ds_flashfiction | Five Things Challenge by lordess renegade

Title: Five Times Fraser Hugged Someone and Meant It
Author: lordess renegade
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Length: ~1000 words
Notes: thanks and cookies to

llassah, who is apparently skilled enough to inspire even the most stubborn muse. ♥!

He watched the way that Mark hugged his mother sometimes, when they'd be sitting in his kitchen, chilled fingers wrapped around hot mugs of soup and she'd come in and start puttering around, pausing to wrap an arm around her son's shoulders and ask how hockey was.

He'd be careless about it, reaching back and awkwardly patting her, attention still focused on his soup.

"'s fine, mom," he'd mumble, clearly embarrassed the way all almost-teenagers are by their mothers.

Then there was the time, after something like that happened, when they went upstairs to Mark's room and he turned on Fraser, pushing him back against the wall. "You don't have to be all—" he waved a hand at him. "I mean, yeah, she's embarrassing, ok? But you don't have to give me that look when she does stuff like that."

Fraser looked down at the floor, at Mark's hand clutched into his shirt. "I didn't—it wasn't—" He broke off and shook his head, reaching up to grab Mark's fingers and untwist them from the fabric. "I'm sorry. I just…we don't do that."

"Who don't do what?"

"My family. It's…" he shrugged. "It's not like that."

He wandered across the room and sat on the bed, picking at the bedspread while Mark scuffed his toes against the carpet and tried to come up with something to say. "You mean, your grandparents…they don't hug you at all?"

Fraser shrugged. "They have. It's just. It's not all the time. It's not…" he looked up at Mark. "I mean, you don't even notice when your mom does it."

Mark's face twisted into a frown. "No," he agreed. "I guess I don't, always." His expression cleared a little. "But your dad, when he's around. I mean, he hugs you, right?"

Fraser tugged at a blue thread poking out from the blanket. "My dad's not really the hugging type."

Mark was quiet, and Fraser didn't look at him, just kept tracing patterns against the fabric and waiting for Mark to say something funny, to break the moment somehow. But he didn't. Instead, the bed dipped as he sat down next to Fraser and wrapped his arms around him.

Fraser stiffened. "You don't have to—"

"I know," Mark said, hands pressing flat against Fraser's back. "Shut up."

So Fraser closed his eyes, and hugged him back.
______________

He held her that night, body shielding her from the cold and the snow, and he felt her shiver in his arms.

It meant nothing.

He was protecting her, giving her his warmth, and it was less an embrace than a necessity. He grew to love her as the night wore on, to love her faltering voice, her eyelashes covered in snow, and still he held her as one holds something they cherish, something they are trying to shield.

It was only when he stood silent and let her go, when he gathered her into his arms one final time and then pushed her away, that it meant what it should have.

By then, it was too late.
______________

He hugged Maggie as she got into the cab, the two of them sharing the same uniform, the same genes and utterly different pasts.

"I look forward to having you as a brother," she told him, and he smiled, because he had lost enough in his life to know that he would not let himself lose this too.

They fit together strangely well, the two of them, her arms around his shoulders and his around her lower back, as if they had been made to do this their whole lives. When he pulled away again, Ray was smiling at them, maybe laughing a little, and Fraser smiled back at him over Maggie's head as she knelt down to pat Dief.

"Be good," he told her as the cab drove off, and grimaced at how much he sounded like his father.

Their father.
______________

"It's good to see you, Ray."

Ray ducked his head and grinned, the kind of smile that Fraser had been worried he'd never see from him again. "It's good to see you too, Benny," he said, and wrapped Fraser up in his arms.
______________

Ray left for Chicago on a Tuesday. Fraser drove him to the airport and sat with Dief while Ray checked his luggage and handed over his ticket and did all the things that one had to do in order to leave.

Dief lay his head against Fraser's knee and whined.

"I," Ray said as he lifted his carry-on bag onto his shoulder, and Fraser smiled.

"Yes," he said. "Me too, Ray. Me too."

Ray reached out like he was going to hug him, but grabbed his shoulder instead. He held on, and Fraser lifted a hand to cover Ray's. "I'll miss you," he told him.

"Yeah, I…" Ray tried again, and Fraser smiled at him because he knew that it was what Ray needed to see.

Then he walked away.

It was a day later when the door to his cabin blew open and a figure stumbled in, covered head to toe in snow and shedding layers by the second. "Do you have any idea what it takes to get out here from the airport?" a voice demanded as snow fell in melting chunks onto the cabin floor. "Any idea at all? Because I don't think you do! I had to hitch a ride on the back of—" Ray stopped, face finally uncovered, seeing Fraser standing inches in front of him, motionless as if he was the one who was frozen. "Fraser," he said.

"Ray."

"I..." he trailed off, then frowned. "I'm pretty sure my luggage went to Chicago without me," he said.

"Ray. You're back."

Ray's mouth twisted up into a smile. "Yeah, Fraser. I'm back."

Fraser took a tiny step forward, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around Ray, holding him tight through layers of snow-soaked clothing. "I'm glad," he whispered into the fur of Ray's hood.

They stood like that for a long time, snow melting into puddles around their feet.