Benton Fraser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dogsled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thelockbox2014-07-06 10:57 pm
dogsled) wrote in thelockbox2014-07-06 10:57 pm
Benton Fraser | Due South
 BENTON FRASER。 | |
"You know, Fraser, when they offered me this assignment, they made it sound kind of normal. They say, 'Hey, Ray, here's a chance to start over, ditch the past.' 'What's the catch?' I say. 'Oh, your partner's Canadian.' Canadian? I got nothing against Canadians, except for the time when they won the World Series, which I'm willing to overlook. But at no time did they say, 'you'll be working with a Mountie who's got a wolf that's a florist'" |
NEW READ JOURNAL CREDIT |
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It had nearly driven Vecchio crazy in the end. He'd been torn with the Vegas job - on the one hand, it scared the shit out of him, but on the other it was the opportunity to finally get out from under Fraser's shadow and prove he was a good cop; that he could do the job. In the end Fraser had shown up and ruined a year of work, and surprise surprise taken all the glory while Ray lay in hospital with a bullet in his chest. That was just the way his life worked out.
In some ways, Stella was the consolation prize. Though never would he ever really mean that She was no consolation; she was everything he wanted--everything he'd ever wanted. Beautiful, hard, funny, clever, well dressed, successful. She scared him a little, but he liked that. She wasn't Fraser, but god only knew Ray didn't want her to be. He had hardly been able to stand being around Fraser as his partner, he'd be insufferable to have to take home with him as well. No. He loved Fraser, but god only knew that was where it stayed.
And if Kowalski wanted that then he was crazier than Vecchio had thought. He shook his head slowly at the lack of commitment to any kind of anti-Mountie guerrilla warfare, at Stanley's almost ridiculous grin like he thought Ray was like one of those adorable kids who came up and asked why mommy was eating daddy's face. Ask a stupid question. But then the conversation was changing, and Ray was smiling back toward Stella wistfully. He only had eyes for her. ]
She figures what's a wedding without a Mountie threatening to hunt her to the grave. Besides, she owes Fraser one for today, so he gets a pass.
[ Which was what he really wanted to talk about. He raised his hand and rubbed the knuckles of his fist into his own eyebrow. ]
You know, she's real happy you came. She thought you wouldn't want to, but... I know she still loves you, I don't think she'll ever stop. She told me so this morning.
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Except... Except there's Vecchio standing there and saying she still loves Stanley and he's not sure whether to laugh or punch the guy in the face. Or maybe find a corner to cry in for the next few hours.
Stella still loved him. God, he'd waited to hear that for years and yet now it was a virtually useless piece of information. Knowing it changed nothing. He loved her and she loved him but they both knew that it'd never worked. They'd try to make it work for twenty-odd years and if they couldn't do it then, then what difference would a few more years do? Today had already made him realise that he could never give her what she wanted, that his life of dirty streets, greasy engines and love for kicking things was never going to meet her Gold Coast Girl standards. He's spent his whole childhood lying to impress her and he just couldn't keep that charade up forever. Vecchio, though? Vecchio was classy, he liked expensive things and knew how to treat a women right, and as much as Stanley might hate to admit it, Vecchio was a good guy. Maybe, just maybe, he was the better choice after all.]
Don't.
[A single word, sharp to his ears as he finally dares to look towards Stella, lingering there for only a second before his attention switches to Fraser. Benton Fraser, the one person who'd stood by him through thick and thin. The one person who could deal with every bit of him. The one person he didn't have to lie to to impress, where he could be himself no matter. Maybe he wasn't such a bad choice after all, handsome as he was in that casual get up, blushing as he's surrounded by swooning women (nice try, ladies, but you've got no chance), and looking far too humbled by everything around him.
It's that sight of Fraser, not Stella, that finally gets Ray smiling again as he looks back to Vecchio, shrugging a single shoulder lop-sidedly.]
Guess I only came out of curiosity. And maybe to keep a certain Mountie in line- although I sure as hell failed at that. But uh. He's right, y'know. What he said. Maybe not about huntin' Stella to her grave, but about me and him going off back to Canada. And uh. Maybe some of the other stuff.
He's gonna miss you. More than you think.
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Wow.
He blinked a little harder, then again, caught staring at Stanley as he got out that last bit about Fraser missing him, and honestly for a second it was Ray himself who considered punching the other guy in the face on his wedding day because Christ, what a thing to say.
It was revenge, he realised. Revenge for taking Stella away, revenge for letting Stanley know that she still cared for him. He was taking Fraser away, and now Stanley was going to tell him just how much that was going to hurt.
It was going to hurt. More than it was already sort of hurting. He hadn't been Fraser's partner for almost two years now, but he still missed it, and he'd miss it more when he couldn't even drop in at the Consulate and see the guy. They'd be thousands of miles away from each other, lucky to ever see each other again - maybe for the rest of their lives. Yes, damn it, he was going to miss Fraser. More than Stella was going to miss Ray, that was for sure. He felt a little bit sick.
Nice move, Kowalski. Real slick. ]
I know. [ He said at last. He sounded as sad as he felt. ] I'm gonna miss him too. [ His finger and thumb pressed into the bridge of his nose. He wasn't going to cry. That was idiotic. ] You uh... Maybe you ought to save him, huh? That girl hovering behind Stella is my second cousin Elouise. She's a maneater. I mean--she gets her hands on him and it's all over.
[ Whether or not that was true really didn't matter. He just didn't want Stanley to see him so upset. ]
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The tone is obvious enough, sad, maybe slightly regretful, and Stanley's oddly glad to hear it because it means Vecchio still has a fucking heart in there somewhere. It's tempting to push it further, to step away from Stella and her love and instead speak of the Mountie's ridiculous infatuations, but this is Ray's wedding day and even Stanley can't quite bring himself to be that much of a dick.
And so he takes he cue given, gaze still over at Benton as he hears the tale spun about this man eating cousin and nods dutifully along to it.]
I guess I should rescue him before she gets her hands on him, then.
[Because he didn't want to see Ray cry any more than Ray wanted to cry in front of him. It's just not what guys like them did. The plate in his hand gets placed aside and he realises he's barely had a chance to eat, but he's not so sure he's got any appetite left anyway. Vecchio did a damn good job of getting rid of that, and between him and the urge to run off with Fraser, Stanley's got his mind on other things now. Food could come later when he's not being watched by hundreds of eyes and having to tread carefully at his ex's wedding.]
Maybe we'll see you later, yeah?
[We. Plural. Fraser was part of that now and he sure as hell wants to be sure Fraser gets to say his proper goodbyes, even if the Mountie might try and avoid it. And so with that he's twisting away towards the lengthy table, off towards Benton and Stella and a handful of giggling women. Off to rescue his Mountie friend from the evil clutches of made up maneaters and his ex wife.]
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Sure enough, Stella had started pointing out all the other eligible young women around the room, much to Francesca's annoyance, beckoning the occasional one over. Soon enough he'd drawn a crowd, and Fraser had found himself squirming in the seat, eager to flee.
One of Stella's cousins had seemed appalled - and obviously she hadn't been paying any attention during the speech or the subsequent snogging - to discover that there was purportedly no-one special in Fraser's life already. To which he'd decided to take a stand and pointed out that in fact there was, and that he and Ray were in fact very serious about each other thank you very much. He'd made it sound like more than it was: "He loves me, and I him," in an effort to permanently dissuade them, but found himself blushing at the lie as he looked up, finding both Rays looking over toward him at the same time. Oh, he hoped Stanley would forgive him.
He just wished he could hear what they were talking about, but with the women clamoring and swooning at him it was almost impossible to hear. He made out the word Stella, though; Ray's mouth shaped the name a certain way.
Still, it seemed even blatant declarations of love didn't cut it with this crowd. Maybe it was a Vecchio family thing, but one of his cousins had managed to wind an arm around his and was trying to urge him to come and dance with her. This, Fraser knew, was the beginning of a slippery slope, and he had no desire to be thrown around like some Amazonian sacrifice. Surprisingly it wasn't Stanley who saved him but Francesca, who snapped out of her bad mood at the last second and smacked Elouise's hand off him. ]
Get it through your head, genius. He's gay. If he's going to dance with anyone it's going to be Mr. Kowalski.
[ She said it overloud, and Fraser grimaced, and Stella suddenly burst out laughing and had to grab hold of a bridesmaid to keep herself upright in her chair--how was this her wedding? And Fraser, spotting his escape, excused himself quickly, attaching himself to Mr. Kowalski's arm. ]
I'm sorry, Ray, [ He said, quickly. ] I appear to have done irreparable damage to our reputation. Well--to your reputation, mostly.
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It never stopped being funny, seeing his friend blushing at the hands of over eager women, and he can't even feel jealous about it when he's fairly certain he'll still get Benton at the end of it all. Which was actually an exceptionally weird thought to cross his mind, he realises, because only a few hours ago he would have been encouraging Fraser to try and dance with a few of those girls and, perhaps a little jealously, encourage him to take one of them to bed, just this once, for the sake of the wedding. Not that he's sure Fraser would have done, but he'd have tried anyway, and undoubtedly try to bag one for himself in the vague hope of a night of attachment free sex for the first time in many, many months.
There'd have been no point in him trying to find a potential girlfriend here, no in a wedding where everyone knows either Stella or Ray. There'd be too much connection if the relationship started going south, too many questions and too many complications. No, all he'd had sought in this wedding was a one night stand that he could slip away from the next day.
He doesn't catch everything Frannie says, what with the music and being distracted by his own thoughts, but he's pretty sure he drifts back into the conversation in time to hear something that might be gay and was that his name at the end of it all? He really hopes there's not going to be too much discussion about all this.
At least Fraser knows when to escape. He's quite the pro at running from forward women, and Ray's there ready to defend his buddy if need be. Or... just take his arm. He guesses he can manage that, even if he is briefly flicking his gaze down to the grip.]
Doubt you can kick it much lower than it already is, Fraser. You're not spreadin' rumour about me, are ya?
[And that might be a joke, considering Fraser's recent speech about the two of them to the whole fucking room.]
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Not at all. At least not intentionally. I don't know.
[ It wasn't really like Fraser to not be able to construct his thoughts without contradicting himself so blatantly, and yet he was still clearly recovering from being flustered. It tended to wear off a lot faster recently than it once had, but today was different for a variety of reasons: it was a wedding, he was still ruffled from kissing Ray, and Francesca - Francesca had called him gay. Why did that embarrass him? It wasn't like it was even true. He'd even offered to take her for coffee once, to make a genuine effort, and there was Victoria, and...and there had been other women.
Ray really was the exception. Which meant that by law of mean he was definitely heterosexual...
Why was he trying to escape it? For Ray's sake, maybe? He didn't want them to be pinned down like that, labeled, judged. No--he didn't want Ray to be any of those things, as though it might scare him off to have people talking about him behind his back. Fraser could care less what other people thought of him, and while Ray had said much the same thing not half an hour ago, this was real life, not just a reassurance promised in regard to Canadian flights of fancy.
He was afraid that it might hurt him, that the blow to his reputation really had stung, and so the joke had fallen flat, knocking him off his own footing.
With a very visible full body twitch he came out of his thoughtful melancholy, the burn of blush taking a little longer to subside, and he raised his eyes to Ray's. There was some desperation showing there, a hint of the continued embarrassment he was trying to smother. ]
Are you done eating?
[ As if the answer wasn't obvious. The real question was whether or not Fraser wanted to skip the dancing and get out of there before he accidentally made the situation any worse than it already was. There were still some people in that room who hadn't witnessed the bride's ex-husband getting publicly intimate with a drunk Mountie.
Or maybe it was too late. ]
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Perhaps it's his own fault somehow. Perhaps Fraser was having second thoughts- although that doesn't coincide with the clinging against Ray currently going on. No, he's pretty sure they're still okay for this. Maybe. he hopes so after the public declaration, because he's going to feel really fucking stupid in the morning if this was just some drunken fancy. At least they could both blame it on the alcohol and never speak of it again.]
Mm-hmm, all done.
[Which was somewhat of a lie, granted. He'd never really started eating in the first place, but he was done for now. Probably only to order yet more pizza at a ridiculous time of the night. Dief would be happy with that, at least, and Fraser could do with eating some more after all that alcohol.]
Hey, uh, you okay, buddy? You look a little... [Something. He's not sure. Flustered, maybe. A quick, sweeping glance of his partner, using the opportunity to wriggle his arm free and slap it across Fraser's back again in a much more familiar position.
He didn't lead them away, didn't even lead them anywhere private. He was quite happy to stay in the crowds of wedding attendees with his good friend and partner. Actual partner, maybe, not even just his working partner. And isn't that a weird thought? Unless Fraser wasn't okay with it, in which case Ray could deal with that. He's used to rejection, after all. Used to hearing one thing and then having them do another, just like Stella had done. She'd loved him and left him, actions contradicting words. Ray was too simple to understand that, but he could accept it.]
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They'd find food, and Fraser would even eat it. He'd matched up his diet with Ray Vecchio's years ago and it had stuck. Even Kowalski's weird insistence that he cover it with citrus fruit didn't so much as register as a blip. If anything, the idea of eating pizza that wasn't sugary sweet felt unusual to him now--that was just how much they'd both had to adapt to each other.
He was afraid Ray would change his mind. He was afraid he might want to and not say for fear of upsetting the apple cart that they'd so carefully propped up between them. Fraser was terrified that one of them would see sense and call the whole thing off, and as the moments stretched out he became even more certain it might be him; that he might take it all back so that Ray didn't inevitably have to, laugh it off awkwardly.
But Ray wasn't leading him out of the room, wasn't trying to escape being seen with him, even though Fraser had humiliated him several times over. Ray was dropping an arm across his shoulder and hovering in the crowd with him, and when he looked back up and saw just a hint of worry in his eyes - as game as Ray was trying to be - he found himself smiling. That was a feeling he recognized. Ray was giving him all he could, even though he found it all a little strange. It was like back on the ship, surrounded by sailors with no idea how he was supposed to behave, pressed in by their suspicion. Ray had been game then too; there had been something hard and steely concealing his concern, but also hope, and a certain kind of...sadness. Sad hope. Like he'd get over it if it all went wrong; if in the end they both took their transfers and left, he'd endure it somehow. God, he'd worn that look most of the way through that case.
And just like that his smile broke into a laugh, then a shake of his head - and oh look, a sailing ship covered in Mounties - how ridiculous was their life? ]
I'm fine, Ray. Really, really. [ Apart from the spontaneous chortling. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing across it, then shook it off abruptly, his eyes suddenly dancing bright. ] It's just I finally realised how ironic it was after all this time that I was the one running on instinct and you--you were being impossibly logical. Between the two of us we ought to be able to come to a compromise after all this time.
[ He turned under Ray's arm, but reached up and grabbed him by the elbow and the hand, leading him back. ]
We could dance, but it'd be too much like practicing in public. But you know what--I think I left the door open to the Vecchio suite. We really should...check on that. Don't you think? It's only polite.
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Fraser knew how to break the ice this time, that laugh of his enough to get Ray grinning back. It's all the proof he needs to know that Fraser's okay. That they're okay. And maybe it won't be easy, in fact it probably won't be easy if it's anything like their usual day to day life, but they're both willing to try and make this work, which is a hell of a lot more than can be said for Ray's last relationship. And probably Fraser's last one too.]
Heh, logical. [Even the idea of him following logic is enough to amuse, but he supposes there's truth to that. That when it came to love and attraction, Fraser was the one throwing himself head first into it without a second thought, and Ray was the one holding back, thinking and overthinking and desperately trying to make sure it'll work before he allows himself to feel. He can't have another Stella, he just can't. He's just not sure he's got it in him to work away for years at another relationship only to find it was a failure almost from the start. Love is draining, and Ray needs to be certain in his mind before he pushes forward with a relationship with his best friend.
He's smiling when Fraser moves beneath his arm, smiles when he's lead and he doesn't think he'll stop smiling for quite some time.]
Polite. Sure, sure. Better check, we wouldn't want anyone breakin' in. Dance floor's too crowded anyways.
[He and Fraser are just as deserving of that suite as the married couple. No harm in sharing, he figures, and so he willingly follows on, quite content to leave the crowds for a more quiet area. Somewhere where it could just be them and the music and not a hundred other people and screaming kids and old relatives shouting over one another.
Fraser always did have the best ideas.]
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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. ]
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At first he considers whether they should at least offer up one dance for the crowd, but then he realises that neither of them have anything to prove. If people want to gawk at two guys enjoying each others company then they can fuck off, Fraser is his and he should be allowed to steal him away two dance in private. He's not trying to hide anything except hide Fraser from prying eyes.
By the time they're at the doors Fraser is pulling him in for a kiss, and this time Ray's ready to respond, head tilting and pushing forward as he keeps right along with that middle ground as they stumble through the hallway. His feet suffer for their awkward placement, but he'll blame Fraser's leading for that considering the few toes that are trod on during their scramble to the elevator.
He considers their current kiss nothing but a warm up, even as Fraser turns it up a notch. The ding of the elevator is his starter pistol, catching sight of the doors opening over Fraser's shoulder and using that moment to push his weight into his partner, shoving him straight for the rear wall of the elevator. His hand only briefly reaches out to fumble for the buttons, feeling out for roughly the right floor and mashing several others in the process. He doesn't care, they're in no hurry, not when he's got Benton like this.
Seconds later his arms are around his partner and he's pushing forward with his tongue, urgent and eager, trying to use his weight to keep Fraser pinned while he desperately tries to reciprocate just some of the wildness his partner had shown him in that corridor.
He could be wild too, wild like the back streets of Chicago, where there were no rules and only the strongest survived. His wild was a dog eat dog kind of nature, just like Canada's wilderness, and while trees and rivers were replaced with apartment blocks and alleyways, the urgency for survival was still there, just as strong as ever. Ray had that urgency, that spark for life and love and passion, and he was willing to share every bit of it with his friend, just like all those times he'd shown him through the dive bars and shady back alley dealers. He could teach Fraser the Chicago way and he was more than willing to learn all about the Canadian way.]
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And it's unexpected. Ray's eager response to the kiss had been wonderful, as though they were unlocking some secret next level to kissing as it was, and then bang he was struck by force and energy, like a fist to the face, or an out of nowhere hug, and Ray was suddenly pressed against him, slamming him against the back wall of the elevator so sharply that it knocked all the air out of him. That took some real doing, Fraser had a surfeit of air. It was wild urgency, fury and fight and strength, and it was Ray - the other side of Ray, flashing eyes and flashing fists - it was Ray all the way through.
God, he loved this man. All the ragged edges of him, the windbeaten roughness, the hard bristles of beard that ground into his naked jaw, the hard hands that locked him in place against the back wall of the elevator the way he'd pushed Ray against the wall before. All that energy and fire and passion that he knew existed in himself - that he knew inherently existed in Ray from his years working with him - poured out into the kiss, bled into its roughness, through teeth and lips and tongue, and Fraser was bowled over by it.
Oh, he could probably have given Ray a good fight, and sometimes fighting was necessary in their relationship, sometimes he had to make a resistance against those hands, just to show that he was capable of it. But not yet. Not now. He wanted Ray to know he could submit too, push and pull, meeting in the middle.
He moaned softly into his partner's mouth, his hands wandering - as they were free to do - pushing again under the shirt that Ray had only fixed half an hour ago, sliding his hands up his sides, his back, feeling Ray's inhales and the tension of his shoulders as he put everything he had into holding Fraser against the wall. It ached. There was a ledge running around the elevator under the mirror, and it was jammed against the center of his back, bruisingly hard, but really--this was Fraser who jumped from moving vehicles and fell down cliffsides and leapt into raging rapids. He could take a little bruising, a little push and strain, a little reminder of the thrust for survival with which they were both so familiar.
And as for the bruising, he even liked it, and something told him that this was going to be a new extreme sport, that he might get as many bruises doing this as he took during a general day's work.
He let his nails rake against Ray's bare skin, scraping down his back, overwhelmed by the full beautiful existence of Ray, by his honor and his genuine sweetness and his loyalty, by the fire and the passion and the stray dog ferocity. He was so much more than that; and it was true what he'd said before, what he'd said to Stella. She hadn't truly appreciated what she had. She couldn't know what it was like to place her life in this man's hands on a day to day basis, to love him as Fraser loved him, to be willing to do anything, go anywhere, live at arm's length forever if it meant just being near him.
Ray had shown him his world in a way that Ray Vecchio never had, had led him through it, and made Fraser a part of it; now that he'd opened the door to this - this physicality - it seemed like they had more to share with each other. He'd never been kissed like this in his life, never been helpless to making soft noises of pleasure into his partner's mouth, never been thrust about and manhandled like this unless he was in the process of being beaten in the head for one reason or another. It was powerfully thrilling in a way he simply couldn't describe, because Ray could be as strong as him, as passionate, as indomitable. They were equals, and the meaning of that was only just now beginning to open up.
The elevator moved, and his stomach flipped, and he whimpered into Ray's mouth, tongue sparring back, pouring everything he had back into that wonderful, glorious kiss.
God, he was really kissing Ray. Actually kissing him. ]
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And Ray really was kissing Fraser.
A fact he might almost have forgotten were it not for the moan from his partner that sounded just a little too masculine to be mistaken for anything else, and those creeping hands that are far too large and worn to be anything but Fraser's. Sure, without those factors, Ray could have almost fooled himself into thinking this was just some good looking bridesmaid he'd managed to drag away from the festivities. But there was just no mistaking this. This was so much more than a kiss and a fumble in an elevator. This was him and his best friend, his partner, taking that final step to something that some may have seen coming a mile away.
Ray had known from day one that he'd get on with the Mountie. Even with their differences and the oddness and Fraser's general habit of being difficult, Ray could tell Benton was a good guy, dedicated to his job, good set of morals and a damn fine partner to have a around. Had to be to be climbing over moving cars and dragging his sorry ass out of Lake Michigan.
So maybe Ray had never quite envisioned this when he'd accepted Benton as being his new and undoubtedly best partner, but over the course of their time together he'd certainly realised he never wanted to lose the guy. The idea of Fraser running back to Vecchio when he'd returned had been heartbreaking, and even though he didn't, there was still that deep seated paranoia that maybe he would, one day. Maybe not so much now, not when Stanley's got his partner pinned against the elevator and Vecchio's retiring to run away with his new wife. This whole wedding wasn't such a bad deal after all.
Ray keeps up the kiss while he can, rough and needy, moaning right back into Fraser's mouth as those hands touch against bare skin and scrape a path down his back. So Benton had a little fight in him too. He already knew that, and he was pretty certain he was going to love it soon enough. This wasn't about being careful and delicate, this was about two men who'd risked their lives for one another time and time again, venting out just a little bit of that excess energy.
When the elevator does slow to a stop and ding out the appropriate number (it's a miracle he got the right floor on the first try, but it wasn't like there were masses to choose from), Ray reluctantly draws back, sucking on Fraser's tongue as he does so before breaking away wetly and releasing his weight from the other. He turns just in time to see an elderly couple (both of who Ray recognises) enter hesitantly, and Ray can't help but chuckle at them, full of mischief and amusement as he grabs for Fraser's hand and tugs him out right behind him. That's probably the most action that couple has seen in a decade, it'd explain why the lady is left staring as the doors slowly close again.]
Hah. There goes the ex-grandparent-in-laws. C'mon.
[The bridal suite is sounding far too appealing right now, even if just a place to dance and rest and enjoy without having a crowd of ex-relatives and fake-relatives around.]
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And then the doors opened, and Ray--god, Ray was pulling back - sucking on his tongue but pulling back - and Fraser tried to chase him, to tighten his grip on him and stop him from getting away. He failed, his hands slipping out of Ray's shirt, and he stayed slumped against the back wall of the elevator for a moment just to catch his breath, flushed and aroused and happy.
The couple - Stella's grandparents on her mother's side, he thought - stepped inside warily, and Fraser licked his lips, looking up at Ray just in time to see him grinning, chuckling, like a little boy who'd just slipped out from under his parents' nose with the keys to his dad's snowmobile. Then Ray's hand was in his, and he was being pulled out of the elevator car so quickly he didn't have time to breathe, nevermind apologise, stumbling almost into Ray before getting his own jelly legs under him again.
He hadn't accidentally left the bridal suite open, that had been an untruth, but that was easy enough to deal with. His free hand slid into Ray's back pocket as he reached the door, and then he was tugging his other hand free, leaning close to it, using the same gestures and angle precisely that he'd watched both Rays use dozens of times before. The door clicked open, and he nudged his toe against it, put his shoulder against the frame, and looked back up at Ray again, still flushed and urgent, still wanting.
He had very little intention of dancing. Not now they had the room. Not with hours of partygoing happening several floors below them. Maybe they'd get back down in time for the last few slow dances: find Diefenbaker passed out in a sugarcoma under one of the tables and Vecchio dozing in his new wife's lap, sodden with red wine and champagne. That was what people did at their weddings, wasn't it?
Sex and dancing and food, in that order. Wait.
He reached up, using both of his hands, tugging on the end of the bow tie he'd so carefully fixed about Ray's neck. When it was undone, he kept pulling, leaning up to close the space between them again, but only for a moment. He needed to talk, even if he was afraid of the words, so he blurted them out as quickly as he could, keeping his thumbs on Ray's cheeks as though he could hold him back from kissing even if he wanted to. Really: probably couldn't. ]
If I'm going too fast--if ever you want to stop, we'll just stop. You only have to say the word.
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This breaking in is yet another to add to that growing list of Fraser's misbehaving, Ray standing by to watch his partner easily manipulate the lock like he'd done it a million times before. Of course Fraser knew how to do it, he knew how to do everything. This time it was Ray's turn to keep watch, glancing back and forth in the short time it took and then slipping in as the door pushes open.
He tries to steer them in past the door at least to try and get that shut behind them, even as Fraser looks at him with an eager sort of desperation, and even as his bow tie loosens up. Tempting as it is to lean straight back in and continue where they left off, Ray takes the hint of those hands at his face and holds back, staring back with an impatience that might just have flickered with guilt as Fraser speaks.]
Look, buddy, I don't really do this. I mean, uh, this. [His gaze dropping thoughtfully for just a second as if such a break in staring will somehow help him find the words. Apparently it's successful enough to have him looking back seconds later.]
I don't dig dicks, is, is what I'm sayin'. Any kinda dicks. Big dicks. Small dicks. All dicks. Sure I seen a few in my time, y'know, streakers, changin' rooms, peein' in the can, but uh, I'm not lookin' for them. Guys aren't my thing. Chicks are where it's at, soft skin and the swell of their tits and and, well you get the idea.
[This isn't sounding right. This is sounding like a decline and Ray's not trying for that. Perhaps if he just slides his arms around Fraser's waist and...]
I love chicks, Fraser. But uh, I think I might also love you. I mean I think about ya all the time and if I got a chance to spend time with a chick or you, it's gonna be you. Heh. Y'know when we got back to Chicago I couldn't sleep? I missed havin' you around, missed not havin' you close by when I was sleepin', I even missed Dief's snoring. Just being in that apartment alone kinda freaked me out, to think that was all I had to look forward to in Chicago. Chicago's home but I uh, I guess it's not so great without you bein' there with me.
I guess what I'm tryin' to say is I want you there with me. In Chicago or in Canada or wherever we go. Just uh. Go easy on me.
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Fraser listened well, usually speaking. He kept his head down and waited until Ray was finished before correcting him. This time, he listened harder than usual: a combination of personal involvement, knowing it was important and his being impossibly wired, and therefore more prone than usual to let his attention wander. It wasn't really his fault. This sort of thing happened to him so rarely, so much love and physicality, that if he let his attention drift he'd forget that days were separated into hours, never mind his plans and responsibilities. He could forget even himself.
As Ray finished speaking, Fraser exhaled, let it wash over him. It was how he felt about it, as odd as that sounded. He'd always considered himself to be straight, but there was something about this man, his partner; something in the way they clicked, first, and then in time he'd begun to realise he was distracted by the physical things: by the shape of his ear or the bones of his wrist or the particular iron curve of his bicep where it hit the angle of his tattoo. He'd become so drawn to him physically he'd genuinely become less able to touch, although he'd found himself pressing closer into Ray's space as though it were natural. But he hadn't been able to comfort him the way he'd wanted to, had drawn back most physicality of his own for fear that if he put his hands on Ray he might somehow transmit that emotion through him, give himself away long before he even realised there was something to give.
And then they'd gone to Canada, slept inches from each other, huddled for warmth, woke up and ate and walked and talked and slept together all over again, day after day. There had been no hiding from physicality there, and he'd grown so much more comfortable with it since. It was still different, though, a whole lot of different when Ray wrapped his arms around his waist. So different from the hand touching his chest to stop him, or squeezing his shoulders, or clutching his arm. So different from Ray clapping a hand over his mouth, because with his glasses on he'd managed to spot a rabbit that Fraser had missed, and they hadn't eaten for a day and a half, feeding the last of their rations to the dogs.
Like it or not, they'd relied on each other for survival, and coming back, not having that, was like being ripped away from a limb, with no understanding of how to function without it. This physicality, the expression of emotion they both had for each other that had crept in pitilessly when they least expected it, couldn't be measured on any kind of natural scale. Fraser could accept that they both exclusively liked women, and that they both liked, loved and wanted each other despite that. Strange as it might seem, it worked for them. Ray missed him when he wasn't there, and Fraser couldn't imagine Chicago or Canada without him.
They both wanted this, wanted it with each other, and okay, so Fraser was less inhibited, bolder by far about trying new things: human bodies were largely interchangeable. But he was also sense fixated - fixated particularly upon Ray - and this was a body he'd dreamed of touching, tasting, smelling, of pressing his ear against his chest as he talked, or his cheek against Ray's throat, feeling the vibration of a moan through his skin. He wanted to experience all of it, and he did need the warning: he needed it because without it this would be frantic, dramatic, overwhelming, and Ray needed him to go slow. He needed to be eased into it.
At the end of the day he hadn't thought about another woman that way in years. Francesca had all but thrown herself at him, and had his mind lingered on the curve of her breast? On the way her mouth shaped around words? On the way her eyelashes brushed her cheek when she laughed?
He exhaled again, forcing himself to cool down, and when his eyes opened he looked up, found Ray's eyes a half inch or so above his own. He could do this. He could do this for Ray; ease him into it even though he wanted to pour his everything into it at once, show him just how long, and what it meant, and how he felt. ]
You don't have to spend another night alone, Ray. [ He promised, even though he didn't know if he could fulfill it. As an officer of the RCMP Robert Fraser had abandoned his family for months at a time, and his son wasn't much better. But Benton hoped, truly hoped, that he wouldn't be as selfish as his father, that he'd learned from all his mistakes, and being so long and often away from home was one of them.
He leaned in and brushed a kiss to Ray's mouth, then reached back around his back to gently urge his partner to let go. ]
Put on some music, then sit over on the couch. [ He indicated the loveseat, covered in furs. He'd admired the position in the room from the moment they'd stepped inside an hour ago, but now it seemed like the most comfortable, homely place they could possibly be. If he could be reminded of Canada, of the north, in a place as alien as this hotel room, it'd be there. ] Trust me, Ray.
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Who cares if this is with a guy? Fraser's not like most guys, and virtually everyone who knew the two of them knew they had some sort of special relationship going on long before today. They were practically inseparable as it was, so this wouldn't be any different for them both, not really. Especially not if they do retreat back to Canada for an extended stay, maybe go to Fraser's cabin, maybe find new adventures to do, meet old friends. It's all pretty appealing, even with the memories of hardships.
Fraser makes a statement Ray's not entirely sure either of them will ever be able to keep to, but the sentiment is sweet enough, proof that the Mountie cares enough to want to be with him. Ray doesn't even mind if they spend time away, not if he's got the knowledge that they'll be back together again. It's the not knowing that he hated when heading back to Chicago. Not knowing if that Canada adventure had been the last time the two of them would be as close as that. Not knowing if they were just going back to the daily grind for the rest of their partnership. Now they both knew where they stood, that they were both willing to share more than just their time at work together, and that alone meant enough to Ray.
He smiles into the kiss, smirking like an idiot even as he's urged away. Standing there the rest of the night was pretty appealing as it is, but he can't really deny the suggestion of music, which he moves to carry out immediately. The music system is found with ease (you can't really miss it, even with all the pretentious decorating) and he quickly fiddles with a few buttons until he realises there's a playlist there. A 'wedding' playlist. Perfect for newly wed couples, a mix of carefully chosen classical tunes, slow dance tracks and generic things you'd hear for first dances and 'our song' choices. It'll do, rather than risk the crap that's on the radio, and then Ray moves back towards the loveseat, dropping himself into the furs and slumping into it.]
If this is gonna end in a lap dance, Frase, I left my ones in my wallet.
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So, although he was more than ready to do that if Ray seemed willing, present circumstances made it unlikely. Ray loved him, he liked kissing him, but as he'd pointed out quite succinctly he had no general overriding interest in male genitalia. Lips were different, and easy. Sure, there were subtle differences between kissing a man and a woman, but most of those Fraser thought he was probably strange for picking up, the more angular jaw, the larger lung capacity, lips thinner, tongue wider, teeth set slightly differently. There was the hint of Ray's stubble, too, whereas Fraser made that easier still by being meticulous with his grooming habits, no hair left behind.
So kissing was easy, and touching clearly wasn't a problem, Ray had been quite willing under his own hands, let them wander up his sides and across his back and into his hair. Those were harder to mistake: Fraser's hands were rough and larger, and he knew Ray had acknowledged that much to himself in some respect already. He'd liked it, too, when Fraser had resisted against him in the elevator, when he'd ground his body against him in the kiss from before, one arm pinned above his head, and his shame about being seen kissing a man had evaporated into a sort of greedy smugness that Fraser found incredibly attractive even despite himself. Maybe that was the alcohol again, but the idea of being found in the elevator with Ray sucking on his tongue was thrilling. The story would have made it down to Stella by now, hushed, almost inarticulate murmurs of Your ex-husband! and I always knew there had to be something wrong with that Mountie. That sounded about right. Was that what he wanted? A reputation? Something to dull the bright honest goodness that everyone projected onto him?
So he considered Ray, and for a moment he really did consider giving him a lap dance for specifically those reasons, but he figured that given the day they'd had, breaking into hotel rooms and carving giant wooden penises and crying behind churches, it really would be one step too far beyond the ordinary, even for him.
His jacket removed, leaving him in just his tight white shirt and jeans now, he crossed the room, fetching the rest of the bottle of champagne from where they'd left it and carrying it over to the couch. He set it on the coffee table beside Huey and Dewey's 'gift', then ignored it completely, clambering up beside Ray and folding in against his side, his knees together and resting on Ray's right thigh, one arm sliding under his back, the other high across his chest.
Just for a second or so to get his bearings, Fraser pressed his nose into the crook of his partner's neck, then he raised his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ray's mouth, inviting him into another embrace, this one softer, slower, the kind of kiss that would stay willing for hours. And why not? They had nowhere else to be. There were no expectations, but if their touches wandered so they wandered. This close, whatever happened didn't have to be anything but a natural evolution of intimacy, and maybe Ray didn't have to pay too much attention to the fact that his body wasn't a woman's body, would grow to love it as much as he loved Fraser himself.
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There was something about this with Fraser that sparked a sense of that, like it was something new and exciting, that he didn't have to prove himself or try and be someone he's not. Fraser had seen it all already, he'd already been witness to Ray stripped bare, physically and metaphorically. This was a guy who didn't care about how well built you were, whether there was a full six pack, or how big you were packing. After being on the singles shelf for far too long, feeling judged and criticized every time he attempted to make a move on any one, this just felt like such a relief. He should have been doing it long ago.
Fraser did all the right things. Settled himself in close, took a gradual path to Ray's lips, and kept the kiss lingering and inviting. Without any need for persuasion, Ray's responding, curling in against the Mountie as he twists in his seat and curling his calf around Fraser's legs. He didn't mind closeness. He was clingy enough as it was, and now that he had the encouragement there was nothing stopping him from wanting this affection.
His kiss is responsive but not forceful, enjoying the moment without trying to hurry it. He's got an arm moving up the back of the seat to prop him in place while the other curls around Fraser's waist. He could settle himself there for the rest of the night quite easily, but there's one question tugging at the back of his mind that he can't quite settle. Something that he has to ask, barely pulling away, muttered against his partners lips.]
Would you uh, would you have done this with Vecchio? I mean if he hadn't gone with Stella and stuff. I heard it mighta been a thing.
[Or more that he'd taken what Welsh had said to mean that he was the second choice. Maybe that's okay though. He could deal with being second best.]
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It bore no resemblance, either, to the nights he'd spent curled into Victoria, making love so slowly and for so long that he'd slept most of the day away. This was the first time he'd been denied by a snowstorm; exploration and love, passion and longing, a partnership expanded to know more rather than two bodies sliding into each other for warmth.
When Ray pulled back away from the kiss, it was only the barest space, so that Fraser could still feel his breath against his mouth. He let himself capture that space again briefly, a kiss of reassurance as he thought of the words that could best answer the question. He only needed a second. ]
If he'd wanted it, I might have, for the sake of our partnership. I might have even adjusted to our being more than friends. [ He rubbed a circle against Ray's sternum as he spoke. ] But Ray was never anything but meticulously straight, and quite besides that, Ray, not at all my type, as difficult as that might be to believe.
[ He reaches his hand higher brushing just the tips of his fingers over Ray's moist lower lip, and then he closed the distance again, kissed his mouth over his fingers, broke it again. ]
He's irritating, uncompromising, occasionally selfish, often arrogant, ceaselessly unwilling. I love him dearly, he's saved our lives more times than I can count, and he's nothing if not my best friend - reason enough to forgive him his flaws - but he's not you. Our relationship is incomparable to what we have.
[ He left the kiss where it was. When Ray was ready, he could take it over again, but Fraser felt like he needed to leave him a chance to absorb that. ]
Maybe other people made you feel that way. Maybe he did. [ He murmured softly. ] Maybe once upon a time I might have too, but it was never a competition between the two of you. Even if it was, look at what you have, Ray. You won. You have friends and you have me, and somewhere along the way you won back your self respect, and your passion for what you do. You'd almost lost that when we first met.
I am so proud of you Ray, and so very, very much in love with you.
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So maybe Vecchio isn't as much competition as Ray had thought, but he couldn't help feeling like second best to a guy who'd known Fraser much earlier on. Stanley had come in after that bonding had taken place, had missed Fraser's initial introduction to America, had missed helping his friend through so much of it, and missed being there for him when his father had died and his ex had screwed him over. He'd missed a lot, but he supposes he and Benton had had their own time together, had almost bonded on even ground of uncertainty. They'd certainly had some adventures together, and Vecchio could never claim to have spent months travelling alone with Fraser through the Canadian wilderness.
He had won. He didn't have Stella any more, but he had a job he'd learned to love again with a partner who made every part of it better. Life wouldn't be the same without Fraser, and Kowalski's got no clue how Vecchio can just up and leave to the other side of the country. Maybe that Italian asshole didn't appreciate what he already had any more than Stella did. They'd be good for each other.
And then Fraser's saying that 'L' word. Ray does wonder why he's not as surprised by it as he thought he would be, but it's really no different from all the times Fraser's proclaimed to be his partner and his friend. It was said with the exact same affection and Ray's pretty sure he means it. Canadian's don't lie.]
Yeah? You mean that? [So pleased and hopeful.]
I guess Vecchio doesn't know what he's missin' out on. Stella and Florida got nothin' on this. You might be a freak, Fraser, but you're my freak.
[Ray would take the freezing winter of the North over the muggy warmth of Florida any day, especially when he gets to keep Fraser and Dief by his side.
Of course he can't help but offer a flick of his tongue against Fraser's lips, a quick lick against them, just a little taunting.]
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[ It wasn't altogether clear what had made him so happy. The declaration of his being a freak, or the fact that Ray said it so possessively and with such affection that it was the equivalent of his saying "I love you too, Fraser" without actually doing so. Translating Rayspeak was important sometimes too; sometimes it didn't come out in pure English, was gently transformed or manipulated so as to better protect the speaker. This was one of those moments.
Or maybe his little "Mmm" was a sound of contentment where Ray's tongue dashed against his lips. Maybe it was a thoughtful "Mmm" that had more to do with what Fraser intended to do now that he'd been baited so beautifully.
Maybe it was all those things and more, a little nod of confirmation to the invitation that was their own happy ever after. No more Ray or Stella or Florida; but they had each other and that worked for them in a way that was closer to perfect than either of them had ever had.
For right now, it could just be the kiss. Ray's concerns had been addressed, and he was inviting Fraser back in. This moment was the one they'd been chasing up to, where wild desperate kisses in semi-public spaces finally gave way to time alone. Where they could kiss, and put their hands all over each other and let it build into whatever it wanted to become without reservation--restrained only perhaps by whatever Ray would let him have.
He slid half up into Ray's lap as he kissed him, tipping his weight forward, sliding his mouth firmly against Ray's and letting their tongues catch and slide and grind against each other. Desire stoked for the night like a fire, Fraser sought out the heat of his partner's mouth like he was coming in from a blizzard, longing for the safety and comfort of the familiar, but willing to draw it out for as long as they both could stand.
He was really kissing Ray, he thought again, with contentment this time. With the understanding that this wasn't going to go away--at least not for so long as Fraser held on as tightly as he could. Now they'd passed those barriers he could kiss Ray whenever he liked, could be kissed whenever Ray elected to do so. Their lives had changed, even if it was just in that simple physical way, and Fraser couldn't help but think it was for the better.
He felt loved. He loved. This was what living was really about.
He tried to guide Ray down on the couch without really forcing the matter, his free hand sliding up across his partner's side again, drawing his tongue back with such languid grace as to invite Ray to take his mouth in turn. It was give and take with Fraser--it hadn't always been that way. Ray had made him that way. ]
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Yes, good, put that mouth to better use. Ray's already learning that it's a damn fine mouth, and a skilled one at that. Maybe it's all that licking Benton gets up to, or perhaps he's just read it from some book like he does with so many other things. Doesn't really matter so long as it's good, and Ray responds to it steadily, no rushing or pushing like they'd been doing moments before in the elevator.
Fraser was climbing into his lap, pushing into the kiss and using his weight as leverage. Ray didn't fight it, relaxing under the suggestion as he slid back into the seat, his back settling into the cushioned arm and allowing him to support his partners weight if needed. Both arms curl around Fraser's waist, loose but encouraging, hands settling at his lower back.
This he could manage. This was easy going and relaxing on his jittery, alcohol fuelled thoughts. Grappling and fighting over clothing was an all too appealing notion, but Ray's not sure if he'd lock up the second the underwear came off. No, this was better. This was more like dancing, one step at a time, building up to something beautiful.
He took the invitation of the kiss, chasing Benton's tongue with his own, curling and twisting against teeth and tongue with Ray's usual rapid sort of eagerness, even if the rest of his actions were slow and purposeful.]
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Now the future took the shape of Ray's body under his own. Of his mouth, his demanding tongue, the scrape of his teeth. It was quick and slow at once, deliberate and yet all over the place, and that was Ray through and through. Fraser sucked on his tongue, taking advantage of the moment in reflection of the way Ray had plundered his mouth as they left the elevator, and he shifted his legs and weight over, staying up in Ray's lap but now half straddling him, one knee up against his side, his other thigh between Ray's legs, his hip and Ray's hands keeping him in balance.
Oh they were dancing alright, but there were no steps, not with their feet off the ground. If angels danced, this would be how they did it. No hands and no feet, flying high on emotion and arousal. His hands rubbed up Ray's sides and crossed his chest, but there was no stopping to linger on his nipples--Fraser treated them like everything else, ran his hands across and moved on, curled into the wings of muscle of Ray's back instead.
The last time he'd tried to generate some friction between them, Ray had held him very still--vice like, even. This time he tried to be at least a little more subtle about it, languidly rocking his body against Ray's, panting sucking breaths into the kiss; slow and purposeful. It didn't demand anything more than a little bump and grind, and it was more instinct than anything else. Short of strapping Fraser down there wasn't going to be any keeping him absolutely still when it came to this. This was what all those muscles were really made for. Shifting, moving, working, rather than the constant stillness of a Mountie whose life was a parade.
A whole other side of him.
He bit Ray's bottom lip, withdrawing just for a moment, his eyelashes concealing the hunger in his eyes. ]
You can touch me too. If you want. [ It meant 'I'd like you to', but Fraser was careful to include 'If you feel like it's appropriate' in the general meaning. Just because Ray was down with the kissing didn't mean he'd necessarily want to touch, and that could be okay. This was still experimental, exploratory. ]
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