[Fraser's edging back, closer to Vecchio, reaching for the table like he can't quite support himself and fumbling with his words like he's suddenly uncertain of himself and the scenario. He's not the only one. Ray's not sure what the hell is going on either. In minutes it's gone from Kowalski trying to back away from accusatory tones and the gaze of Vecchio, to him advancing on the very Mountie he was cringing away from moments before. The tension in the locked room has risen ridiculously high, an electric sort of heat in the air and the quiet thrum of quickened heartbeats and low pants of breath.
He watches the two before him with slightly parted lips, Vecchio slinking in far too close behind the Mountie and staring at Stanley like he's trying to egg him on, encouraging whatever else they can get from this. Kowalski's not sure how far he dares to push himself, or push Fraser, but that look from the Mountie is impossible to ignore, pleading and oddly irresistible and Ray's pretty sure that looks is asking him to stop but he's not entirely sure he can. This is it. This is what he's been dreaming of all those months and years, of having the Mountie in a situation where Kowalski could just lean in and gather a soft touch, a steal of breath or perhaps even a chaste kiss. This was one of the names he'd gasped out only days before when Vecchio was on him. This fucking Mountie had been the man they'd both been venting their frustrations over, and now here he was sandwiched between them and looking just a little lost.]
Just let it go.
[Murmured, repeated after Vecchio's little speech that reminds Stan way too much of their rough afternoon, letting everything go between them. This time he can't be sure if he's reassuring himself with those four words or reassuring Fraser, but he finds himself inhaling just a little bit sharper and exhaling just a little bit heavier, panting thanks to the increased heartbeat and thrumming anxiety that's bunching up like a knot in his stomach and gripping too tightly around his heart.
He can do this.
Do or die. No going back. He'd already fucked up his chances of staring at Vecchio in any normal capacity again, might as well go all out and try his chances with Fraser too, right?
Grow some fucking balls, Kowalski.
With another shuddering inhale he steps in and leans forward, closing that final gap between himself and the Canadian, ducking just enough to get under that brim. One of his final views is Vecchio, catching his gaze swiftly before switching it to Fraser lips, lashes fluttering lower as he goes for his target. It's chaste but lingering, his lips barely brushing Benton's but remaining there as if he's afraid to pull back. It's not exactly the roughhousing of Vecchio's words, but Stanley had to be sure. Had to know he could do this and that Fraser wouldn't bolt the second he forced himself forward.]
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He watches the two before him with slightly parted lips, Vecchio slinking in far too close behind the Mountie and staring at Stanley like he's trying to egg him on, encouraging whatever else they can get from this. Kowalski's not sure how far he dares to push himself, or push Fraser, but that look from the Mountie is impossible to ignore, pleading and oddly irresistible and Ray's pretty sure that looks is asking him to stop but he's not entirely sure he can. This is it. This is what he's been dreaming of all those months and years, of having the Mountie in a situation where Kowalski could just lean in and gather a soft touch, a steal of breath or perhaps even a chaste kiss. This was one of the names he'd gasped out only days before when Vecchio was on him. This fucking Mountie had been the man they'd both been venting their frustrations over, and now here he was sandwiched between them and looking just a little lost.]
Just let it go.
[Murmured, repeated after Vecchio's little speech that reminds Stan way too much of their rough afternoon, letting everything go between them. This time he can't be sure if he's reassuring himself with those four words or reassuring Fraser, but he finds himself inhaling just a little bit sharper and exhaling just a little bit heavier, panting thanks to the increased heartbeat and thrumming anxiety that's bunching up like a knot in his stomach and gripping too tightly around his heart.
He can do this.
Do or die. No going back. He'd already fucked up his chances of staring at Vecchio in any normal capacity again, might as well go all out and try his chances with Fraser too, right?
Grow some fucking balls, Kowalski.
With another shuddering inhale he steps in and leans forward, closing that final gap between himself and the Canadian, ducking just enough to get under that brim. One of his final views is Vecchio, catching his gaze swiftly before switching it to Fraser lips, lashes fluttering lower as he goes for his target. It's chaste but lingering, his lips barely brushing Benton's but remaining there as if he's afraid to pull back. It's not exactly the roughhousing of Vecchio's words, but Stanley had to be sure. Had to know he could do this and that Fraser wouldn't bolt the second he forced himself forward.]