ds_flashfiction | Self-insertion challenge by slidellra

Porn, cookies, and experimental hair.
Fraser, Vecchio. All ages. ~1000 words.
Thanks and kisses to

kristiinthedark for beta and giggling and suggestions. *gives her a cookie*

As he and Fraser approached their sixth house that morning, Ray heard a woman moan: "That's right, you big stud, GIVE IT TO ME!! Oooooh, YEAH!!!"

He checked his watch. 10:53 a.m. He wanted that guy's job.

"It's a recording," Fraser said, sounding relieved from the far edge of the porch. "Perhaps we should...The house across the street looks promising."

"Nope. No time to waste," Ray said, knocking. "The sooner we find Davis, the sooner we're on a plane back to Chicago. We've come too far to get chased off by porn."

Ray couldn't make out much more of the porno soundtrack, which mostly seemed like just talking now anyway, but by the time it cut out Fraser's eyes were wide with shock and his ears were a nice cherry red. Inside the house something clattered and a woman yelled "Fuck! Just a minute!" and what seemed like a pack of dogs clawed at the other side of the door, working themselves up to what they probably thought was some pretty impressive howling.

Dief disagreed, and lifted his leg on the porch railing. Fraser, distracted, seemed not to notice. Ray was feeling lucky, so he pictured the woman on the other side of the door, starting with her legs. He could just see it, heading back to Chicago with Davis in cuffs and a new, leggy, porn-afficionado pen pal. Kind of a nymphomaniac, but classy. Yeah. He'd put her picture in a nice frame on his desk, and everybody...

Or not. The lady who cracked the door open, bracing it against some squashed-faced little dogs, was wearing an ugly yellow t-shirt and her hair stuck up like it'd been electrocuted on just the one side of her head. Ray sighed as fantasy #29879804 popped and floated away.

Holding up the blurry surveillance shot, he reeled off: "Detective Vecchio, miss, and this is Constable Fraser. We're sorry to disturb you, but have you seen this man?"

The lady just stared back and forth between them, eyes and mouth open wide. Behind her, one of the dogs sounded like it was asphyxiating.

"Lady?" So far, Ray was not impressed with the level of brainpower displayed by your average Texan. Raising his voice, he repeated, "Just look at the picture, all right? This guy you don't want hanging around your neighborhood."

She shook her head and squeaked something that sounded suspiciously like "Eh?"

Fraser stepped forward, clearing his throat, and her eyes shot right back to him and stuck there. She squeezed out the door, slamming it on the yappy little dogpack, and stood there gaping at him.

"We do apologize for the intrusion," he told her in the warm, rich voice he used with old women and large groups of citizens in need of hope. "We're guests in your city, you see, come all the way from Chicago looking for this man. He's wanted for questioning in a number of robberies as well as the disappearance of a very tall man named Ordway."

She was riveted, smiling up into Fraser's eyes and breathing an "Ahhh" that would have fit right in on her porno.

Ray broke up the moment, waving the picture in her face and demanding, "So, lady, have you seen him or not?"

"No," she said sadly, finally looking at the picture and remembering real words. "I haven't left the house in three days." She twitched a look back over her shoulder, junkie-quick, and said, "My computer! I need to. You. They. 2008!"

"Right, lady," Ray sighed. "Thanks for your help."

"Your eyes are beautiful," she told him, so maybe she wasn't a complete loss.

Dief was back on the sidewalk, eyeing a huge, spiky, desert-type plant. Ray joined him, careful to keep plenty of space between his silk shirt and deadly, spiky nature. Fraser was still on the porch, backing up, one booted foot feeling for the step down as the girl advanced on him. She'd finally found her voice and was talking a mile a minute: "--a big fan huge oh my god nobody is going to believe how is this possible tell him earth tones okay earth tones so much better--"

"Yes, yes, thank you kindly." Ray stared as Fraser cleared his throat and actually said, "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly were you listening to when we arrived?"

She frowned. "I... I don't know if I can tell you. What season is it? You're so pretty."

"Ah," Fraser replied. "Excellent question. We'll just be on our way now."

"I love you!" she called after them.

"Wow," Ray said.

"Terrifying," Fraser agreed.

"That was some hair." Ray ran a careful hand over his own sleek, smooth strands. "She stick her finger in a socket?"

Fraser held the gate to the next house open, and as Ray walked through, he said, thoughtfully, "Actually, I found the style rather charming."

"We've got to get out of this state, Fraser. It's a bad influence on you."

"Oh, undoubtedly."

When the guy at the next house opened the door wearing a long, hooded, white cape, Ray was ready to forget he'd ever heard of Davis, if it'd get him out of here with his sanity and self-respect intact. But then the guy took one look at the picture and, speaking in soft, lightly-accented English, pointed them around the corner to a yoga studio and vegetarian Mexican restaurant/bakery. Apparently Davis had a thing for spelt chocolate chip cookies.

After taking Davis into custody with no more fuss than a couple of overturned tables and an enchilada plate that Dief helpfully cleaned off the floor, they were waved out of the restaurant with a free bag of whole-grain pastries. Ray took one bite of his own cookie and screwed up his face in disgust. "That is disgusting. "

"Mmm," Fraser said, chewing, and finished the bag all by himself.

* Much love to

zabira's recording of Bone and Aristide's "How Ray Got His Groove Back," as well as the story itself. And also to Mr. Natural.