[ It suits somehow. In real everyday human life Fraser is the one with the plan, and here it's Ray overthinking it. That's fine. They function as much as reflections of each other in so many things that it makes sense that that would extend to romance too, and in fact it's probably safer--god knows it would pull Fraser back from the brink of doing some really stupid things just because instinct told him to, and that was probably for the best.
But not all the things. And not everything had to be planned and thought about either, and he'd show Ray that it was okay, that he really could dance and kiss and make love without worrying excessively about what it meant the whole time. (And okay, Fraser had brought it up, but if they'd been working by Fraser's schedule in the reception room then they'd have probably have been ass naked in what was left of the wedding cake by now.)
There was so much brightness returning to his eyes now that he'd let hope back in. The fear was subsiding, because now that Ray had agreed to his suggestion of going somewhere more private, what was there left to be afraid of, except for the whole actually getting to do half the things he was thinking about doing? But he was high on emotion, on happiness, on partnership, and he was smiling more than he'd ever let himself smile for more than five seconds at a time, and the full power of it was turned straight on Ray as he led him backward again, navigating the crowd and reaching up to curl his other hand into the hair at the back of Ray's neck just as his back hit the swing doors.
He pulled Ray into a kiss as he took the next step, and by the next the doors were closing behind them and his other hand had released Ray's hand, making the process of walking a little more awkward as he pulled the other man against him, and somewhere behind him was the elevator. He'd known how many steps it took to reach it before, but now it seemed to take twice as many.
That was fine. The longer it took to reach the elevator, the more time he had to dig into the kiss.
As before, Fraser went for his safe middle ground, for a kiss that was as passionate as it was urgent, rather than leaning too far one way or the other. He didn't know exactly how long he'd need to draw it out, and besides this time it was complicated by movement, which bumped their chests and knees and hips together awkwardly and made him step on Ray's foot once before he managed to let go his grip on Ray's elbow and punch the call button. This was dancing. Awful bad wonderful dancing.
This time, there was no holding back, no waiting for an answer or expecting Ray to push him away - although the possibility was obviously on the cards - and Fraser justified himself that really it wasn't his fault. He'd followed Ray's rules of logic long enough; he'd only brushed a kiss against his mouth woodenly in front of Vecchio's wedding guests, and he hadn't declared he loved him in so many words - unless declarations of joint sleeping bag purchasing was the equivalent of Romeo and Juliet now - and now it was Ray's turn to submit to the alternative view, to passion and follow through and no real direction so long as they were moving, which it turned out Fraser could do that just as well as Ray could, only this time with his tongue, and teeth, and somehow perfectly balanced so as not to bump heads with him and knock them both for six.
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But not all the things. And not everything had to be planned and thought about either, and he'd show Ray that it was okay, that he really could dance and kiss and make love without worrying excessively about what it meant the whole time. (And okay, Fraser had brought it up, but if they'd been working by Fraser's schedule in the reception room then they'd have probably have been ass naked in what was left of the wedding cake by now.)
There was so much brightness returning to his eyes now that he'd let hope back in. The fear was subsiding, because now that Ray had agreed to his suggestion of going somewhere more private, what was there left to be afraid of, except for the whole actually getting to do half the things he was thinking about doing? But he was high on emotion, on happiness, on partnership, and he was smiling more than he'd ever let himself smile for more than five seconds at a time, and the full power of it was turned straight on Ray as he led him backward again, navigating the crowd and reaching up to curl his other hand into the hair at the back of Ray's neck just as his back hit the swing doors.
He pulled Ray into a kiss as he took the next step, and by the next the doors were closing behind them and his other hand had released Ray's hand, making the process of walking a little more awkward as he pulled the other man against him, and somewhere behind him was the elevator. He'd known how many steps it took to reach it before, but now it seemed to take twice as many.
That was fine. The longer it took to reach the elevator, the more time he had to dig into the kiss.
As before, Fraser went for his safe middle ground, for a kiss that was as passionate as it was urgent, rather than leaning too far one way or the other. He didn't know exactly how long he'd need to draw it out, and besides this time it was complicated by movement, which bumped their chests and knees and hips together awkwardly and made him step on Ray's foot once before he managed to let go his grip on Ray's elbow and punch the call button. This was dancing. Awful bad wonderful dancing.
This time, there was no holding back, no waiting for an answer or expecting Ray to push him away - although the possibility was obviously on the cards - and Fraser justified himself that really it wasn't his fault. He'd followed Ray's rules of logic long enough; he'd only brushed a kiss against his mouth woodenly in front of Vecchio's wedding guests, and he hadn't declared he loved him in so many words - unless declarations of joint sleeping bag purchasing was the equivalent of Romeo and Juliet now - and now it was Ray's turn to submit to the alternative view, to passion and follow through and no real direction so long as they were moving, which it turned out Fraser could do that just as well as Ray could, only this time with his tongue, and teeth, and somehow perfectly balanced so as not to bump heads with him and knock them both for six.
The doors dinged open behind him. ]