Hope and Change Challenge by Nos
Feb. 2nd, 2009 12:15 pmTitle: One Thing Benton Fraser Knows About Love
Pairing: F/K
Rating: R
Length: 700 words
Summary: Just like the title says.
Author’s Notes: Many thanks to
caersmane for doing a very quick and insightful beta. Inspired by a bit of dialogue from the episode "You Must Remember This."
One Thing Benton Fraser Knows About Love
After Ray Vecchio left, Fraser often found himself thinking about love.
It wasn’t Ray’s leaving that inspired his musings, although doubtlessly the two were connected. He’d entertained some feelings for his friend, little more than small embers of hope and need that never truly flamed to full life. And how could they? Ray was firmly heterosexual, after all, and he seemed to view Fraser as some rare species of chaste innocent.
What does a Mountie know about love?
Lord, how that question had irked him. Even after Ray had vanished into the neon-washed landscape of Las Vegas, Fraser heard that question echoing through his dreams.
What do I know about love?
He knew that love was a wild animal: something to be respected, but not trusted. It was important, he knew, not to turn one’s back on love, because love would strike when one least expected. He certainly had the scar to prove it.
And he knew that love wasn’t taken seriously. At least, not in America. And certainly not in the last ragged years of this cynical and promiscuous century.
Though love had the power to wound or to heal (a belief to which he stubbornly clung, despite all evidence to the contrary) it was, to put it plainly, a joke. Love was a sentiment on a candy heart. Be Mine. Kiss Me. You’re cute. Love was a pink-covered romance novel. A poorly-executed sonnet. A salacious wink, or a sly elbow to the ribs. Something frivolous, or something embarrassing. Graffiti on the men’s room wall.
Love, to put it simply, wasn’t important. It was the province of fools, poets and greeting-card writers. According to Ray Vecchio, love rated rather far down on the list of priorities. Classic cars were important. Fine food, and good sex, and a magic pair of sunglasses were important. But love? One didn’t speak of love unless one had a severe head injury.
What does anyone know about love?
Years later, Fraser asked himself that question as he lay sprawled across a futon in his new partner's apartment. His leg was falling asleep, the post-coital sweat cooling on his limbs was making him shiver, and he felt wonderfully, blissfully alive.
Ray Kowalski shifted under him, the movement bringing their softening cocks together, and Fraser closed his eyes. He sighed in contentment.
“Jesus,” Ray murmured. “That was—”
“Good,” Fraser supplied. He pressed a soft kiss to the tender skin at the corner of Ray’s eye, where the skin crinkled slightly from too many years of smiling and squinting into the sun. “That was good, Ray.”
Ray chuckled and rubbed at the back of Fraser’s neck, and then his touch drifted upwards into Fraser’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. Another few moments of this, and Fraser knew he’d be purring like a cat.
He lay his head down on Ray’s chest and listened to the slowing thud of his heart. Soon they’d have to move, to clean themselves up, to dress. They'd meant only to take a quick nap before returning to the station to finish up the paperwork on a burglary case. But one thing had led to another, as it often did these days.
Fraser tried to muster the will to get up and attend to duty. But Ray’s massage continued, and he felt only a nameless, drifting contentment. A new sensation. A new realization. An answer to his question.
In the past weeks he'd come to understand that love was possible. It wasn’t a joke, or a predator, or the pursuit of fools. Love was real, and it was happening here, right now, to him. It was happening in this flat midcontinental city, in the midst of noise and traffic and endless concrete and cold, overcast skies. He felt the wonder of it wash over him, and he rolled over and buried his face in Ray’s neck. Love existed, and it took his breath away.
Ray took his breath away.
And that was as little, and as much, as Fraser knew about love.
END
Pairing: F/K
Rating: R
Length: 700 words
Summary: Just like the title says.
Author’s Notes: Many thanks to
One Thing Benton Fraser Knows About Love
After Ray Vecchio left, Fraser often found himself thinking about love.
It wasn’t Ray’s leaving that inspired his musings, although doubtlessly the two were connected. He’d entertained some feelings for his friend, little more than small embers of hope and need that never truly flamed to full life. And how could they? Ray was firmly heterosexual, after all, and he seemed to view Fraser as some rare species of chaste innocent.
What does a Mountie know about love?
Lord, how that question had irked him. Even after Ray had vanished into the neon-washed landscape of Las Vegas, Fraser heard that question echoing through his dreams.
What do I know about love?
He knew that love was a wild animal: something to be respected, but not trusted. It was important, he knew, not to turn one’s back on love, because love would strike when one least expected. He certainly had the scar to prove it.
And he knew that love wasn’t taken seriously. At least, not in America. And certainly not in the last ragged years of this cynical and promiscuous century.
Though love had the power to wound or to heal (a belief to which he stubbornly clung, despite all evidence to the contrary) it was, to put it plainly, a joke. Love was a sentiment on a candy heart. Be Mine. Kiss Me. You’re cute. Love was a pink-covered romance novel. A poorly-executed sonnet. A salacious wink, or a sly elbow to the ribs. Something frivolous, or something embarrassing. Graffiti on the men’s room wall.
Love, to put it simply, wasn’t important. It was the province of fools, poets and greeting-card writers. According to Ray Vecchio, love rated rather far down on the list of priorities. Classic cars were important. Fine food, and good sex, and a magic pair of sunglasses were important. But love? One didn’t speak of love unless one had a severe head injury.
What does anyone know about love?
Years later, Fraser asked himself that question as he lay sprawled across a futon in his new partner's apartment. His leg was falling asleep, the post-coital sweat cooling on his limbs was making him shiver, and he felt wonderfully, blissfully alive.
Ray Kowalski shifted under him, the movement bringing their softening cocks together, and Fraser closed his eyes. He sighed in contentment.
“Jesus,” Ray murmured. “That was—”
“Good,” Fraser supplied. He pressed a soft kiss to the tender skin at the corner of Ray’s eye, where the skin crinkled slightly from too many years of smiling and squinting into the sun. “That was good, Ray.”
Ray chuckled and rubbed at the back of Fraser’s neck, and then his touch drifted upwards into Fraser’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. Another few moments of this, and Fraser knew he’d be purring like a cat.
He lay his head down on Ray’s chest and listened to the slowing thud of his heart. Soon they’d have to move, to clean themselves up, to dress. They'd meant only to take a quick nap before returning to the station to finish up the paperwork on a burglary case. But one thing had led to another, as it often did these days.
Fraser tried to muster the will to get up and attend to duty. But Ray’s massage continued, and he felt only a nameless, drifting contentment. A new sensation. A new realization. An answer to his question.
In the past weeks he'd come to understand that love was possible. It wasn’t a joke, or a predator, or the pursuit of fools. Love was real, and it was happening here, right now, to him. It was happening in this flat midcontinental city, in the midst of noise and traffic and endless concrete and cold, overcast skies. He felt the wonder of it wash over him, and he rolled over and buried his face in Ray’s neck. Love existed, and it took his breath away.
Ray took his breath away.
And that was as little, and as much, as Fraser knew about love.
END
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 05:25 pm (UTC)'the neon-washed landscape of Las Vegas'
Oh that great line :D
'Ray took his breath away.
And that was as little, and as much, as Fraser knew about love.'
Oh, Fraser.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 05:36 pm (UTC)&hearts
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:14 pm (UTC)One little question though, toward the end where he's thinking,
"In the past weeks he'd come to understood that love was possible." shouldn't understood be understand? Could be mistaken, but it just didn't sound right to me.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:46 pm (UTC)I really like the sense of alienation in that description. Also, awwww!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 06:49 pm (UTC)And also, I just love it when Fraser's all thinky and melancholic but ends up all sweaty and cuddling and happy. Yay!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:38 am (UTC)I just love it when Fraser's all thinky and melancholic but ends up all sweaty and cuddling and happy.
Me too! (In case that wasn't obvious *g*) I just...FRASER! *♥ him*
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 07:31 pm (UTC)Julia, unlike the "single scentless rose in a cheap budvase" kind
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:38 am (UTC)(And you are definitely not a scentless rose!)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 07:47 pm (UTC)love was possible. It wasn’t a joke, or a predator, or the pursuit of fools. Love was real, and it was happening here, right now, to him.
Is just exactly right and so what I always kind of wanted to see on the show. Because really, I'd sure like to believe that's true. And nobody deserves that more than Fraser.
Many ♥ ♥ ♥ for this. It's absolutely lovely.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:41 am (UTC)Yes! I was thinking, after reading
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 09:39 pm (UTC)I love Fraser's sense of wonder, how surprising it is to him that this should a) happen for him at all and b) happen here in weird, not-home Chicago, of all places. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 09:53 pm (UTC)I want to believe that Fraser can find love that isn't callous or a predator.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 10:05 pm (UTC)I really like this paragraph:
Though love had the power to wound or to heal (a belief to which he stubbornly clung, despite all evidence to the contrary) it was, to put it plainly, a joke. Love was a sentiment on a candy heart. Be Mine. Kiss Me. You’re cute. Love was a pink-covered romance novel. A poorly-executed sonnet. A salacious wink, or a sly elbow to the ribs. Something frivolous, or something embarrassing. Graffiti on the men’s room wall.
Because even though it's Fraser swearing off love, it still makes it feel real and there and not at all unimportant. Because sometimes, yes, love can be all those things and it matters. You just have to see/hear/feel it.
And Fraser does see it, in the end. Which is good. :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 07:31 am (UTC)Art school kicked my butt tonight, or I'd have read this sooner. Maybe I should have! :)
More later.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 02:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-03 04:48 pm (UTC)This is just lovely!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 02:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 05:01 am (UTC)Oh, Fraser ...
Beautifully done, nos, like always:)
\o/
no subject
Date: 2009-02-09 02:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 07:35 pm (UTC)That was wonderful. It lives in a warm, fuzzy, heart shaped place that I wish I could visit more often. Thank you for taking me there.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-09 02:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-05 08:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-09 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-06 07:26 am (UTC)Oh, excellent. I firmly believe in a Fraser who went through a phase as a young man reading the most tragic and romantic of poetry. To go from his vision of love as the deepest connection possible between humans, to this ... it's almost insulting. That people should have the chance at this most precious of experiences and treat it like trash.
And then for Ray to bring love from this idealized, feared/exhalted state and just give it to Fraser, a simple gift that he knows the guy deserves, just like he'd make Fraser a nice dinner. It's wonderful!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-09 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-06 08:32 pm (UTC)“Good,” Fraser supplied. He pressed a soft kiss to the tender skin at the corner of Ray’s eye, where the skin crinkled slightly from too many years of smiling and squinting into the sun. “That was good, Ray.”
One thing I love about Fraser is that as verbose as he often is, he can also condense volumes into a handful of words.
Love was real, and it was happening here, right now, to him. It was happening in this flat midcontinental city, in the midst of noise and traffic and endless concrete and cold, overcast skies.
This made me tear up. Oh,Fraser. You deserve an endless supply of love (which I'm sure Ray will be happy to give).
Yay, lovely story. Lovely Ray. Lovely Fraser. Love, love love! :)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-09 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-11 03:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-11 03:10 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked this one. *hugs you*
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 06:36 pm (UTC)Oh.
I'm trying to think of more to say about this wonderful story but I'm stuck on oh!
F/K = &hearts