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ds_flashfictionTitle: Conflict Resolution Strategies
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG
Notes: First line from "A Question of Faith" by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thefourthvine (aka littera_abactor). Many thanks to mondschein1 for a helpful beta. 900 words, give or take.
Fraser took a deep breath as Ray came into the room. Then he choked and covered his nose with his hand. "Ray, I don't wish to be rude, but what is--?"
Ray flopped down in the visitor's chair and put his feet up on the desk. Small clumps of dark matter fell wetly from his soles onto the desk surface, and Fraser hastily moved his paperwork out of the way.
"What's what, Fraser? The smell?" Ray lifted an arm and took a deep whiff of his armpit, then bared his teeth in Fraser's direction. "No clue, Fraser. Identification of weird-ass crap is your job, not mine. I'm just the one with the badge and the gun and the driving skills. And the legal authority. I leave anything out, Fraser?"
Fraser folded his hands on the desk and regarded Ray. "Are you upset about something?"
"Now why would you think that, Fraser?"
"Well," he began. "Your body language is both defensive and aggressive, even for you. You've used my name four times since you arrived, in a tone which I've frequently found to indicate--"
"Let me rephrase, Fraser. Why would I be upset?"
He considered the question. He hadn't missed an appointment with Ray. They hadn't argued when last together. In fact, it had been an extremely pleasant evening. And morning. He inspected Ray more closely, looking for an answer. The odiferous substance on his shoes and Fraser's desk appeared to be primarily decomposing vegetable matter, although precisely what vegetation he couldn't yet tell. Ray's clothing was perhaps slightly more rumpled than usual. His hair was still upright, only slightly sweat-wilted around his edges. There were faint marks on his cheek and neck that were most likely the result of scratching by human fingernails. On his right wrist and corresponding shirt cuff were traces of a distinctive shade of mauve, forming a bite pattern on the fabric.
He'd seen that shade just the day before. Fraser's heart sank. "Maude?"
"Maude," Ray confirmed.
"I thought I'd made her understand the foolhardiness of her campaign. That Mr. Smith-Smythe's treatment of her, while wrong, was in no way illegal, but her attempt at retribution was. She assured us she wouldn't be returning."
"And, oddly enough, the chick we caught committing a crime yesterday did not actually keep her word. Said chick actually committed further acts of vandalism and stalking, adding to extensive criminal record--"
"--I wasn't aware of her criminal record--"
"--which we'd have known about if you'd let me bring her in. Then she'd've been booked and we'd have found out that she's trouble. And things might have stopped right there, Fraser, instead of what they did do. Which was not stop."
"Is Mr. Smith-Smythe all right?"
"The schmuck's fine. Yelling his head off, threatening to sue the force, but it's just property damage. She got a truck to dump this all over his store. And stood in the middle of it yelling about him screwing around on her."
"She clearly needs help."
Rolling his eyes, Ray replied, "Yeah, Fraser. Stalker lady needs help. And what she doesn't need is a resisting arrest and assault charge." He shook his wrist in the air, the lipstick print plain to see. "That she wouldn't have had if we brought her in all nice and easy yesterday."
Fraser began to object, but Ray barreled on, "You do not think before you speak, Fraser. You do not consider consequences. There are consequences, Fraser. There are consequences all over my shoes and some of it's in my car and some of it's on your desk."
"While I certainly didn't anticipate this outcome--"
Ray balled his hands into fists and growled through his clenched teeth. It was a remarkably intimidating display.
Speaking very slowly, Ray said, "You didn't anticipate it because you think nice thoughts. You didn't anticipate it because you're this badass detective except when you gotta figure for human nature. Getting a perp to say 'I'm sorry' and getting a vic not to press charges is very nice and officer friendly of you, but it's bad cop work."
Fraser studied his hands, silently disagreeing. It shouldn't be necessary to arrest every malfeasant. He hadn't arrested Willie, and now Willie was thriving. Community policing meant more than uniforms on the street, it meant police participating in the community, making decisions. But Ray was watching him, and Ray deserved an answer. He lifted his chin. "I misinterpreted the situation. I apologize."
They sat together for several minutes, Fraser replaying the events of the day before and attempting to isolate how he'd gone wrong, and Ray glowering at Fraser's desk. Finally, Ray rolled his shoulders, releasing tension, and said, "So, I really reek that bad?"
Smiling despite himself, Fraser replied, "You put the interior of a rotting caribou carcass to shame, Ray."
"And it's on your desk?"
"And my guest chair and the floor, yes."
"Good." Ray hauled himself to his feet. "So I'm done for the day. They didn't want me around the bullpen for some reason."
Fraser nodded. He himself wasn't off duty for several hours, and didn't want to presume...
"You'll come by after?" Ray sounded remarkably casual. "After you go visit Maude?"
"Yes. If you're still... Yes."
"Cool." Ray walked around the desk and gave Fraser a brief, smelly kiss. "Later, then."
"Later, Ray."
*
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG
Notes: First line from "A Question of Faith" by
thefourthvine (aka littera_abactor). Many thanks to mondschein1 for a helpful beta. 900 words, give or take.Fraser took a deep breath as Ray came into the room. Then he choked and covered his nose with his hand. "Ray, I don't wish to be rude, but what is--?"
Ray flopped down in the visitor's chair and put his feet up on the desk. Small clumps of dark matter fell wetly from his soles onto the desk surface, and Fraser hastily moved his paperwork out of the way.
"What's what, Fraser? The smell?" Ray lifted an arm and took a deep whiff of his armpit, then bared his teeth in Fraser's direction. "No clue, Fraser. Identification of weird-ass crap is your job, not mine. I'm just the one with the badge and the gun and the driving skills. And the legal authority. I leave anything out, Fraser?"
Fraser folded his hands on the desk and regarded Ray. "Are you upset about something?"
"Now why would you think that, Fraser?"
"Well," he began. "Your body language is both defensive and aggressive, even for you. You've used my name four times since you arrived, in a tone which I've frequently found to indicate--"
"Let me rephrase, Fraser. Why would I be upset?"
He considered the question. He hadn't missed an appointment with Ray. They hadn't argued when last together. In fact, it had been an extremely pleasant evening. And morning. He inspected Ray more closely, looking for an answer. The odiferous substance on his shoes and Fraser's desk appeared to be primarily decomposing vegetable matter, although precisely what vegetation he couldn't yet tell. Ray's clothing was perhaps slightly more rumpled than usual. His hair was still upright, only slightly sweat-wilted around his edges. There were faint marks on his cheek and neck that were most likely the result of scratching by human fingernails. On his right wrist and corresponding shirt cuff were traces of a distinctive shade of mauve, forming a bite pattern on the fabric.
He'd seen that shade just the day before. Fraser's heart sank. "Maude?"
"Maude," Ray confirmed.
"I thought I'd made her understand the foolhardiness of her campaign. That Mr. Smith-Smythe's treatment of her, while wrong, was in no way illegal, but her attempt at retribution was. She assured us she wouldn't be returning."
"And, oddly enough, the chick we caught committing a crime yesterday did not actually keep her word. Said chick actually committed further acts of vandalism and stalking, adding to extensive criminal record--"
"--I wasn't aware of her criminal record--"
"--which we'd have known about if you'd let me bring her in. Then she'd've been booked and we'd have found out that she's trouble. And things might have stopped right there, Fraser, instead of what they did do. Which was not stop."
"Is Mr. Smith-Smythe all right?"
"The schmuck's fine. Yelling his head off, threatening to sue the force, but it's just property damage. She got a truck to dump this all over his store. And stood in the middle of it yelling about him screwing around on her."
"She clearly needs help."
Rolling his eyes, Ray replied, "Yeah, Fraser. Stalker lady needs help. And what she doesn't need is a resisting arrest and assault charge." He shook his wrist in the air, the lipstick print plain to see. "That she wouldn't have had if we brought her in all nice and easy yesterday."
Fraser began to object, but Ray barreled on, "You do not think before you speak, Fraser. You do not consider consequences. There are consequences, Fraser. There are consequences all over my shoes and some of it's in my car and some of it's on your desk."
"While I certainly didn't anticipate this outcome--"
Ray balled his hands into fists and growled through his clenched teeth. It was a remarkably intimidating display.
Speaking very slowly, Ray said, "You didn't anticipate it because you think nice thoughts. You didn't anticipate it because you're this badass detective except when you gotta figure for human nature. Getting a perp to say 'I'm sorry' and getting a vic not to press charges is very nice and officer friendly of you, but it's bad cop work."
Fraser studied his hands, silently disagreeing. It shouldn't be necessary to arrest every malfeasant. He hadn't arrested Willie, and now Willie was thriving. Community policing meant more than uniforms on the street, it meant police participating in the community, making decisions. But Ray was watching him, and Ray deserved an answer. He lifted his chin. "I misinterpreted the situation. I apologize."
They sat together for several minutes, Fraser replaying the events of the day before and attempting to isolate how he'd gone wrong, and Ray glowering at Fraser's desk. Finally, Ray rolled his shoulders, releasing tension, and said, "So, I really reek that bad?"
Smiling despite himself, Fraser replied, "You put the interior of a rotting caribou carcass to shame, Ray."
"And it's on your desk?"
"And my guest chair and the floor, yes."
"Good." Ray hauled himself to his feet. "So I'm done for the day. They didn't want me around the bullpen for some reason."
Fraser nodded. He himself wasn't off duty for several hours, and didn't want to presume...
"You'll come by after?" Ray sounded remarkably casual. "After you go visit Maude?"
"Yes. If you're still... Yes."
"Cool." Ray walked around the desk and gave Fraser a brief, smelly kiss. "Later, then."
"Later, Ray."
*
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