[ Yes, it should be a happy occasion. Ray would be happily married and Fraser would have his partner all to himself. Maybe they'd never be sharing nights in the wilderness again, pressed into each other's arms to keep the cold out, but their partnership could only become stronger than ever. He just had to see the silver lining--which would be more possible if he wasn't too busy staring at the ground, and actually looked Ray in the eye instead.
He tries for levity. It doesn't work out so well. ]
I'd rather hoped you would be all over me, Ray.
[ He said it distractedly, as though it had an entirely different meaning--which to Fraser it of course did. He meant 'Catch me if I fall', obviously, and chewed his way around the thick Chicago style crust of his pizza. He'd once told Ray that there was enough food in just one thirteen inch pie to feed a whole family of Inuit people, and yet between them and Diefenbaker they tended to clear two boxes easily. Maybe living in Chicago just made him hungrier--or it was the lack of pemmican in his diet. Either way, he ate his fair share.
When Ray settled back down, Fraser squinted at some of the bottles, trying to remember from the incident with his grandfather's liquor cabinet what tasted like what. He'd used the information since - you could find a wealth of information licking shoes and tables and bar counters and... But which flavors did he actually like? That was much more debatable. He settled on the black rum, unscrewing the tiny lid and raising it up for an overpowering sniff. Even the smell of it might make him tipsy. His eyebrows flicked toward his hairline, and then, preparing himself with a fierce grimace, he drained the bottle.
And coughed. And choked. And then coughed again until tears pricked his blue eyes. His throat had closed up, he could barely speak, but he managed to get out: ]
no subject
He tries for levity. It doesn't work out so well. ]
I'd rather hoped you would be all over me, Ray.
[ He said it distractedly, as though it had an entirely different meaning--which to Fraser it of course did. He meant 'Catch me if I fall', obviously, and chewed his way around the thick Chicago style crust of his pizza. He'd once told Ray that there was enough food in just one thirteen inch pie to feed a whole family of Inuit people, and yet between them and Diefenbaker they tended to clear two boxes easily. Maybe living in Chicago just made him hungrier--or it was the lack of pemmican in his diet. Either way, he ate his fair share.
When Ray settled back down, Fraser squinted at some of the bottles, trying to remember from the incident with his grandfather's liquor cabinet what tasted like what. He'd used the information since - you could find a wealth of information licking shoes and tables and bar counters and... But which flavors did he actually like? That was much more debatable. He settled on the black rum, unscrewing the tiny lid and raising it up for an overpowering sniff. Even the smell of it might make him tipsy. His eyebrows flicked toward his hairline, and then, preparing himself with a fierce grimace, he drained the bottle.
And coughed. And choked. And then coughed again until tears pricked his blue eyes. His throat had closed up, he could barely speak, but he managed to get out: ]
That was just as awful as I remembered.