Lace tangled moths

Due South

Fri, 19 Dec 2008 13:54:08 GMT

Clueless
F/RK
R
Sorry, no beta

Looking back, Fraser could actually pinpoint the day things changed. They had set out on their adventure; Frobisher giving them a grand send off, Ray and Dief were practically vibrating with excitement. Truth be told though, so was Fraser. Coming off from such an emotional and physical roller coaster ride he had felt wide open, his possibilities endless.

At the time he had chalked it all up to being home, laying his father’s spirit to rest, and yes guiltily, proving his own vindication and self worth to the RCMP. Fraser chuckled quietly, how narrow his scope had been.

Packing up and sledding off with Ray had been a ‘no brainer’ as Ray would say. And that’s exactly what Fraser had done, without a thought or detailed analysis of the underlying ramifications, he had basically snatched Ray. Taken Ray from his opportunity to go back, to return to Chicago, to his own life, his own duty.

Sighing in agreement as Dief whined, “Yes, the scenario couldn’t have been more appropriate than if it had been the dark of night and I smuggled him across the border.”

Dief chuffed.

“No, I’m not being overly dramatic” Fraser scowled at the fireplace “I gave no consideration for his welfare.”

Dief snuffed.

“Well, saying he wanted to go doesn’t necessarily mean…” he tapered off as Dief pointedly turned away to curl up on the hearth rug.

Fraser sighed. Well, anyway, looking back on it now it was as clear as day. Hindsight and all that; and it had been an amazing journey. Ray had fallen easily for the amazing beauty of the landscape, and luckily the weather had been kind. They had only been snowed under four times, and Ray had adapted remarkably well. He learned quickly and their only harsh words had been exchanged when Ray felt that Fraser wasn’t letting him pull his weight.

Smiling, Fraser nodded to himself. Of course, Ray had been right. It had been obvious that Fraser was coddling his partner, at the time though Fraser wrote it off as Ray being… well, American, urban; words that would never cross his lips of course, lest Ray make good on his ‘kick in the head’ threat.

But now, in the context he had been forced to acknowledge, his actions had been obvious, so glaring.

Fraser let his eyes close as he remembered. Those months surviving the elements, working together, just as they had done in Chicago. Fraser wondered if he had been subconsciously giving it a test run, so to speak. To see how Ray would fare, to see if he…could adapt, would want to.

Returning to his journal he picked up where his mind had wandered from.

‘….Ray is quiet tonight. When I asked if all was well he was abrupt, startlingly angry. I find his mood seems to be turning. I can only surmise he has tired of such a harsh expedition. However, I am unable to ask. I realize I fear the answers I might receive. I know that he cannot stay indefinitely, but I … well I don’t know what exactly I want. Other than I now realize I don’t want to have a long distance partnership. I suppose that is my selfishness coming to light. Leading such a solitary existence for so long and then being partnered has more than likely softened me.

Yes, it’s quit unrealistic on my part to expect the same from Ray. After all he could go… back, have the convenience of a partner he can work with everyday, yet pursue a social life.’

Looking up Fraser stared at the fire, remembering how hard it was to write that with a steady hand. Yet it was easy for his mind to suppress the reason why. Surly Dief would call him scent blind. But he knew now, he had also been sight blind, heart blind. It was so obvious now.

“Hey” Ray murmured from the bedroom door.

Fraser couldn’t help but smile at the vision before him. Ray bed rumpled, his hair even more artistic than usual, his eyes hooded from sleep. Fraser shook his head, how could he call himself an investigator. This possibility had been under his nose, right before his face, he had overlooked it for days, months, years.

Ray shuffled in, wrapped in the down comforter his mother had shipped up when her son called to tell her he wasn’t coming back; a smile and cotton rag socks his only accessories, “You gotta quit it.”

Fraser nodded in agreement, dropping his journal carelessly, “Distract me?”

Climbing on the couch to straddle his lap, Ray winked, wrapping them both with his down filled extravagance, “You’re beautiful” he whispered, punctuating the sentiment with a gentle kiss. “Amazing” rocking his body against Fraser’s “brilliant” kiss “just a little slow.”

Fraser laughed even as waves of passion flushed his skin, his arms wrapping around his lover’s slim body, burying his nose against Ray’s golden throat. Breathing the scent of home, love, and the rise of need, his body arching instinctively, the weight of his arousal cradled against Ray’s.

“Sexy, hot Mountie, come to bed, yeah?” Ray winked as he pulled away, his hands pulling a willing Fraser with him, up and towards the bedroom.

Dief yawned and sprawled closer to the fireplace, his hind leg kicking at Fraser’s journal. The pages fluttering in disturbance before settling again.

…The clasp of Ray’s golden body is nothing short of heaven. I have no words short of amazing, perfection. Inadequate words are all I have to describe the humbling awe of our passion, the death and rebirth of my soul at our joining both horrifying and exalting. The strength and fragility of his lithe body second only to his soul. I didn’t know, both figuratively and literally I had no clue. And yet, I call myself a Detective.

due South

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 07:01:41 GMT

Title: Bootlegged
Author: ivegoth_asecret
Pairing: RayK/Fraser Preslash, RayK/Stella
Word Count: 1000, give or take
A/N: unbetaed, Ray character piece.

Ray frowned as Stella grasped his forearm. Looking down at her he was taken aback at the sweet smile on her face. That smile had disappeared during the final years of their marriage, a happy, soft smile that showed a faint dimple to the left of her mouth.

A wave of flustered confusion rolled over him as he remembered kissing that dimple. An action that had always made Stella giggle as her arms tightened around his neck, an action that she had pushed him away for later, telling him there was no dimple in her cheek, that it was his imagination; a subtle, biting insinuation that maybe too much was in his imagination.

As she smiled up at him a realization clicked into place, she only did this when Fraser was around, crowded into his personal space and touched him when his partner could see it, would have to see it. Hot shame made his jaw clench. She’d been playing him like some lowlife perp and he never knew it, hell, you never expect someone you love to treat you like a bad Clash bootleg. Bragging that you have it but never listening to it ‘cause it sounds like shit.

Patting her hand as he casually turned to invite Fraser to dinner, grateful when his partner accepted; his pained smile must have convinced Fraser something was up.

Moving from the precinct to the car to a casual restaurant that Stella liked was a blur as he felt like something was shifting in his head. Remembering and analyzing what he felt like were key elements of his life he sifted through the memories willing the bigger picture to emerge.

When Ray was fifteen he had a friend named John Dentono, Johnny D everybody called him. Thick black curls and olive colored skin and a kick ass rebuilt Indian motorcycle. They were buds, Ray was running track and Johnny was the star of the basketball team.

One day after school Johnny offered Ray a ride home on the back of his bike. Ray’s dad was on a “vacation”, him and the boss were drinking buddies who often got on the wrong side of each other over a bottle. Seeing his old man sitting on the stoop as they pulled up made Ray’s stomach clench; after an awkward introduction Johnny sped off and Ray was grateful his friend didn’t look back.

If he had he’d seen Damian Kowalski punch Ray so hard in the upper arm that it left a multicolored bruise that lasted for three weeks. If Johnny’s bike hadn’t been so loud he might have heard Mr. Kowalski shout “No son of mine rides bitch behind a wop.”

Ray had slept with an icepack that night and a lingering unease that he couldn’t figure out which was worse, bitch or wop. Detouring from school the next day he found himself in a rundown boxing gym. Sporting a bruise so deep he could hardly move his arm and a vague story about never knowing who might through a punch, the manager offered Ray a membership in exchange for pushing a broom and running for sandwiches. It wasn’t the last time Damian Kowalski hit Ray, but it was the last time Ray stood still while he took a punch.

Over dinner Stella tells the story of Ray defending her honor. They were seventeen and at the time broken up, Stella had hooked up with some jock asshole then shown up at a party to rub it in Ray’s face. After slow dancing with the creep, to what had been their song, Ray had been seething. Watching him grind up against Stella had felt like a knife in his gut, when he groped her ass Ray snapped and broke the guy’s nose.

Stella had blown him in the backseat of his car and swallowed when he came, his mother had freaked at the blood on his clothes, and his dad had taken him out to the garage and traded shots of vodka with him. Later when he realized his week old hangover was really plain old guilt eating away at his stomach Ray conned the guy’s address out of the school records office.

Finding out the guy lived just five blocks from him in a neighborhood and a house that looked just like Ray’s neighborhood and house was confusing. He’d figured Stella had picked him up at her dad’s country club. Talking his way past the mom was easy; talking to the guy whose face he had mangled was harder.

Over dessert Ray’s memories sparked an epiphany that he’d buried years ago. To Stella he was interchangeable with any other blue collar bum, maybe more tolerable than most, but just as replaceable as the carburetor on the goat. To his father he’d been disposable and not so tolerable; and Ray, well he’d liked being on the back of Johnny D’s bike.

Stella frowned disappointedly when Ray drove her home with Fraser in the back seat, thankfully Fraser pulled his ‘Mountie mask of obliviousness’ on and didn’t point out that the Consulate was closer than Stella’s condo.

Walking her to the door he murmured politely as she talked, the clicking of her heels reminding him of Dief nosing around his apartment kitchen. Pausing as she opened the door she smiled knowingly, “Why don’t you let Fraser drive himself home? We can have some wine and a spin around the living room.”

Ray smile ruefully, “Stell, you wrote me off your dance card.” The statement was as pointed as the goodbye kiss he placed on her cheek.

Turning to leave he wasn’t surprised when she wanted the last word. “Ray?” Grinning as he waved over his shoulder, “Gotta go, I’m double parked.” Just cause she wanted the last word didn’t mean she could have it. Jogging back down to the car he wasn’t surprised to see Fraser sitting in the front seat.

Shrugging at Fraser’s knowing smile he grinned, “Hey, you ever ride a motorcycle?”

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 13:16:13 GMT

Title: Mom Always Said to Wear Clean Underwear
Prompt: Superhero Challenge
written by:
rating: RayK (language)

Summery:

Ray tightened his grip, “Jezzus, when were you gonna tell me about this?”

Fraser pushed a little harder, enjoying the cold bite of air whipping around them, “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, Ray.”

Ray felt a hysterical giggle bubble out of his mouth, “Okay, not hiding it. But couldn’t you have picked a better way to tell me?”

Fraser shrugged as they descended, “Well, to be honest you seem to do better with showing instead of telling.”

Ray nodded as he gulped, he closed his eyes as they dropped through the clouds, “Fuck me, a flying Mountie” he grinned reaching up and pulling a lock of Fraser’s hair down on his forehead, “Just don’t tell me you can see my underwear.”

Fraser arched an eyebrow, “Pink?”

Ray chuckled, “Shows what you know, ain’t got any on.”

Fraser gave a wink as he tightened his hold around his partner’s chest, “I don’t need X-ray vision to know your ass is pink, Ray.”

Hat fic

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 16:38:21 GMT

Title: I'm not a Mountie, but I play one on TV.

I’m not a Mountie, but I play one on TV.

Fraser tried to shake off the odd sluggishness of Déjà vu, turning the corner he stepped into the bullpen. Feeling eyes on him as he approached Ray’s desk, his stomach began to knot, his hands shaking as he gripped his Stetson.

Two men were standing with there backs to him, the shorter one shaking his head as they whispered heatedly, snatches of conversation making Fraser swallow convulsively.

“I know it’s a weird assignment” the taller man frowned looking down at his partner.

“Weird, weird doesn’t have anything to do with it man. It’s wrong, we totally don’t fit, Jim.”

The taller man rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yeah, but we’re cops…”

“Besides, it feels wrong, how is this guy gonna tru…” the shorter man startled at Fraser’s presence.

Fraser looked down into the dark blue eyes, and then up into pale blue eyes, his gulp was frighteningly loud to every one in the room, “Excuse me, I’m looking for…”

The smaller man quickly cut him off, stepping closer and throwing an arm around Fraser’s back “Frase, long time no see man, how was the great frozen north?”

Fraser stared blankly up at the taller man “Ray?”

Sighing heavily the taller man murmured under his breath, “Sorry Fraser, but it’s just until they figure out how to keep you from losing your hat all the time.”

Fraser cringed, “but it doesn’t happen all the time.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it” the smaller man grinned up at him, “Jim looses his gun all the time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting bolt upright Fraser shuddered in disorientation, his breathing ragged as he fought his way out from under the bed covers.

“Frase, Fraser, buddy talk to me”

“Benny you’re having a nightmare”

Fraser looked wild-eyed around the moonlit bedroom, strong hands brushing his shoulders and back.

“I told ya not to put so much garlic in the linguine” Ray snapped at Ray.

“Hey you’re the one that made us stay up to watch that lame ass cop show marathon, Stanly” Ray growled.

“He’s not having nightmares from staying up late, everyone knows indigestion gives you nightmares, Raymond” Ray growled his hand reaching around Fraser to push at Ray “and don’t call me Stanly.”

Ray snorted as he reached to pull Ray closer, his arms wrapping around Fraser at the same time, “You weren’t complaining a few hours ago when you were suck-”

Ray purred as he pushed closer to Ray, squeezing Fraser tightly between the two of them, “Fraser always says not to talk with my mouth full.”

Fraser smiled as he relaxed back into bed, pulling his partners down with him, “thank goodness” he murmured as mouths fought for his own and callused hands stroked over his skin

On a chair in the corner of the room hung a properly pristine, perfectly pressed, practically polished Stetson, its eyelets winking in the moonlight.

The Sentinel: Done

Mon, 28 Jan 2008 14:43:11 GMT

“Well, we’re done.” Blair said throwing his backpack on the kitchen island.

“Done?” Jim jerked back, clenching his beer bottle tightly.

“Out of time, out of luck, stick a fork in us, done.” Blair grinned as he rolled his shoulders.

“Luck, time? That’s what this was to you?” Jim slammed the bottle down.

Blair winced as beer foamed up, “Geez, Jim. Mellow out.” He grabbed a towel and began to mop up the mess.

“Mellow out?” Jim hissed, “You’re telling me to mellow out?”

Blair frowned wringing out the towel over the kitchen sink, “Man, what is up with you? I thought you’d be happy.”

Jim stalked towards him, ripping the wet towel out of his hands and throwing it, “Maybe I don’t want it to be over, Sandburg.”

Blair felt a smile tug at his lips, he pushed closer into Jim’s personal space, “Well, to bad Big Guy, you don’t have a say.”

Jim clenched his jaw, grabbing Blair’s biceps, “That… that’s not fair,” Blair could see the panic begin to set in, “I should have some say, it can’t be over just like that.”

Blair frowned, “I’m sorry Jim, maybe if you’d said something before.”

Jim flinched, “I know, you’re right. I… it just… wrong time, Chief please” his eyes wide and round.

Blair stroked his shoulder, “Man, I never knew how you felt, I mean I still don’t… not really” he hedged. It was really hard not to laugh at Jim’s guppy imitation, but he managed to keep a straight face.

Jim pulled him to his chest, his voice husky and raw, “You know how I feel, Blair.” Blair shivered in the tight embrace, “See, you feel the same way” Jim whispered, pulling their hips together, “Don’t deny it, I can smell it. You don’t smell like that for anyone else anymore.” Blair blinked up owlish, his lids beginning to droop. Jim smirked, running his hand down Blair’s back to squeeze his ass “Come on, baby, let me show you how good it can be.”

Blair moaned, his mouth dropping open as Jim brushed his lips over Blair’s, dipping his tongue in that lush mouth. Blair melted against him, his hands coming to rest on Jim’s hips, only breaking the kiss to come up for air. He looked up into Jim’s glazed eyes, black with passion, his nostrils flared, rolling his hips against Blair. Blair shuddered, “You mean it Jim, really?”

“I promise Blair, stay, let me love you like this all the time. I’ll be better, no more wonderburgers, I’ll meditate with you” his voice faltering as Blair slid his hand down to brush against his straining cock, “oh… my… oh… yeah, anything you want baby.”

“Really? Anything? Wow.” Blair grinned as he slid down to his knees, nipping the perfect chiseled chest and abs on his way down, Jim’s eyes rolled back in his head, he gasped as Blair began to open his jeans. Blair nuzzled and nipped through the fabric, he scented the musky smell of Jim mixed with the beer still clinging to his hands. Jim wove his fingers into those long dark curls, cupping Blair’s skull, he bit his lip as Blair freed his erection, locking his knees in anticipation. Blair stroked and fondled, blowing across the heated flesh. Jim whined in desperation, “killing me, Chief, please.”

Blair hummed and swallowed Jim in one quick movement. Jim’s hips snapped as he howled, Blair laughed around his mouthful while gripping Jim’s thighs. Jim came undone as Blair’s mouth worked him over, prying his eyes open to look down, his stomach tightening at the sight of Blair on his knees, nursing him through the aftershocks.

Blair sighed softly before stopping, he looked up and smiled at his dazed sentinel. Jim ran his thumb over his swollen red lips, “Blair” he murmured.

Blair felt himself flush at the loving tone of Jim’s voice. Jim smiled pulling Blair up, kissing him, “I do love you.”

Blair grinned, “Yeah, me too. But I’m still done,” Jim frowned, shaking his head, as Blair continued, “Yep, Fall break, no classes for 2 weeks.” He began laughing as realization dawned on Jim.

“Damn it, Sandburg.” Jim glared until his lips began to twitch.

“Oh, back to Sandburg are we” Blair laughed, “I knew I should have gotten it in writing.” Jim shrugged pulling him closer, a small smile playing on his lips, “I’ll still quit Wonderburger, Chief.”

Blair cupped his chin, pulling him close enough to kiss, “Nah, I wouldn’t want anything to change the way you taste.”

Blair yelped as the world tilted and he found himself hanging over Jim’s back, bouncing as Jim took the stairs two at a time up to his bed, “Now that I want in writing, Chief.”

Due South: Snow on the Brain

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 00:10:40 GMT

Title: Snow on the Brain
Prompt: Hat Prompt
Rating:

Ray sat, loose limbed and sprawled behind Fraser’s desk. His posture at odds with the tight thrumming of his blood, snickering at his own morbid sense of humor, marriage had taught him more about undercover work than any day on the job. Sheer will power alone kept him from having a hard on right now, his fingers rough against the thick beaver felt of a perfectly pressed Stetson.

It should feel prickly and stiff, but it doesn’t. It feels smooth and… pliable. Much like Ray suspects Fraser would feel pressed underneath his own body. Shaking his head at the thought he closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring with a deep breath. Pulling the smell of wool, oil, cedar and “Mountie” into his body, his brain.

It should smell like a musty old hat, it should smell like moth balls and Chicago smog, but it doesn’t. It smells like Fraser, and duty…however that’s possible Ray doesn’t know. Flipping it over and rubbing the sweat stained leather band, Ray idly wonders if this is what the Northwest Territories smells like, if the combination of Fraser-sweat and Canadian cologne is what real snow would smell like. Clean and sharp, giving you that light-headed rush of air that’s too cold, too clean for your lungs to work with.

His eyes coming into focus on Fraser standing in front of the desk, calling his name, “Ray, so sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem, you get all the little Mounties squared away for the night?” Ray can’t help but smirk at Fraser’s fake frown, he can tell its fake, the skin between Fraser’s eyebrows is smooth.

“Inspector Thatcher has most graciously given me tomorrow off in order to attend to the stake out.”

Ray pulled a serious face, “Ah.”

Fraser couldn’t keep the slight pull in his cheek as he nodded in agreement, looking pointedly at his Stetson.

Ray shrugged, rolling it over by the brim, “Just trying to get to know the man beneath the brim.”

Fraser gave his own version of a smirk, the gleam in his eyes a challenge to the speculation in his partners “Well then, when you’re ready to get to know the man under the Serge” he leaned forward to pluck his Stetson from slack fingers, “let me know.”

Ray bounced on his feet as he followed Fraser out of the consulate, the Stetson might smell like snow, but he was sure Fraser’s skin would burn like ice.