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ds_flashfictionTitle: Like Bacon and Axle Grease
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dessert_first
Team: Romance
Prompt: “Like toothpaste and orange juice — two great tastes that don't go together at all.”
Pairing(s): Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 4,400 words
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Ray is getting ready for the cluelessness Olympics.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
“I just don’t get it,” Dewey was saying as Ray rounded the corner into the breakroom. “Never in a million years would I have thought they’d hook up. They’re so… I mean, it’s like… like salmon and cream cheese, you know?”
Huey shook his head. “Salmon and cream cheese are delicious together,” he said. “You mean more like motor oil and beignet.”
“What’s a beignet?” Dewey asked.
“It’s French for donut,” Ray said, checking out the vending machine sandwich selection. He was kind of in the mood for salmon now.
“Oh, hey, Vecchio!” Dewey exclaimed. “Um, I mean, Kowalski. I, uh, didn’t see you there. We were just, uh, talking—”
“Sandwich fillings,” Huey put in smoothly.
“Uh huh,” Ray narrowed his eyes.
“I think I will take that sandwich after all, Ray,” Fraser said, popping his head in the break room. “Thank you kindly.”
“Sure, Frase,” Ray fed the machine some more money and punched the buttons. “Grab the coffee, will ya?”
They headed back out to his desk in tandem, juggling the food, avoiding a dancing Dief nosing at the sandwiches.
“So, you really think the bicycle club is involved?” Ray asked, settling back into his chair. “’Cause if you said ‘motorcycle club’, sure, I’d be right there with ya, but bicycles, I dunno.”
“Well, Ray, it’s a common misapprehension to believe motorcycle enthusiasts are—”
“Nah, I mean, with all the spandex cutting off their circulation, I don’t think those bicyclists got the brainpower to pull off a heist like that.”
“Ah,” Fraser said, all proper, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “Yes, I see.”
***
“Yeah, right,” Frannie scoffed. “In case of emergency, sure, because Fraser, he’s like Superman or something, he can cart the weight, but long term? That’s like barbecue sauce and lasagna.”
“You mean, like a Southwestern thing?” Diane sounded intrigued. “I’ll tell Nicky to try that. I mean, if you substitute tortillas for the pasta and chili for the meat, you could probably—”
“Carry the weight, Frannie,” Ray said absently, squinting at the Lorenzo file as he passed by. What a dirtbag.
Frannie started and looked guilty. “Cart, carry, pull, whatever,” she said, and headed back to her desk in a hurry.
Diane just kept muttering to herself about jalapeño jack cheese and scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.
“Whatever’s right,” Ray muttered to no one in particular, and moved on.
***
Turned out the bicycle club wasn’t involved, after all. Ray tried to go light on the smug, but Fraser could probably pick up on it anyway.
“Fraser, my friend,” Ray said, slinging an arm across Fraser’s shoulders. “It’s always the florist. When in doubt, think florist.”
“I’m sure that will come in very useful in the course of investigating other cases, Ray,” Fraser said, humoring him. “Perhaps you could explain this theory further over pizza?”
“Put some pineapple on it and I am there, Benton-buddy,” Ray said, handing off his freshly-typed report with a flourish. He didn’t miss the slight grimace Fraser made at the pineapple-pizza combination, but he ignored it. Fraser voluntarily put other people’s chewed gum in his mouth on a daily basis; he could deal with Ray’s pizza toppings.
***
“… from Canada,” Turnbull’s replacement, Constable Green, was saying into the phone as Ray walked into the consulate. “Any posting, any posting at all. And for—”
Ray smiled to himself. Hearing Canada mentioned made his ears twitch ever since he and Fraser got back from their adventure.
Canada, Ray had found out, was big. Really, really big, and also cold. He and Fraser and Dief and the dogs had been out there for two months, searching for… well, for Franklin’s hand, sure. But that was more like an excuse, really, or like a… like a meta-whatsis. What they were really doing out there on the frozen ass-end of the world, Ray figured, was searching for themselves.
Or for each other, maybe.
Out there, it was man against nature, just like Ms. Palaniuk had taught them in freshman English class. The basic conflicts, which Ray still remembers to this day because conflict is just kind of what he does. So in banding together, him and Fraser against nature, they’d made themselves into a team. A unit.
They’d done pretty good for themselves, too. They stopped being Ray against Fraser and started being Ray and Fraser, a real team, just like when they were really in the groove at work. Maybe Ray was never gonna talk like a walking dictionary, and Fraser was never gonna dance worth squat, but the two of them together, they made sense.
They’d brought that back to Chicago with them, and it was like their duet had been, like, tempered. They were stronger now, better. Their solve rate was through the roof. Welsh had even said, in his own gruff way, that he was tempted to send all of his detectives to Canada for two months if this was the result.
Ray didn’t figure two months anywhere would fix Dewey, but he let Welsh have his daydreams.
“What’s really odd,” Green was saying in a hushed voice, intent on his telephone conversation, “is the combination. It’s like—like tomato sauce and chocolate cake.”
“Hey, Green,” Ray said, and the man looked up in a sudden wide-eyed panic. “Fraser in?”
Green hung up the phone without bothering to say goodbye, his face flushed fit to match his dress uniform. “I—I, ah… I believe—right this—that is, you know the way, sir. Detective. Sir. He’s back, ah, back in his, his—”
“Thanks, Green,” Ray shook his head as he wandered over to Fraser’s office. People who can’t take the heat really shouldn’t be making personal calls on company time. Green wouldn’t have lasted a day working for the Ice Queen, that was for sure.
***
“Mangia, ragazzo!” Ma Vecchio heaped another mountain of food onto Ray’s plate. “You’re too skinny from that adventure. This one, he’ll let you waste away!” She tsked at Fraser, frowning. “And you, you eat!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Fraser said, and tucked into his second helping of gnocchi.
The food was amazing, but damn, there was a lot of it. And Ray thought his mom was bad with the forced feedings. Still, it was nice of the Vecchios to be having him and Fraser over for Sunday dinner. Ray figured Ma Vecchio was missing her son now that he was down in Florida with Stella, and he and Fraser were the next best thing.
Funny how she kept inviting the two of them over together.
After he helped clear the table, Ray left Fraser doing the dishes against Ma Vecchio’s vigorous protests and went upstairs to hit the can.
Tony was intently brushing his teeth, slow, careful circles that would make his dentist proud.
Ray backed away.
“Oh, hey,” Tony greeted, waving hello with his toothbrush. He spit into the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m just working on my molars. I can finish up later.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” Ray said. “You go ahead. I’ll just, uh, wait.”
“Naw, come in,” Tony said. “Hey, listen, I been meaning to ask you about Canada. Maria’s been after me to take a second honeymoon. Was that Franklin hand tour real romantic?”
Ray blinked. “Romantic?” The adventure had been a lot of things, but romantic was not one of them. “It was so freaking cold, my breath would freeze onto my scarf. My eyelashes would freeze my eyes shut. My nuts went on vacation so far I thought I’d never see them again. My dick—”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Tony exclaimed. “Jeez. So how do you keep the romance alive on a trip like that?”
Ray laughed. “How the hell should I know? It’s not like we brought a girl along.”
“Tony!” Maria yelled. “Get your butt down here!”
“Yeah, yeah!” Tony leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Listen, I could really use those romance tips, so, you know, give it some thought, okay? I’m, uh, I’m a modern sort of guy.” He rinsed out his toothbrush, set it in its holder and walked off.
***
It wasn’t until the next Friday night that Ray’s schedule let up enough to allow him to, like, think about things. He and Fraser had wrapped up the cereal-prize smuggling ring case, had some Chinese food and called it a night. Ray was still wired from too much coffee and the hand-to-hand combat with the trapeze artist, so he just lay there in bed, replaying the day, and then the day before, and the day before that just kind of followed naturally until the last month went by.
And then he sat up in bed, blinking and poleaxed at two a.m.
People thought he and Fraser were dating.
***
As soon as it was a decent hour, he picked up some pastries and drove over to the Vecchio house. Ma Vecchio exclaimed over him, patted him on the cheek, asked after Fraser, and brewed him some coffee.
As soon as he could, Ray slipped upstairs to find Tony.
He was working on his teeth. Shocking.
“Hey,” Ray said. “You, uh, that thing you said. About the romance.”
Tony brightened. “You got those tips for me? Cause Maria has been on my ass for weeks. She says, if you and the Mountie can find romance, why the hell can’t we? I said, maybe it’s because the Mountie don’t drive you crazy, but that just landed me on the couch for the night. You know, that thing is hell on the back.”
Ray pressed a hand to his forehead. For some reason, his head was throbbing. “Tony,” he said carefully. “What you said about romance. Did you mean me and Fraser were a couple? ‘Cause, you know, we ain’t a couple.”
“Ha! That’s a good one.” Tony grinned. “It’s the humor that keeps things fresh, ain’t it? Me and Maria, we should find more reasons to laugh together.”
“Tony!” Ray yelled. “Me and Fraser are not a couple. I wouldn’t even know what to do with—we’re just not, okay? What makes you think we are?”
“Oh. Oh, man. Look, no offense or nothin’,” Tony said, real careful. “But Fraser and my brother-in-law, they made sense, right? They worked, they had this whole thing. You and the Mountie, you’re like…” he frowned at his toothbrush, meditatively. “Like toothpaste and orange juice — two great tastes that don't go together at all. But there you were, sledding off on a tour of the Canadian wilderness, and now the guy is back. In Chicago. He could be living it up in Canada just like he always wanted, but he’s here. With you. If that’s not romance, I don’t know what is.”
“Tony!” Maria yelled from downstairs. “Did you forget to buy the milk again?”
Tony stuck his head out the bathroom door. “It’s behind the pineapple juice! I got skim like you wanted.”
Ray sighed, then elbowed Tony. Skim, he mouthed. She don’t need it.
The guy frowned at him, mouthing the words, then his face brightened in comprehension. “Not that you need skim, baby, with that bod you got!”
There was a beat. They waited, on edge, holding their breaths as they shared the bath mat.
“Oh, honey!” Maria said. “That’s so sweet! Ain’t that sweet, Frannie?”
Tony beamed. “I owe you, man,” he said, and slapped Ray on the back. He all but skipped out of the bathroom. Ray could hear him clattering down the stairs to join his wife.
“Yeah, me too.” Ray stuck his hands in his pockets and left the bathroom.
***
At Ma Vecchio’s insistence, Ray ate until he was stuffed, then ate some more. Then he said his goodbyes, drove back to the bakery, picked up some more pastries, and headed over to the Consulate.
“Ray!” Fraser looked surprised and pleased. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He was wearing jeans and a sweat shirt, like he’d been planning to take Dief out for a walk.
“Yeah, I know. I brought some, uh, breakfast. Can I come in?”
Fraser smiled. “Of course.” He peered at the bakery box. “Dief will be delighted.”
They didn’t make it three steps into the Consulate before Dief launched himself at Ray. “Hey! This whole box of sugary goodness is not for you, furface. Some of the contents are for you. If you are very, very good.”
Dief backed off, grumbling, and let them get to the kitchen.
“Tea, Ray?” Fraser asked.
“Sure, thanks. I’ll have some of that bark stuff you like.”
“Ah,” Fraser said. “If you wish. But I think, perhaps, if I may—”
“Fraser. While I’m young. I know the Consulate is in Canada, but your Canada is in my United States, so you can be less polite if you want.”
Fraser smiled. “I believe a nice black tea might go better with the pastries you brought.”
“Sure,” Ray said. “Black tea. Green tea. Purple tea. Whatever you say, Benton-buddy.”
“As you wish, Ray.” Fraser made the tea and brought it to the kitchen table. Ray dumped some sugar in his, and he and Fraser sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea.
“Hey Fraser,” Ray said, watching him check out the baked goods. It was a tossup, Ray figured, between the apple-cinnamon oat bran muffin and the banana-nut whole wheat. Ray was guessing it was a banana kind of day, but Fraser sometimes threw him for a loop.
“Yes, Ray?” Fraser picked out the—oh, yeah. Banana-nut for the win. Ray mentally high-fived himself.
“Did you ever—I mean, you ever been with—I mean. Did you mean it about the bark tea not going with the pastries?”
Fraser blinked. “Yes.”
“So bark tea and pastries, they’re like, not compatible? They wouldn’t work together?”
“Ah…” Fraser set aside his muffin, frowning. “Well, that’s not to say they can’t be consumed together if you prefer. Shall I make you a cup?” He stood.
“No, Fraser, not—I don’t need bark tea, okay? That was a meta-whatsis.”
He sat back down. “A metaphor, Ray? For what?”
“You ever think—you still miss Vecchio?”
“I—yes, of course I miss my friend. But I feel very fortunate to have you in my life, Ray. Your friendship has come to mean the world to me. You do know that.”
That was nice. “Thanks, Frase. You, too. So you don’t think we’re, like, incompatible?”
“Incompatible, Ray? Certainly not. I have come to rely on your intuition to temper my, ah, more traditional methods. I think of us as complementary. That is, after all, the essence of a good team.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
Ray sipped some more tea while Fraser ate his breakfast.
“Fraser, can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, Ray.”
“Why did you come back to Chicago?”
Fraser coughed, seeming to get a few walnut bits caught in his throat. “Well, I… that is, there are many… I had thought you…” He scratched his eyebrow fitfully. “You didn’t…? Perhaps I was unclear? Diefenbaker has often said…”
Holy crap. Tony had been right. Tony had been right. Ray had half a mind to check the forecast for a rain of toads. “Was it…”
Suddenly he couldn’t bear to ask the question. The case was looking pretty solid; the evidence was mounting up, but what if he was wrong? What if Fraser had just missed the museums and the opera and Sandor’s pizza delivery and round-the-clock Thai food? He looked up, and was caught in Fraser’s gaze. Those blue eyes looked wide and panicked and the pupils were huge. Ray felt that gaze like a jolt running through his body.
If it was true, if Tony had been right, hell, if everyone had been right, where did that leave them? Where did that leave Ray? He’d never even thought of a guy that way before, he’d never loved a guy before. He looked at Fraser, just sitting there staring at his hands, which he’d clasped together neatly on the table.
Fraser was in love with him. Fraser loved him enough to move back to Chicago for him.
Ray shook his head.
That was… that was more love than Ray’d ever expected anyone to have for him. And of course he loved Fraser, of course he did, he knew that. He just wasn’t in love with the guy. But was it that big a difference? Was it that big a leap to take for Fraser? He jumped off buildings for the guy, but could he kiss him? Touch him? Love him like that?
He stood up to pace the length of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck, gearing up like a boxer. Could he love Fraser like that?
“Ray?” Fraser asked, concerned. He was sitting there quietly, letting Ray work it out, blue eyes tracking him.
Ray waved at him, a little give me a minute wave. He hadn’t felt this mixed up since Vecchio showed up in that hotel room, blasting apart his whole life. He’d been so sure Fraser would leave him then, so afraid to let go, that he’d followed him to Canada on the wing of a plane, hiked through a damned ice field, and then proposed that crazy adventure so he could get to traipse through more ice fields with Fraser.
He stopped suddenly, his body halfway into another step, frozen smack in the middle of the Consulate kitchen.
Ray had followed Fraser to Canada. He’d do it again, too. If that wasn’t romance…
He spun around on his heels and looked at Fraser sitting there anxiously, for once not saying anything at all, not even an Inuit story. His eyes were huge and scared and his face was pale. He was still as a statue.
He was beautiful.
Fraser was beautiful, and kind, and polite, and the smartest, best person Ray had ever known, and okay, batshit crazy, but the good kind of crazy, the kind of crazy Ray wanted to live in all the time.
And that thing Ray’s heart was doing, that pressure in his chest like he was wedged in an ice crevasse, that pulse racing like he was chasing a perp, that was… that was love.
He spun around again, smacking a hand to his forehead, then spun once more and stalked over to Fraser on rapid dancer’s feet.
“Fraser,” he said. “You love me.”
Fraser met his gaze for a second, then his eyes darted away nervously. “Yes.”
He cupped Fraser’s chin and brought it around, because here was the thing. “Me too,” he said, and it felt amazing to put that out there. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” Fraser looked up at him.
“Fraser,” Ray said. “I went to Canada for you.” And then he kissed him.
Fraser’s mouth was warm and soft and achingly sweet, and also slack with amazement. Ray pulled away.
“Hey,” he said. “You wanna move on this while I’m young, here?”
A cough, a blink, and it was like a lake un-freezing over all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” Fraser said. “I thought you said—”
Ray rolled his eyes, grinning. “I said I’m in love you with, you nut. You are the chocolate to my cherry. The salt to my margarita. The tequila to my lime. The cream cheese frosting to my carrot cake. The B to my LT. The ketchup to my fries. The water to my pemmican. The—”
Fraser was laughing helplessly. “I’m not certain what all the food metaphors have to do with—”
“Food, love, sex—which we should try,” Ray said, pulling Fraser out of his chair and dancing him across the kitchen, because Ray was a man of action. He would do this thing, he would love Fraser with everything he had, and he would jump into it like getting pushed out of a plane. “And kissing, which you could put a little back into, by the way. It’s all part and package, Benton-buddy. All part of the Ray Kowalski experience.”
Startled, Fraser moved along with him, breathless. “I—that sounds wonderful, Ray.” He pulled Ray to a stop just by the refrigerator, stared at him like he just couldn’t get enough of looking at Ray, and kissed him.
Finally.
Ray sank into the kiss, and it was amazing. Warm and wet and soft, yeah, and also yielding, and welcoming, and now exploring and oh, he never even knew that tongue would someday make Ray so happy. Ray pulled apart so he could breathe.
“You’re really good at that!” he accused.
Fraser blushed, his body still leaning into Ray as if he couldn’t wait to get back in there.
“Sex,” Ray said. “We should try that.”
“So you said,” Fraser looked dazed and flushed and happy. Ray reached over to rumple his hair, just because he could, just to see what it looked like. It looked amazing, which was no damn surprise at all.
“Hey, you got a bedroom up here, don’t you?”
“Ray! That bedroom is for official Consulate guests.”
“Fraser, we are working on some heavy-duty international relations, here,” Ray said, and towed Fraser out the kitchen and up the stairs. “They’re all yours,” he told Dief on the way out, and caught a blur of white headed straight for the pastries.
Fraser kept stopping on the stairs to kiss Ray, which made progress slow but rewarding. They burst into the frilly white bedroom and Ray ripped the covers off the bed, sending lace and throw pillows flying. He shoved Fraser in the general direction of the bed and Fraser yielded to the shove, his body absorbing the impact almost gladly.
They tugged at each other’s clothes, ripping off and tossing aside hiking boots and sneakers and sweatshirts and jeans with abandon. Ray thought he heard a lamp crash.
Finally they were skin to skin on a field of white, just like the ice fields only a whole lot warmer, and also with the nakedness factor. Fraser kept kissing him like he couldn’t get enough; sweet, fast, shallow kisses on Ray’s arms and elbows and wrists and hands, long sucking kisses on his neck and chest, quick wet licks and nibbles on his belly, soft nuzzles in the creases of his thighs, warm mouthing along his legs and down to his feet.
Ray knew it, Ray knew all that licking things had been dirty all along. He writhed and shook on the bed, overwhelmed with it, Fraser everywhere, all over him, loving him so much it made Ray’s breath catch.
Fraser ran his hands all over Ray’s body, everywhere his warm, wicked mouth had been, and Ray felt completely wrapped up in love like he’d never felt before.
“C’mere,” he said, and tugged at Fraser. Fraser met him eagerly, pressed his mouth to Ray’s face and kissed his temple, his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw and oh, god, his mouth. Ray cupped Fraser’s face in his hands and kissed him, tangled his fingers in Fraser’s hair and kissed him, ran his hands down that firmly muscled back and kissed him, felt the pucker of scar tissue near his spine and kissed him some more, kissed him like he was air, like Ray would consume him. Ray felt filled to bursting with how much he loved Fraser, how much Fraser loved him.
Fraser broke away, panting, pushing aside Ray’s grasping hands, and said “Please, Ray. Please, please let me.”
“Yeah,” Ray breathed. “You betcha. Anything you want.”
Fraser smiled like sunlight and kissed him on the lips again, a hard, fast promise. Then he backed away and settled between Ray’s legs, caressing his thighs with those big hands, mouthing his balls, breathing him in. Ray grasped a handful of snow-white sheets and screwed his eyes shut, then opened them—what was he, crazy?
His hands flailed around until he bumped up against some pillows, shoved them under his head and oh yeah—now he could watch Fraser’s gorgeous face, his messed-up-beyond-belief hair, his hungry, happy eyes and oh, oh, Jesus, Fraser was taking him into his mouth, making love to his dick, stroking that tongue up against him. Fraser’s hands held Ray’s thighs wide apart, and Ray had never felt anyone so overjoyed to have his dick in their mouth. Fraser’s eyes were closed as if in ecstasy, and he was drawing out the blowjob like it was too good to rush, and damn but it was too good to rush, Fraser drawing out sensations from Ray’s whole body through his dick, pulling off to nuzzle at his balls, biting at the lean muscles of Ray’s inner thighs, drawing Ray’s cock back into the warm haven of his mouth. He reached one hand up blindly and Ray gripped it, tangled their fingers and came with Fraser’s hand in his, held tight in his, came his brains out and flopped back, drained, on the mound of frilly white pillows.
“You,” he accused weakly. “You were holding out on me, Benton Fraser. That is not buddies.”
“I’m very sorry, Ray.” Fraser smiled, that crooked tooth showing, and Ray wanted to taste it.
“Okay,” Ray said, magnanimous. “But the next time you fall in love with me, I expect to be informed right away. We could have been doing this for months.”
“Years,” Fraser murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of Ray’s wrist.
Ray blinked, then smiled at him fondly. “Years, then,” he agreed. “Now come up here and kiss me again, and give me a minute to recover all the brain cells you just blew out through my dick. Then show me how to get you off, and mind the technique. I plan to be doing this for the rest of our lives, so I want to learn how to do it right.”
“Yes, Ray,” Fraser smiled.
And then they did.
**
THIS POLL IS NOW CLOSED. ANY FURTHER VOTES WILL NOT BE COUNTED.
[Poll #1081190]
Author:
dessert_firstTeam: Romance
Prompt: “Like toothpaste and orange juice — two great tastes that don't go together at all.”
Pairing(s): Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 4,400 words
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Ray is getting ready for the cluelessness Olympics.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
“I just don’t get it,” Dewey was saying as Ray rounded the corner into the breakroom. “Never in a million years would I have thought they’d hook up. They’re so… I mean, it’s like… like salmon and cream cheese, you know?”
Huey shook his head. “Salmon and cream cheese are delicious together,” he said. “You mean more like motor oil and beignet.”
“What’s a beignet?” Dewey asked.
“It’s French for donut,” Ray said, checking out the vending machine sandwich selection. He was kind of in the mood for salmon now.
“Oh, hey, Vecchio!” Dewey exclaimed. “Um, I mean, Kowalski. I, uh, didn’t see you there. We were just, uh, talking—”
“Sandwich fillings,” Huey put in smoothly.
“Uh huh,” Ray narrowed his eyes.
“I think I will take that sandwich after all, Ray,” Fraser said, popping his head in the break room. “Thank you kindly.”
“Sure, Frase,” Ray fed the machine some more money and punched the buttons. “Grab the coffee, will ya?”
They headed back out to his desk in tandem, juggling the food, avoiding a dancing Dief nosing at the sandwiches.
“So, you really think the bicycle club is involved?” Ray asked, settling back into his chair. “’Cause if you said ‘motorcycle club’, sure, I’d be right there with ya, but bicycles, I dunno.”
“Well, Ray, it’s a common misapprehension to believe motorcycle enthusiasts are—”
“Nah, I mean, with all the spandex cutting off their circulation, I don’t think those bicyclists got the brainpower to pull off a heist like that.”
“Ah,” Fraser said, all proper, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “Yes, I see.”
***
“Yeah, right,” Frannie scoffed. “In case of emergency, sure, because Fraser, he’s like Superman or something, he can cart the weight, but long term? That’s like barbecue sauce and lasagna.”
“You mean, like a Southwestern thing?” Diane sounded intrigued. “I’ll tell Nicky to try that. I mean, if you substitute tortillas for the pasta and chili for the meat, you could probably—”
“Carry the weight, Frannie,” Ray said absently, squinting at the Lorenzo file as he passed by. What a dirtbag.
Frannie started and looked guilty. “Cart, carry, pull, whatever,” she said, and headed back to her desk in a hurry.
Diane just kept muttering to herself about jalapeño jack cheese and scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.
“Whatever’s right,” Ray muttered to no one in particular, and moved on.
***
Turned out the bicycle club wasn’t involved, after all. Ray tried to go light on the smug, but Fraser could probably pick up on it anyway.
“Fraser, my friend,” Ray said, slinging an arm across Fraser’s shoulders. “It’s always the florist. When in doubt, think florist.”
“I’m sure that will come in very useful in the course of investigating other cases, Ray,” Fraser said, humoring him. “Perhaps you could explain this theory further over pizza?”
“Put some pineapple on it and I am there, Benton-buddy,” Ray said, handing off his freshly-typed report with a flourish. He didn’t miss the slight grimace Fraser made at the pineapple-pizza combination, but he ignored it. Fraser voluntarily put other people’s chewed gum in his mouth on a daily basis; he could deal with Ray’s pizza toppings.
***
“… from Canada,” Turnbull’s replacement, Constable Green, was saying into the phone as Ray walked into the consulate. “Any posting, any posting at all. And for—”
Ray smiled to himself. Hearing Canada mentioned made his ears twitch ever since he and Fraser got back from their adventure.
Canada, Ray had found out, was big. Really, really big, and also cold. He and Fraser and Dief and the dogs had been out there for two months, searching for… well, for Franklin’s hand, sure. But that was more like an excuse, really, or like a… like a meta-whatsis. What they were really doing out there on the frozen ass-end of the world, Ray figured, was searching for themselves.
Or for each other, maybe.
Out there, it was man against nature, just like Ms. Palaniuk had taught them in freshman English class. The basic conflicts, which Ray still remembers to this day because conflict is just kind of what he does. So in banding together, him and Fraser against nature, they’d made themselves into a team. A unit.
They’d done pretty good for themselves, too. They stopped being Ray against Fraser and started being Ray and Fraser, a real team, just like when they were really in the groove at work. Maybe Ray was never gonna talk like a walking dictionary, and Fraser was never gonna dance worth squat, but the two of them together, they made sense.
They’d brought that back to Chicago with them, and it was like their duet had been, like, tempered. They were stronger now, better. Their solve rate was through the roof. Welsh had even said, in his own gruff way, that he was tempted to send all of his detectives to Canada for two months if this was the result.
Ray didn’t figure two months anywhere would fix Dewey, but he let Welsh have his daydreams.
“What’s really odd,” Green was saying in a hushed voice, intent on his telephone conversation, “is the combination. It’s like—like tomato sauce and chocolate cake.”
“Hey, Green,” Ray said, and the man looked up in a sudden wide-eyed panic. “Fraser in?”
Green hung up the phone without bothering to say goodbye, his face flushed fit to match his dress uniform. “I—I, ah… I believe—right this—that is, you know the way, sir. Detective. Sir. He’s back, ah, back in his, his—”
“Thanks, Green,” Ray shook his head as he wandered over to Fraser’s office. People who can’t take the heat really shouldn’t be making personal calls on company time. Green wouldn’t have lasted a day working for the Ice Queen, that was for sure.
***
“Mangia, ragazzo!” Ma Vecchio heaped another mountain of food onto Ray’s plate. “You’re too skinny from that adventure. This one, he’ll let you waste away!” She tsked at Fraser, frowning. “And you, you eat!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Fraser said, and tucked into his second helping of gnocchi.
The food was amazing, but damn, there was a lot of it. And Ray thought his mom was bad with the forced feedings. Still, it was nice of the Vecchios to be having him and Fraser over for Sunday dinner. Ray figured Ma Vecchio was missing her son now that he was down in Florida with Stella, and he and Fraser were the next best thing.
Funny how she kept inviting the two of them over together.
After he helped clear the table, Ray left Fraser doing the dishes against Ma Vecchio’s vigorous protests and went upstairs to hit the can.
Tony was intently brushing his teeth, slow, careful circles that would make his dentist proud.
Ray backed away.
“Oh, hey,” Tony greeted, waving hello with his toothbrush. He spit into the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m just working on my molars. I can finish up later.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” Ray said. “You go ahead. I’ll just, uh, wait.”
“Naw, come in,” Tony said. “Hey, listen, I been meaning to ask you about Canada. Maria’s been after me to take a second honeymoon. Was that Franklin hand tour real romantic?”
Ray blinked. “Romantic?” The adventure had been a lot of things, but romantic was not one of them. “It was so freaking cold, my breath would freeze onto my scarf. My eyelashes would freeze my eyes shut. My nuts went on vacation so far I thought I’d never see them again. My dick—”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Tony exclaimed. “Jeez. So how do you keep the romance alive on a trip like that?”
Ray laughed. “How the hell should I know? It’s not like we brought a girl along.”
“Tony!” Maria yelled. “Get your butt down here!”
“Yeah, yeah!” Tony leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Listen, I could really use those romance tips, so, you know, give it some thought, okay? I’m, uh, I’m a modern sort of guy.” He rinsed out his toothbrush, set it in its holder and walked off.
***
It wasn’t until the next Friday night that Ray’s schedule let up enough to allow him to, like, think about things. He and Fraser had wrapped up the cereal-prize smuggling ring case, had some Chinese food and called it a night. Ray was still wired from too much coffee and the hand-to-hand combat with the trapeze artist, so he just lay there in bed, replaying the day, and then the day before, and the day before that just kind of followed naturally until the last month went by.
And then he sat up in bed, blinking and poleaxed at two a.m.
People thought he and Fraser were dating.
***
As soon as it was a decent hour, he picked up some pastries and drove over to the Vecchio house. Ma Vecchio exclaimed over him, patted him on the cheek, asked after Fraser, and brewed him some coffee.
As soon as he could, Ray slipped upstairs to find Tony.
He was working on his teeth. Shocking.
“Hey,” Ray said. “You, uh, that thing you said. About the romance.”
Tony brightened. “You got those tips for me? Cause Maria has been on my ass for weeks. She says, if you and the Mountie can find romance, why the hell can’t we? I said, maybe it’s because the Mountie don’t drive you crazy, but that just landed me on the couch for the night. You know, that thing is hell on the back.”
Ray pressed a hand to his forehead. For some reason, his head was throbbing. “Tony,” he said carefully. “What you said about romance. Did you mean me and Fraser were a couple? ‘Cause, you know, we ain’t a couple.”
“Ha! That’s a good one.” Tony grinned. “It’s the humor that keeps things fresh, ain’t it? Me and Maria, we should find more reasons to laugh together.”
“Tony!” Ray yelled. “Me and Fraser are not a couple. I wouldn’t even know what to do with—we’re just not, okay? What makes you think we are?”
“Oh. Oh, man. Look, no offense or nothin’,” Tony said, real careful. “But Fraser and my brother-in-law, they made sense, right? They worked, they had this whole thing. You and the Mountie, you’re like…” he frowned at his toothbrush, meditatively. “Like toothpaste and orange juice — two great tastes that don't go together at all. But there you were, sledding off on a tour of the Canadian wilderness, and now the guy is back. In Chicago. He could be living it up in Canada just like he always wanted, but he’s here. With you. If that’s not romance, I don’t know what is.”
“Tony!” Maria yelled from downstairs. “Did you forget to buy the milk again?”
Tony stuck his head out the bathroom door. “It’s behind the pineapple juice! I got skim like you wanted.”
Ray sighed, then elbowed Tony. Skim, he mouthed. She don’t need it.
The guy frowned at him, mouthing the words, then his face brightened in comprehension. “Not that you need skim, baby, with that bod you got!”
There was a beat. They waited, on edge, holding their breaths as they shared the bath mat.
“Oh, honey!” Maria said. “That’s so sweet! Ain’t that sweet, Frannie?”
Tony beamed. “I owe you, man,” he said, and slapped Ray on the back. He all but skipped out of the bathroom. Ray could hear him clattering down the stairs to join his wife.
“Yeah, me too.” Ray stuck his hands in his pockets and left the bathroom.
***
At Ma Vecchio’s insistence, Ray ate until he was stuffed, then ate some more. Then he said his goodbyes, drove back to the bakery, picked up some more pastries, and headed over to the Consulate.
“Ray!” Fraser looked surprised and pleased. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He was wearing jeans and a sweat shirt, like he’d been planning to take Dief out for a walk.
“Yeah, I know. I brought some, uh, breakfast. Can I come in?”
Fraser smiled. “Of course.” He peered at the bakery box. “Dief will be delighted.”
They didn’t make it three steps into the Consulate before Dief launched himself at Ray. “Hey! This whole box of sugary goodness is not for you, furface. Some of the contents are for you. If you are very, very good.”
Dief backed off, grumbling, and let them get to the kitchen.
“Tea, Ray?” Fraser asked.
“Sure, thanks. I’ll have some of that bark stuff you like.”
“Ah,” Fraser said. “If you wish. But I think, perhaps, if I may—”
“Fraser. While I’m young. I know the Consulate is in Canada, but your Canada is in my United States, so you can be less polite if you want.”
Fraser smiled. “I believe a nice black tea might go better with the pastries you brought.”
“Sure,” Ray said. “Black tea. Green tea. Purple tea. Whatever you say, Benton-buddy.”
“As you wish, Ray.” Fraser made the tea and brought it to the kitchen table. Ray dumped some sugar in his, and he and Fraser sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea.
“Hey Fraser,” Ray said, watching him check out the baked goods. It was a tossup, Ray figured, between the apple-cinnamon oat bran muffin and the banana-nut whole wheat. Ray was guessing it was a banana kind of day, but Fraser sometimes threw him for a loop.
“Yes, Ray?” Fraser picked out the—oh, yeah. Banana-nut for the win. Ray mentally high-fived himself.
“Did you ever—I mean, you ever been with—I mean. Did you mean it about the bark tea not going with the pastries?”
Fraser blinked. “Yes.”
“So bark tea and pastries, they’re like, not compatible? They wouldn’t work together?”
“Ah…” Fraser set aside his muffin, frowning. “Well, that’s not to say they can’t be consumed together if you prefer. Shall I make you a cup?” He stood.
“No, Fraser, not—I don’t need bark tea, okay? That was a meta-whatsis.”
He sat back down. “A metaphor, Ray? For what?”
“You ever think—you still miss Vecchio?”
“I—yes, of course I miss my friend. But I feel very fortunate to have you in my life, Ray. Your friendship has come to mean the world to me. You do know that.”
That was nice. “Thanks, Frase. You, too. So you don’t think we’re, like, incompatible?”
“Incompatible, Ray? Certainly not. I have come to rely on your intuition to temper my, ah, more traditional methods. I think of us as complementary. That is, after all, the essence of a good team.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
Ray sipped some more tea while Fraser ate his breakfast.
“Fraser, can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, Ray.”
“Why did you come back to Chicago?”
Fraser coughed, seeming to get a few walnut bits caught in his throat. “Well, I… that is, there are many… I had thought you…” He scratched his eyebrow fitfully. “You didn’t…? Perhaps I was unclear? Diefenbaker has often said…”
Holy crap. Tony had been right. Tony had been right. Ray had half a mind to check the forecast for a rain of toads. “Was it…”
Suddenly he couldn’t bear to ask the question. The case was looking pretty solid; the evidence was mounting up, but what if he was wrong? What if Fraser had just missed the museums and the opera and Sandor’s pizza delivery and round-the-clock Thai food? He looked up, and was caught in Fraser’s gaze. Those blue eyes looked wide and panicked and the pupils were huge. Ray felt that gaze like a jolt running through his body.
If it was true, if Tony had been right, hell, if everyone had been right, where did that leave them? Where did that leave Ray? He’d never even thought of a guy that way before, he’d never loved a guy before. He looked at Fraser, just sitting there staring at his hands, which he’d clasped together neatly on the table.
Fraser was in love with him. Fraser loved him enough to move back to Chicago for him.
Ray shook his head.
That was… that was more love than Ray’d ever expected anyone to have for him. And of course he loved Fraser, of course he did, he knew that. He just wasn’t in love with the guy. But was it that big a difference? Was it that big a leap to take for Fraser? He jumped off buildings for the guy, but could he kiss him? Touch him? Love him like that?
He stood up to pace the length of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck, gearing up like a boxer. Could he love Fraser like that?
“Ray?” Fraser asked, concerned. He was sitting there quietly, letting Ray work it out, blue eyes tracking him.
Ray waved at him, a little give me a minute wave. He hadn’t felt this mixed up since Vecchio showed up in that hotel room, blasting apart his whole life. He’d been so sure Fraser would leave him then, so afraid to let go, that he’d followed him to Canada on the wing of a plane, hiked through a damned ice field, and then proposed that crazy adventure so he could get to traipse through more ice fields with Fraser.
He stopped suddenly, his body halfway into another step, frozen smack in the middle of the Consulate kitchen.
Ray had followed Fraser to Canada. He’d do it again, too. If that wasn’t romance…
He spun around on his heels and looked at Fraser sitting there anxiously, for once not saying anything at all, not even an Inuit story. His eyes were huge and scared and his face was pale. He was still as a statue.
He was beautiful.
Fraser was beautiful, and kind, and polite, and the smartest, best person Ray had ever known, and okay, batshit crazy, but the good kind of crazy, the kind of crazy Ray wanted to live in all the time.
And that thing Ray’s heart was doing, that pressure in his chest like he was wedged in an ice crevasse, that pulse racing like he was chasing a perp, that was… that was love.
He spun around again, smacking a hand to his forehead, then spun once more and stalked over to Fraser on rapid dancer’s feet.
“Fraser,” he said. “You love me.”
Fraser met his gaze for a second, then his eyes darted away nervously. “Yes.”
He cupped Fraser’s chin and brought it around, because here was the thing. “Me too,” he said, and it felt amazing to put that out there. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” Fraser looked up at him.
“Fraser,” Ray said. “I went to Canada for you.” And then he kissed him.
Fraser’s mouth was warm and soft and achingly sweet, and also slack with amazement. Ray pulled away.
“Hey,” he said. “You wanna move on this while I’m young, here?”
A cough, a blink, and it was like a lake un-freezing over all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” Fraser said. “I thought you said—”
Ray rolled his eyes, grinning. “I said I’m in love you with, you nut. You are the chocolate to my cherry. The salt to my margarita. The tequila to my lime. The cream cheese frosting to my carrot cake. The B to my LT. The ketchup to my fries. The water to my pemmican. The—”
Fraser was laughing helplessly. “I’m not certain what all the food metaphors have to do with—”
“Food, love, sex—which we should try,” Ray said, pulling Fraser out of his chair and dancing him across the kitchen, because Ray was a man of action. He would do this thing, he would love Fraser with everything he had, and he would jump into it like getting pushed out of a plane. “And kissing, which you could put a little back into, by the way. It’s all part and package, Benton-buddy. All part of the Ray Kowalski experience.”
Startled, Fraser moved along with him, breathless. “I—that sounds wonderful, Ray.” He pulled Ray to a stop just by the refrigerator, stared at him like he just couldn’t get enough of looking at Ray, and kissed him.
Finally.
Ray sank into the kiss, and it was amazing. Warm and wet and soft, yeah, and also yielding, and welcoming, and now exploring and oh, he never even knew that tongue would someday make Ray so happy. Ray pulled apart so he could breathe.
“You’re really good at that!” he accused.
Fraser blushed, his body still leaning into Ray as if he couldn’t wait to get back in there.
“Sex,” Ray said. “We should try that.”
“So you said,” Fraser looked dazed and flushed and happy. Ray reached over to rumple his hair, just because he could, just to see what it looked like. It looked amazing, which was no damn surprise at all.
“Hey, you got a bedroom up here, don’t you?”
“Ray! That bedroom is for official Consulate guests.”
“Fraser, we are working on some heavy-duty international relations, here,” Ray said, and towed Fraser out the kitchen and up the stairs. “They’re all yours,” he told Dief on the way out, and caught a blur of white headed straight for the pastries.
Fraser kept stopping on the stairs to kiss Ray, which made progress slow but rewarding. They burst into the frilly white bedroom and Ray ripped the covers off the bed, sending lace and throw pillows flying. He shoved Fraser in the general direction of the bed and Fraser yielded to the shove, his body absorbing the impact almost gladly.
They tugged at each other’s clothes, ripping off and tossing aside hiking boots and sneakers and sweatshirts and jeans with abandon. Ray thought he heard a lamp crash.
Finally they were skin to skin on a field of white, just like the ice fields only a whole lot warmer, and also with the nakedness factor. Fraser kept kissing him like he couldn’t get enough; sweet, fast, shallow kisses on Ray’s arms and elbows and wrists and hands, long sucking kisses on his neck and chest, quick wet licks and nibbles on his belly, soft nuzzles in the creases of his thighs, warm mouthing along his legs and down to his feet.
Ray knew it, Ray knew all that licking things had been dirty all along. He writhed and shook on the bed, overwhelmed with it, Fraser everywhere, all over him, loving him so much it made Ray’s breath catch.
Fraser ran his hands all over Ray’s body, everywhere his warm, wicked mouth had been, and Ray felt completely wrapped up in love like he’d never felt before.
“C’mere,” he said, and tugged at Fraser. Fraser met him eagerly, pressed his mouth to Ray’s face and kissed his temple, his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw and oh, god, his mouth. Ray cupped Fraser’s face in his hands and kissed him, tangled his fingers in Fraser’s hair and kissed him, ran his hands down that firmly muscled back and kissed him, felt the pucker of scar tissue near his spine and kissed him some more, kissed him like he was air, like Ray would consume him. Ray felt filled to bursting with how much he loved Fraser, how much Fraser loved him.
Fraser broke away, panting, pushing aside Ray’s grasping hands, and said “Please, Ray. Please, please let me.”
“Yeah,” Ray breathed. “You betcha. Anything you want.”
Fraser smiled like sunlight and kissed him on the lips again, a hard, fast promise. Then he backed away and settled between Ray’s legs, caressing his thighs with those big hands, mouthing his balls, breathing him in. Ray grasped a handful of snow-white sheets and screwed his eyes shut, then opened them—what was he, crazy?
His hands flailed around until he bumped up against some pillows, shoved them under his head and oh yeah—now he could watch Fraser’s gorgeous face, his messed-up-beyond-belief hair, his hungry, happy eyes and oh, oh, Jesus, Fraser was taking him into his mouth, making love to his dick, stroking that tongue up against him. Fraser’s hands held Ray’s thighs wide apart, and Ray had never felt anyone so overjoyed to have his dick in their mouth. Fraser’s eyes were closed as if in ecstasy, and he was drawing out the blowjob like it was too good to rush, and damn but it was too good to rush, Fraser drawing out sensations from Ray’s whole body through his dick, pulling off to nuzzle at his balls, biting at the lean muscles of Ray’s inner thighs, drawing Ray’s cock back into the warm haven of his mouth. He reached one hand up blindly and Ray gripped it, tangled their fingers and came with Fraser’s hand in his, held tight in his, came his brains out and flopped back, drained, on the mound of frilly white pillows.
“You,” he accused weakly. “You were holding out on me, Benton Fraser. That is not buddies.”
“I’m very sorry, Ray.” Fraser smiled, that crooked tooth showing, and Ray wanted to taste it.
“Okay,” Ray said, magnanimous. “But the next time you fall in love with me, I expect to be informed right away. We could have been doing this for months.”
“Years,” Fraser murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of Ray’s wrist.
Ray blinked, then smiled at him fondly. “Years, then,” he agreed. “Now come up here and kiss me again, and give me a minute to recover all the brain cells you just blew out through my dick. Then show me how to get you off, and mind the technique. I plan to be doing this for the rest of our lives, so I want to learn how to do it right.”
“Yes, Ray,” Fraser smiled.
And then they did.
**
THIS POLL IS NOW CLOSED. ANY FURTHER VOTES WILL NOT BE COUNTED.
[Poll #1081190]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 07:30 pm (UTC)I really liked this expression of Ray's obliviousness; that having come back from the adventure, the solidity of their duet was what mattered. And then, came the romance.
Very nice.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 09:24 pm (UTC)That right there brought the whole combination metaphor home. That is ART. Hee!
This fic is adorkable, much like Ray and Fraser. Plus: cast! Ensemble = love.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 09:39 pm (UTC)That whole, long list of things that do not go together, woven throughout the story, and the hand to hand combat with a trapeze artist! And this:
And then he sat up in bed, blinking and poleaxed at two a.m.
Fab!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 10:59 pm (UTC)And that thing Ray’s heart was doing, that pressure in his chest like he was wedged in an ice crevasse, that pulse racing like he was chasing a perp, that was… that was love.
like that...it's so much better when sweet has a little bite to it, like candied ginger! (to continue with the food metaphors.)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 12:48 am (UTC)Ray grasped a handful of snow-white sheets and screwed his eyes shut, then opened them—what was he, crazy?
I laughed out loud at this.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 04:52 am (UTC)Funny and sweet and I LOVED Ray talking to/helping out Tony and all the food analogies and YAY for Ray and Fraser! Fantastic fic!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 06:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 06:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 08:13 am (UTC)I love Clueless!Ray who doesn't know they're dating, and Clueless!Fraser, who's content to date Ray without Ray's actually knowing about it, and Ray's so-quick realization (coming so late in the game) of what the traveling to Canada and back to Chicago really meant. And the food metaphors, and the voices, and EVERYTHING. This is exquisite, rollicking great fun, and I am standing and CHEERING. \o/ Yay! Yippee! Grand slam!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 08:09 pm (UTC)Ray laughed. “How the hell should I know? It’s not like we brought a girl along.”
Aha! Clueless!Ray is the best! Great story, thanks! *g*
no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 10:09 pm (UTC)“Food, love, sex—which we should try,” Ray said, pulling Fraser out of his chair and dancing him across the kitchen, because Ray was a man of action. He would do this thing, he would love Fraser with everything he had, and he would jump into it like getting pushed out of a plane.
And that paragraph made me fall for Ray just a little more.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-03 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-04 05:49 pm (UTC)I'm so jealous of the Ray-voice and Ray-gestures skill here! Yay!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-05 05:47 am (UTC)This was so very enjoyable. And I loved your ability to come up with a never-ending list of two good tastes that don't go so well together--it's a talent!
Fantastic!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-05 09:46 pm (UTC)Holy crap. Tony had been right. Tony had been right. Ray had half a mind to check the forecast for a rain of toads.
Heeeeeeeee!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-06 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-10 05:30 am (UTC)And this : Fraser broke away, panting, pushing aside Ray’s grasping hands, and said “Please, Ray. Please, please let me.”
Goes off to take a cold shower...great story!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-11 06:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-15 09:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 06:39 pm (UTC)Great story!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-17 06:08 am (UTC)“Sex,” Ray said. “We should try that.” EE!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-18 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 09:30 pm (UTC)Dude, I can't believe I didn't comment on this yet. *slaps self* Excellent, excellent stuff here, not the least because it hits a bullet-proof kink for me - the epiphany.
“Me too,” he said, and it felt amazing to put that out there. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” Fraser looked up at him.
“Fraser,” Ray said. “I went to Canada for you.”
Hee! Oh, my boys. *happy sigh*
no subject
Date: 2009-05-04 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-05 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-29 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 03:05 am (UTC)OK, that totally made me smile like a sap :D