[ There was a flare of jealousy - just the briefest - at the idea of Ray taking his fall for him, dancing with Francesca so that he could escape. And wouldn't that be a thing? After all Ray had been Francesca's brother for more than a year, and while he'd known his partner had been initially attracted to her, they'd fought like Vecchios ever since. Now, Francesca was Ray Vecchio's sister again, and just another girl to Stanley Kowalski. And why shouldn't they hook up? They were both single, they already knew each other, and Fraser's reservations about sleeping with his best friend's sister didn't apply to Ray.
But it made him jealous, and that was a bad sign. Like the next 24 hours were going to be hell to get through, whether he was spending time with other people or simply in his own company.
His mood stirred slightly at Ray's story, and he glanced up at him. ] You never told me about that.
[ It couldn't have been his wedding, after all Ray was a cop, and he had to have been to dozens of these sorts of events. They were unavoidable in social circles. Which means that the bridal suite he'd woken up with also wasn't his own, and leant something risque to the entire affair. They were arriving, though; when they turned right into the arching driveway in front of the ostentatious wedding venue, the gravel crunched under the Firestone tyres of the Pontiac. Fraser could feel Ray slowing down to a crawl to protect the paintjob, but gravel was gravel, and even he flinched with every ding and audible flick of stones flung out of the treads.
But they were here, and parking beside the dozens of other cars, and a porter in conspicuous red was already on the way over to fetch their luggage, though he froze halfway across the concourse when Diefenbaker jumped out of the front of the car after Fraser. Having closed the door, he leaned down to peer into the still open window. ]
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But it made him jealous, and that was a bad sign. Like the next 24 hours were going to be hell to get through, whether he was spending time with other people or simply in his own company.
His mood stirred slightly at Ray's story, and he glanced up at him. ] You never told me about that.
[ It couldn't have been his wedding, after all Ray was a cop, and he had to have been to dozens of these sorts of events. They were unavoidable in social circles. Which means that the bridal suite he'd woken up with also wasn't his own, and leant something risque to the entire affair. They were arriving, though; when they turned right into the arching driveway in front of the ostentatious wedding venue, the gravel crunched under the Firestone tyres of the Pontiac. Fraser could feel Ray slowing down to a crawl to protect the paintjob, but gravel was gravel, and even he flinched with every ding and audible flick of stones flung out of the treads.
But they were here, and parking beside the dozens of other cars, and a porter in conspicuous red was already on the way over to fetch their luggage, though he froze halfway across the concourse when Diefenbaker jumped out of the front of the car after Fraser. Having closed the door, he leaned down to peer into the still open window. ]
Ray? Shall we?