[ Fraser glances up at that. Maybe I won't wear it again, and he knows the deeper meaning behind it all, that the suit will come to represent something he can't get back; it'd sit in the back of Ray's closet and look morose and unhappy and mock him until he eventually realised it still stank of stale wedding cake and had motheaten sleeves and it got dropped in a charity box to be turned into mulch.
But he had an idea, and he glanced back across at Ray as he unpacked his breeches, sliding them on over his legs one at a time. His eyes raked appreciatively down his friend's body while he wasn't looking, but Fraser didn't look away when Ray's attention came back to him either, just steadied his gaze and smiled. ]
After the reception starts, we should go. Not too far, but we should go. Do something spontaneous, or dangerous; something we've never done before.
[ He was hoping something would occur to him when the time came, but whatever it was it had to be outrageous. If they did something mad enough, then it would be the incident they remembered more clearly than the rest of the wedding; for example, when they'd been pursuing three men from the FBI's ten most wanted list, it hadn't been the pursuit he remembered, or the moment when the criminals outfoxed them both and started firing--it had been the moment when he and Ray had both scarpered for the edge of the roof, bullets ricocheting around them, and leapt almost seventy feet into the water below. That was the part he remembered.
Well, that and Ray socking him in the jaw.
Fraser pulled on the white undershirt and tucked it in, then attached the straps that crossed his shoulders. The boots came next, because the starched collar of the tunic would be excruciating if he spent the next ten minutes leaning forward to lace them up. For this, he cleared the bed somewhat, sitting carefully beside Ray's suit. He shucked on first one boot, then the other and began the tedious process of lacing them tightly closed. ]
no subject
But he had an idea, and he glanced back across at Ray as he unpacked his breeches, sliding them on over his legs one at a time. His eyes raked appreciatively down his friend's body while he wasn't looking, but Fraser didn't look away when Ray's attention came back to him either, just steadied his gaze and smiled. ]
After the reception starts, we should go. Not too far, but we should go. Do something spontaneous, or dangerous; something we've never done before.
[ He was hoping something would occur to him when the time came, but whatever it was it had to be outrageous. If they did something mad enough, then it would be the incident they remembered more clearly than the rest of the wedding; for example, when they'd been pursuing three men from the FBI's ten most wanted list, it hadn't been the pursuit he remembered, or the moment when the criminals outfoxed them both and started firing--it had been the moment when he and Ray had both scarpered for the edge of the roof, bullets ricocheting around them, and leapt almost seventy feet into the water below. That was the part he remembered.
Well, that and Ray socking him in the jaw.
Fraser pulled on the white undershirt and tucked it in, then attached the straps that crossed his shoulders. The boots came next, because the starched collar of the tunic would be excruciating if he spent the next ten minutes leaning forward to lace them up. For this, he cleared the bed somewhat, sitting carefully beside Ray's suit. He shucked on first one boot, then the other and began the tedious process of lacing them tightly closed. ]
What do you think?