ds_flashfiction | Tease challenge by slidellra

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Title: Tangled
Author:

slidellra
Pairing: F/K pre-slash
Rating: G
Notes: Many thanks to

jamethiel_bane for early beta and to

omphale23 for later beta, and for encouraging me to try for the unheard-of G rating. Roughly 1200 words.

ETA: Now available as audiofic! Please let me know of any difficulties. Right click and save the (zipped) file here.

After cooling his heels for a good thirty, thirty-five seconds on the Consulate steps, Ray glanced around and let himself in. Even Fraser sometimes missed a knock if he was distracted. Last time, he'd said he'd been reading sheet music too loud, and Ray couldn't tell if Fraser'd been messing with him or not.

"Frase?" No signs of life. He headed down the hall towards Fraser's office, only to run into him in the doorway.

"Ray!" Fraser was in his undershirt and suspenders. He looked great, his eyes laughing and his color up.

Ray squinted at him and stepped forward to head into the office. "Not ready yet, huh?"

"No!" Fraser said, hopping sideways to block the doorway. Ray tried to step around him, but he didn't give an inch. "No, of course not. It's just that something came up and I'm afraid I'll have to beg off."

"You get a better offer?" Ray shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled maybe just slightly too much in the not-just-buddies way. Probably, because Fraser sucked in his breath and flushed a little more, but shook his head, smiling.

Ray tilted his head, frowning thoughtfully, and then scowled for real when he heard a small sound from inside the office. "You got somebody in there? That's bad, double-booking your social calendar. That's just not done in polite circles."

"No, believe me, Ray," Fraser insisted, serious now. "There's been an unexpected... unpleasantness, and I'm afraid it'll take most of the evening to remedy."

"I can help. If it's not too gross." Ray craned his neck, trying to see into the room. Didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but it was hard to tell with Fraser bobbing into his line of sight like that. Fraser braced his arms against the sides of the doorway, which was a great look for him but a serious tactical error. Ray faked left then ducked under Fraser's arm. Sucker.

"Ray!" Fraser's hand came down hard on Ray's shoulder, but he barely felt it. He was too busy staring in horror at Fraser's cot.

"Jeeeeez," he hissed.

Dief groaned and hid his eyes under his paw.

"Please, Ray. Dief is feeling rather self-conscious and specifically requested that I prevent you from seeing him like this."

"No kidding. What happened to him?" Ray dropped to his knees next to the cot and reached out one tentative hand. Dief's fur stood out all over, full-bodied and puffy with snarls and braids and mismatched bows stuck on in random spots.

Fraser sighed. "He spent the afternoon with Gladys, and apparently ate so heavily that he fell into a deep slumber, during which time he was treated to a makeover."

"It's crunchy," Ray said, surprised, and Dief groaned again.

"Hairspray, I believe. I haven't had time for a thorough investigation; we've only just returned. Dief insisted on a circuitous route," Fraser sniffed. "Apparently he believes he has an image to uphold."

Ray shook his head. "No, Frase. You can't be hard on the guy. We've all been there." He paused and glanced at Fraser's freakishly perfect coif. "Well, most of us, anyway."

Fraser reached up and patted his hair self-consciously.

Pushing himself back upright, Ray slapped his hands together, saying, "All right. We need something to cover him with to get him out to the Goat. Once we've got him safe at my place we can work on repairs. Sound good, Dief?"

Dief peeked up at Ray dubiously and grumbled.

"We need supplies Frase won't have," Ray explained. "Conditioner, shampoo that won't strip your fur, cable and takeout for mental health."

At that, Dief barked agreement and jumped off the cot, fur rigid and ribbons streaming. Ray turned to glare at Fraser, palm facing him to ward off the usual rebuke. "Do not say it. He's earned some comfort food."

Fraser was fighting a grin again. "I bow to your superior knowledge of the care and treatment of experimental hair."

"Darn straight."

**

They managed to smuggle Dief into Ray's apartment with a minimum of embarrassment for the mutt, although he noisily regretted not being able to beg his usual treats at Din Ho. The three of them settled in on Ray's couch, switched on the TV (Dief must've been hurting, 'cause he didn't want to watch a show on predators --usually a sure thing with him-- and they ended up with something about birds in the desert), and ate most of the grub before setting in on detangling.

It was even worse than Ray had first imagined. Dief's fur had been tortured into lumpy, fluffy spikes and he had ribbons all over, tied in scraggly bows and secured with fierce little knots. When Fraser mused that Gladys's arthritis was surely much improved, in light of her remarkable dexterity in constructing such fine Packer's knots, Ray only avoided bloodshed by popping a whole pork dumpling in Dief's snarling mouth.

Ray had oil and a wide-tooth comb that worked pretty well on the knots, and the braids and other bits too tangly for the comb they gently loosened with their fingers. Dief kept up a stoic silence, mainly, punctuated sometimes with heartsick moans. Fraser couldn't be counted on to shut up with the teasing and healthy living advice, so Ray didn't let him get a word in, instead distracting Dief with embarrassing hair snafus of his past.

By the time they could finally card their fingers through Dief's still crispy fur, the birds had given way to right whales and it was time for a bath.

Dief stood in the tub with an expression of noble suffering while Ray and Fraser soaped him up and rinsed him off. He perked up a bit when Ray gave him the choice between two conditioners, sniffing each carefully and clearly indicating his preference for "Woodsy Fresh" over "Citrus Mint."

Drying him off was a big, messy job requiring every towel Ray owned, but at the end of it they had a Dief who looked like himself and smelled better than usual (though nothing like any woods Fraser'd ever experienced, as he apparently felt obliged to point out).

Dief immediately began pretending the whole incident had never happened and stalked over to make himself comfortable in the easy chair.

Ray and Fraser flopped down on the couch, damp and exhausted; Fraser picking wolf hairs off his pants one by one.

Whatever was on TV now was as boring as everything else that'd been on all night, and Ray really didn't want to get off the couch to drive them back to the Consulate. He slouched down and decided to rest his eyes for a minute. When he woke up, his head was in Fraser's lap and Fraser was gently running his fingers through Ray's own spikes. "No bows," Ray muttered and rolled onto his side, pillowing his head against Fraser's thigh.

Fraser's fingers paused, hesitating before he agreed, "No bows."

***