "But if the Ice Queen gets my car towed, you're paying."

Fraser retrieved his Stetson and opened the door. "Fair enough."

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Some hours later, right around sunrise, Fraser was woken by odd whimpering noises coming from somewhere above his head. "Quiet, Dief," he muttered reprovingly-- and then he remembered that Diefenbaker was staying with Francesca for the night, and sat straight up.

Ray was curled up right at the near edge of the cot, facing the wall. He was muttering something unintelligible and twitching in distress. Fraser knelt up, leaning a little closer, and could just barely make out what Ray was saying: "Oh, fuck-- please, please, fuck--"

It was a nightmare, Fraser told himself firmly. The only other possibility didn't bear thinking about-- and either way, it meant that it was most likely time to cut it off. "Ray," he said sharply, taking hold of the other man's arm and shaking. "Ray, wake up."

"Mmmm." Ray shifted in Fraser's grip, not actually waking up but still instinctively rolling closer-- and, incidentally, off the cot entirely. The entire apparatus, which had only survived until now because Fraser had trained himself to sleep in perfect motionlessness, collapsed a second later with an enormous, rattling crash. Fraser barely rolled out of the way in time to avoid being struck on the head by a piece of the bedframe.

There was a ringing silence for several seconds.

From his new location, pressed down half underneath Fraser, Ray grinned drowsily up at him. "I missing something here, Fraser?"

"Not precisely, no." Fraser tried to shift position against him, then regretted it immediately. "I may have somewhat-- ah, underestimated-- the structural integrity of the cot. Apparently it doesn't respond well to abrupt movement."

"Ya think?" Ray's grin widened, just a bit, and he was opening his mouth to say something else when the door to Fraser's office flew open. They both looked up-- at any rate, Fraser did, propping himself up on his elbows, and Ray tried to tip his head backwards and then gave up.

Inspector Thatcher stared back down at them. She was wearing a rumpled evening gown and stockings, but no shoes, and her eyes were bloodshot; it seemed that Ray had not been the only one in too poor a shape to get home last night. Eventually, she snapped her jaw shut into some semblance of a grim frown. "Constable, what on earth?"

Fraser's eyebrow began to itch, quite badly, but he couldn't afford to lift a hand to scratch it. "I-- well, uh, sir, we were-- I mean, we had a rather late night--"

"You know what, Constable?" The Inspector threw her hands up. "I'm not sure I want to know after all. Just-- just try to avoid making so much noise in future."

It wasn't worth trying to correct her assumptions-- not right now, when it would be so easy to prove her right. "I can pay for the cot, sir," Fraser offered, but the door was already slamming shut behind her.

"Holy shit." Ray's eyes, looking up at him, had gone wide. "Never thought I'd say it, Fraser, but I think I like her better hung over."

Fraser snorted, then caught himself. "I should--" He tried to shift to a less awkward position and only managed to make things worse. "I really should get up." His leg was wedged between Ray's now, and he had a few more seconds at best before he embarrassed himself terribly.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Fraser, I was, uh--" Ray smiled sheepishly. "I was having this dream."

"So I heard," Fraser admitted without thinking, and then closed his eyes. Of all the tactless things to say--

"Oh, hell. I'm sorry," Ray repeated, sounding inexplicably subdued, and Fraser reopened his eyes in time to see Ray turn his head away, cheek pressed against the hardwood. "No wonder you wanna-- just, I'll go home now, okay? And, and, you don't gotta work with me any more, you can--"

"Ray," Fraser interrupted, torn between astonishment and dawning hope. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Fraser, buddy- okay, maybe not so much any more, but still-- don't pull this innocent shit on me now, okay?" Ray blew out an exasperated sigh-- Fraser felt it against his own chest as much as heard it. "I had a wet dream about you, okay, not wet because it never got that far, but you heard anyway and you're pissed. Sure as hell don't blame you."

Fraser blinked down at Ray, stunned. He hadn't thought-- hadn't even dared to imagine-- "Look at me," he managed at last. "Ray, look at me."

It took a long moment, but finally Ray turned back to look up into Fraser's face, and the hollowness of his face felt like a blow to the gut.

Shifting his weight to balance on one hand, Fraser took the other off the ground and-- oh God, finally-- brushed his fingers gently through Ray's hair. "I am feeling many things right now," he said, choosing his words carefully, "but anger is most certainly not one of them."

It was Ray's turn to look shellshocked-- and then he began to smile again, faint and cautious. "You mean that?" he asked, but his hands were already sliding up to clench in the fabric at the small of Fraser's back.

Fraser let himself be pulled down against Ray's body, warm and real underneath him. For a few seconds, he tried to find the right words to answer, but there didn't seem to be any. It was far simpler just to press his lips lightly to the corner of Ray's jaw, resting there for the entire split second before Ray twisted around and brought their mouths together.

A minute later, the wreckage of his cot shuddered and collapsed into even smaller pieces, but neither of them was paying enough attention to care.

END

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From:

sam80853.livejournal.com

Fraser's eyebrow began to itch, quite badly, but he couldn't afford to lift a hand to scratch it.

Oh, that's bad. Really really bad ... ::grins::.

Lovely!