[Ray had needed those days off. Needed them for physical and mental recovery after the time he'd spent with Vecchio. He'd barely moved from his bed that first day other than to shower repeatedly, trying to get the smell of sweat and sex and Ray off him, because it's all he could smell. All he could think of. All he could see when he closed his eyes. And wasn't that just fucked up? Everything about that night and that afternoon had been fucked up, and he'd naturally almost punched a hole through one of his apartment walls just in pure frustration. He'd been angry. And horny. He'd been angry that he was horny.
The second day was much the same as the first, although he'd escaped his apartment in the vague hope of taking his mind off the whole situation, finding it really hard to forget when he could barely move without flinching from some injury. He could barely walk, barely sit, barely turn, barely do anything a normal functioning adult could do. He wasn't ready for Fraser calling him, but he couldn't say no. Welsh needed him back and Fraser was requesting follow ups on a case and Kowalski didn't want to be that guy who couldn't even help his partner out.
The excuse he came up with for the sheer amount of injuries he'd sustained was an easy one. He'd got a little over eager at the boxing club he'd gone too. Upset the wrong guy. So maybe they did wail on him a little too hard, but it was all in the ring, fair was fair. Yeah, they'd laid him out flat, he took a few falls, maybe he'd bruised his coccyx- whatever that was. Fraser had seen Ray in the ring before, had seen him against a much bigger guy and had seen how sore he was after that. It should be believable enough and Ray was pretty good at covering up when he needed to. Lies were sometimes essential, no matter what the Mountie thought.
Kowalski's grateful when Fraser doesn't push the matter, and he's oddly grateful that the Mountie can talk some boring shit about whales that Ray couldn't give two shits about. It's like normal. It's like the days before Vecchio.
Speaking of... yeah. That's not Stanley's desk any more. But it is Ray's, and Ray's there looking like he'd taken a few too many hits in the ring too, but still greeting the two of them like nothing is up. The second Ray says Kowalski's name, he's dropping his gaze, grunting a vague greeting in return and hoping his awkwardness is covered by his general dislike and reluctance to speak too much to Vecchio.
His downcast gaze misses some of Fraser's thoughtfulness, of his possible realisation, but Ray doesn't miss that tone. The tone that had him snapping his gaze back up, looking towards the Mountie with brows furrowed in curiosity. What's his problem? Does he think they'd been fighting? Or...?]
Both us alone? What even is that? C'mon, Fraser, we got work to do.
[Complaints or not, Ray isn't going to decline a request. Especially not when Fraser's looking like that. If Fraser wants to speak in private, it's very likely something he doesn't want said in public.
no subject
The second day was much the same as the first, although he'd escaped his apartment in the vague hope of taking his mind off the whole situation, finding it really hard to forget when he could barely move without flinching from some injury. He could barely walk, barely sit, barely turn, barely do anything a normal functioning adult could do. He wasn't ready for Fraser calling him, but he couldn't say no. Welsh needed him back and Fraser was requesting follow ups on a case and Kowalski didn't want to be that guy who couldn't even help his partner out.
The excuse he came up with for the sheer amount of injuries he'd sustained was an easy one. He'd got a little over eager at the boxing club he'd gone too. Upset the wrong guy. So maybe they did wail on him a little too hard, but it was all in the ring, fair was fair. Yeah, they'd laid him out flat, he took a few falls, maybe he'd bruised his coccyx- whatever that was. Fraser had seen Ray in the ring before, had seen him against a much bigger guy and had seen how sore he was after that. It should be believable enough and Ray was pretty good at covering up when he needed to. Lies were sometimes essential, no matter what the Mountie thought.
Kowalski's grateful when Fraser doesn't push the matter, and he's oddly grateful that the Mountie can talk some boring shit about whales that Ray couldn't give two shits about. It's like normal. It's like the days before Vecchio.
Speaking of... yeah. That's not Stanley's desk any more. But it is Ray's, and Ray's there looking like he'd taken a few too many hits in the ring too, but still greeting the two of them like nothing is up. The second Ray says Kowalski's name, he's dropping his gaze, grunting a vague greeting in return and hoping his awkwardness is covered by his general dislike and reluctance to speak too much to Vecchio.
His downcast gaze misses some of Fraser's thoughtfulness, of his possible realisation, but Ray doesn't miss that tone. The tone that had him snapping his gaze back up, looking towards the Mountie with brows furrowed in curiosity. What's his problem? Does he think they'd been fighting? Or...?]
Both us alone? What even is that? C'mon, Fraser, we got work to do.
[Complaints or not, Ray isn't going to decline a request. Especially not when Fraser's looking like that. If Fraser wants to speak in private, it's very likely something he doesn't want said in public.
Fuck...]