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ashinaeFortune (written 2 April, 2002)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ashinae
Fandom: Due South
Rating: R
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Summary: Ray realises that sometimes, a man just has to make his own happiness.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Sometimes I like to play with them, but I always put them back.
Note: Dedicated todeerdancer
Fortune
In hindsight, Ray figured he could probably blame it all on that damned fortune cookie.
*
"Gonna open that?"
"Open what?"
"The fortune cookie. It's tradition, Fraser."
"Ray, believe it or not, I've actually had Chinese food before and I understand the idea of fortune cookies. However, I'd rather finish my dessert first."
"Then can I open it?"
"Ray! It's my fortune cookie, so no, you cannot open it."
"Geez, when did you get so grabby?"
"I'm not 'grabby'. And, please, don't start sulking. It's very unbecoming of you."
He stared across the table, sipping his coffee as Fraser finished off his dessert. It still amazed him, sometimes, at the great care and attention Fraser paid to detail. Everything was done methodically, as though he caluculated each and every breath before he pulled it into his lungs.
Amazing.
Fraser glanced up at him then, gesturing with his fork. "But you can open yours, you know, if you're that eager. Don't let me stop you."
"I don't sulk."
And then there was that smile. He saw it so rarely, but there it was--right there, the Mountie was trying to hide it as he lowered his head to look down at his plate. Teasing. He was teasing. Well, damn.
"Yes, you do."
"I don't."
"You do."
"Fraser, I'm not arguing with you."
"Yes, you are."
"You are so irritating."
"So I've been told."
"Probably not often enough."
He liked that. The verbal sparring. They didn't do it enough. They didn't do anything enough. Not enough talking, not enough time together, not enough driving around with nowhere in mind. They were friends. They were supposed to do stuff like that. It shouldn't be like pulling teeth to get Fraser to come out for dinner with him after they both worked late. Fraser needed to get out of that damn Consulate; Ray needed to get out of his lonely apartment.
They were friends, weren't they?
"There. That was excellent."
"You gonna lick off the plate now, too?"
"Ray."
"Don't 'Ray', me. Took you long enough to eat it."
"You're very impatient tonight."
"I'm feeling kinda -- you know, trapped. Claustrophobic. I wanna get out of here."
"You were the one so intent on coming here."
"Nah, I picked the wrong restaurant is all."
In all honesty, this was one of his favourite restaurants. He'd been trying to get Fraser to agree to come out with him for ages. But there was something bugging him -- no, someone was bugging him. That waiter. That waiter who wouldn't stop staring at Fraser.
So he was jealous. He didn't like sharing anymore than he liked the idea of letting Fraser drive; he didn't like strong perfume, he didn't like nutmeg, he didn't like bratty kids and he sure as hell didn't like people staring at his Mountie.
Possessive much, Kowalski?
"Ah, I see."
"So open it already. Can't leave until you've read it."
"Is this a new rule?"
"Stop trying to be funny."
"Apparently, it's time for me to try something new. And yours?"
"Gonna let me open it first?"
"All right, Ray."
Well, fuck.
Stop looking. Happiness is right in front of you. Yeah, he knew that part already. Stupid cookie. What the hell did they know anyway? He'd once been told he was going to inherit a piece of land, and after ten years, he still hadn't received it. What did some cookie know about a guy's happiness?
"Ray?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to share?"
"It's dumb. Let's just pay and get outta here. I still have that movie, if you wanna watch it. It's not due till tomorrow."
"Isn't it getting a little late?"
"Nah, c'mon. You'll like it. It's got that guy in it."
"Which guy?"
"You know, the guy."
"Oh. Of course."
He liked that, too -- Fraser not arguing. Just going along with it. How many times had he just wanted to shake Fraser and tell him, Go with the flow. Pretend you're having a good time. Smile and nod. Don't try to do the one-against-an-army thing, 'cause sometimes, just sometimes, you can't win. In Ray's mind, Fraser was never able to talk his way out of a certain situation. He would always end up just... going with the flow -- doing it the way Ray wanted it.
"So."
"So?"
"Uh... thanks."
"For what, Ray?"
"For agreeing to come."
"Oh, anytime."
"Anytime? Fraser! For Christ--"
Deep breath. Calm down. Don't run the guy off when you've got him ten minutes from your apartment.
"Ray, there's no reason to yell at me."
"I'm not yelling!"
"Yes, you are."
"Look. Look, all I'm saying is... is that you don't 'anytime' somebody when you always say 'no, thank you kindly' when they ask if you wanna do something."
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you gotta say?"
"Oh" from the man who could talk the ears off a moose.
Though perhaps, really, that wasn't true. Sure, he could give the long-winded Inuit stories, but really -- did he actually ever talk to a person? Somehow, Ray couldn't imagine Fraser spending hours on the phone catching up with an old friend. To tell the truth, Ray couldn't imagine Fraser really having any friends. Not good, talking-on-the-phone friends, at any rate. He may be "perfect", but he was also Mister Anti-Social. Reason number one hundred eighty-two of Ray's list of Ways Fraser Drove Him Crazy.
"What would you have me say?"
"What?"
"What, what? I want to know what I'm supposed to say, or have you added 'ignoring' to 'sulking'?"
"Fraser, you keep that up and you can't come inside. You can turn around and walk back to the Consulate, okay?"
"Oh. Well, then. Good night, Ray."
"Fraser!"
"Ray--"
"I don't want you to go, okay?"
"I left Diefenbaker--"
"And ya know someting? He's a grown wolf and I think he can handle being alone for a while. He can take care of himself. Don't give me that. Don't give me excuses."
"What do you want me to give you?"
Defeat. Right there; though he couldn't see it in Fraser's eyes, he could see it in the Mountie's posture, in the way that Fraser sank back against the seat and stared at out at the road. About damn time. No more arguing.
"I'll have to think about it."
"But--"
"I told you not to start. C'mon. I rented that movie 'cause it's got the guy in it."
"All right, Ray."
"Good."
"Ray?"
"Yeah?"
"What guy?"
*
There was a tiny glint in Fraser's eyes when he saw the actor Ray had been referring to. Something that said, Ooh, goodness. It was funny, the way Fraser showed that excitement without even having intended to show it. You could forget the big-name Hollywood "hunks" -- it took some handsome, British actor playing the villain to turn Fraser's crank.
If that was his crank being turned. With Fraser, you could never tell.
Whatever it was that had been bothering Ray, was forgotten the instant this British guy showed up on screen. Not bad looking, if you liked blonde guys--but he wasn't the one attracting Ray's attention. Sure, Fraser's expression was calm, cool and collected. Nothing new there. But if Ray didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Fraser felt a little twinge of excitment every time the man was onscreen. There was just something there -- something underneath the layers of hiding and protection and keeping everything away. Ray felt it the way a person could feel it when someone was staring at them.
Fraser was just so transparent.
"I know what I want to hear from you, Fraser."
"Ray."
"What?"
"I'm trying to watch the movie."
"Fine."
"Ray, I was enjoying that."
"Yeah, I knew you would. But this is more important."
Ray stopped when Fraser turned slightly to look at him, a quizzical expression on his face. Damn him, for looking like that. Damn him, for not understanding.
It wasn't so much what he wanted to hear from Fraser. No, it was simply what he wanted from Fraser. When had he decided he was going to do it this way? About two seconds ago, Kowalski. Get with the program. Why don't you try going with the flow?
"Ray?"
"What?"
"You're staring."
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"Why are you arguing with me?"
"Why are you so confrontational?"
"Hey, I thought they would've taught you Mounties that it's impolite to answer a question with a question."
"I'm sure it's more impolite to stare."
"Yeah, well, fuck you too, Fraser."
There was a sort of outraged expression on Fraser's face. Yeah, well, Ray figured he deserved it, for all those times he nit-picked or argued or made Ray feel like some kind of perv for staring at him for too long, or for giving him his most wicked grin. Fuck him for that tiny little smile on his face after Ray grabbed him by the front of the shirt and kissed him. Fuck him for having the most kissable lips in the world, because Ray couldn't make himself stop kissing him, once he'd had a taste of the man. Fuck him for looking so satisfied once Ray shoved him back on the couch and leaned over him, kissing him over and over again. Fuck him for being so easy -- Ray would have never waited this long if he had known it was this easy to get Fraser panting, breathless, sprawled out on his couch with one hand tangled in Ray's hair and the other shoved down Ray's pants.
The movie forgotten, they moved together, hotter than Ray ever imagined they would be together. Undearneath Fraser's cold exterior, there really was someone who had needs. Someone who threw his head back and moaned as Ray's hand closed around his hard, aching flesh; whose hips jerked upwards, seeking relief; who couldn't keep his own hands away from Ray's exposed skin. Someone whose eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy as Ray drove him on, higher and higher, making him moan even louder than before.
"Don't."
"Ray..."
"Fraser, I said don't."
"Please, I... Ray, don't what?"
"Don't close your eyes. Don't pretend that this isn't me."
"Ray, I -- I know it's you. Please--"
"Open them. Open your eyes or I'll stop."
That was enough. They watched each other, as Ray leaned over him, his own hips thrusting forward to push himself into the tight circle of Fraser's fist. Their gasps and moans echoed each other, the sounds mingling into the otherwise quiet apartment. There was nothing hotter than that fuck-me motion of his body beneath Ray's; that tip of pink tongue darting across his bottom lip, and the arch of his neck that begged for Ray to mark it and bruise it and prove that Fraser was his.
There was nothing better than being able to see himself in Fraser's eyes. Nothing could ever match being able to see Fraser being overwhelmed with the pleasure he was feeling; hearing the man crying out; feeling his body arching as he spilled over Ray's fist just as Ray himself finally gave in to his own desperate needs. And he knew that he was the one to make Fraser feel like that.
He made Fraser feel.
"Mine."
"Yes... yes, Ray. Yours."
Author:
ashinaeFandom: Due South
Rating: R
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Summary: Ray realises that sometimes, a man just has to make his own happiness.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Sometimes I like to play with them, but I always put them back.
Note: Dedicated to
deerdancerIn hindsight, Ray figured he could probably blame it all on that damned fortune cookie.
"Gonna open that?"
"Open what?"
"The fortune cookie. It's tradition, Fraser."
"Ray, believe it or not, I've actually had Chinese food before and I understand the idea of fortune cookies. However, I'd rather finish my dessert first."
"Then can I open it?"
"Ray! It's my fortune cookie, so no, you cannot open it."
"Geez, when did you get so grabby?"
"I'm not 'grabby'. And, please, don't start sulking. It's very unbecoming of you."
He stared across the table, sipping his coffee as Fraser finished off his dessert. It still amazed him, sometimes, at the great care and attention Fraser paid to detail. Everything was done methodically, as though he caluculated each and every breath before he pulled it into his lungs.
Amazing.
Fraser glanced up at him then, gesturing with his fork. "But you can open yours, you know, if you're that eager. Don't let me stop you."
"I don't sulk."
And then there was that smile. He saw it so rarely, but there it was--right there, the Mountie was trying to hide it as he lowered his head to look down at his plate. Teasing. He was teasing. Well, damn.
"Yes, you do."
"I don't."
"You do."
"Fraser, I'm not arguing with you."
"Yes, you are."
"You are so irritating."
"So I've been told."
"Probably not often enough."
He liked that. The verbal sparring. They didn't do it enough. They didn't do anything enough. Not enough talking, not enough time together, not enough driving around with nowhere in mind. They were friends. They were supposed to do stuff like that. It shouldn't be like pulling teeth to get Fraser to come out for dinner with him after they both worked late. Fraser needed to get out of that damn Consulate; Ray needed to get out of his lonely apartment.
They were friends, weren't they?
"There. That was excellent."
"You gonna lick off the plate now, too?"
"Ray."
"Don't 'Ray', me. Took you long enough to eat it."
"You're very impatient tonight."
"I'm feeling kinda -- you know, trapped. Claustrophobic. I wanna get out of here."
"You were the one so intent on coming here."
"Nah, I picked the wrong restaurant is all."
In all honesty, this was one of his favourite restaurants. He'd been trying to get Fraser to agree to come out with him for ages. But there was something bugging him -- no, someone was bugging him. That waiter. That waiter who wouldn't stop staring at Fraser.
So he was jealous. He didn't like sharing anymore than he liked the idea of letting Fraser drive; he didn't like strong perfume, he didn't like nutmeg, he didn't like bratty kids and he sure as hell didn't like people staring at his Mountie.
Possessive much, Kowalski?
"Ah, I see."
"So open it already. Can't leave until you've read it."
"Is this a new rule?"
"Stop trying to be funny."
"Apparently, it's time for me to try something new. And yours?"
"Gonna let me open it first?"
"All right, Ray."
Well, fuck.
Stop looking. Happiness is right in front of you. Yeah, he knew that part already. Stupid cookie. What the hell did they know anyway? He'd once been told he was going to inherit a piece of land, and after ten years, he still hadn't received it. What did some cookie know about a guy's happiness?
"Ray?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to share?"
"It's dumb. Let's just pay and get outta here. I still have that movie, if you wanna watch it. It's not due till tomorrow."
"Isn't it getting a little late?"
"Nah, c'mon. You'll like it. It's got that guy in it."
"Which guy?"
"You know, the guy."
"Oh. Of course."
He liked that, too -- Fraser not arguing. Just going along with it. How many times had he just wanted to shake Fraser and tell him, Go with the flow. Pretend you're having a good time. Smile and nod. Don't try to do the one-against-an-army thing, 'cause sometimes, just sometimes, you can't win. In Ray's mind, Fraser was never able to talk his way out of a certain situation. He would always end up just... going with the flow -- doing it the way Ray wanted it.
"So."
"So?"
"Uh... thanks."
"For what, Ray?"
"For agreeing to come."
"Oh, anytime."
"Anytime? Fraser! For Christ--"
Deep breath. Calm down. Don't run the guy off when you've got him ten minutes from your apartment.
"Ray, there's no reason to yell at me."
"I'm not yelling!"
"Yes, you are."
"Look. Look, all I'm saying is... is that you don't 'anytime' somebody when you always say 'no, thank you kindly' when they ask if you wanna do something."
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you gotta say?"
"Oh" from the man who could talk the ears off a moose.
Though perhaps, really, that wasn't true. Sure, he could give the long-winded Inuit stories, but really -- did he actually ever talk to a person? Somehow, Ray couldn't imagine Fraser spending hours on the phone catching up with an old friend. To tell the truth, Ray couldn't imagine Fraser really having any friends. Not good, talking-on-the-phone friends, at any rate. He may be "perfect", but he was also Mister Anti-Social. Reason number one hundred eighty-two of Ray's list of Ways Fraser Drove Him Crazy.
"What would you have me say?"
"What?"
"What, what? I want to know what I'm supposed to say, or have you added 'ignoring' to 'sulking'?"
"Fraser, you keep that up and you can't come inside. You can turn around and walk back to the Consulate, okay?"
"Oh. Well, then. Good night, Ray."
"Fraser!"
"Ray--"
"I don't want you to go, okay?"
"I left Diefenbaker--"
"And ya know someting? He's a grown wolf and I think he can handle being alone for a while. He can take care of himself. Don't give me that. Don't give me excuses."
"What do you want me to give you?"
Defeat. Right there; though he couldn't see it in Fraser's eyes, he could see it in the Mountie's posture, in the way that Fraser sank back against the seat and stared at out at the road. About damn time. No more arguing.
"I'll have to think about it."
"But--"
"I told you not to start. C'mon. I rented that movie 'cause it's got the guy in it."
"All right, Ray."
"Good."
"Ray?"
"Yeah?"
"What guy?"
There was a tiny glint in Fraser's eyes when he saw the actor Ray had been referring to. Something that said, Ooh, goodness. It was funny, the way Fraser showed that excitement without even having intended to show it. You could forget the big-name Hollywood "hunks" -- it took some handsome, British actor playing the villain to turn Fraser's crank.
If that was his crank being turned. With Fraser, you could never tell.
Whatever it was that had been bothering Ray, was forgotten the instant this British guy showed up on screen. Not bad looking, if you liked blonde guys--but he wasn't the one attracting Ray's attention. Sure, Fraser's expression was calm, cool and collected. Nothing new there. But if Ray didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Fraser felt a little twinge of excitment every time the man was onscreen. There was just something there -- something underneath the layers of hiding and protection and keeping everything away. Ray felt it the way a person could feel it when someone was staring at them.
Fraser was just so transparent.
"I know what I want to hear from you, Fraser."
"Ray."
"What?"
"I'm trying to watch the movie."
"Fine."
"Ray, I was enjoying that."
"Yeah, I knew you would. But this is more important."
Ray stopped when Fraser turned slightly to look at him, a quizzical expression on his face. Damn him, for looking like that. Damn him, for not understanding.
It wasn't so much what he wanted to hear from Fraser. No, it was simply what he wanted from Fraser. When had he decided he was going to do it this way? About two seconds ago, Kowalski. Get with the program. Why don't you try going with the flow?
"Ray?"
"What?"
"You're staring."
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"Why are you arguing with me?"
"Why are you so confrontational?"
"Hey, I thought they would've taught you Mounties that it's impolite to answer a question with a question."
"I'm sure it's more impolite to stare."
"Yeah, well, fuck you too, Fraser."
There was a sort of outraged expression on Fraser's face. Yeah, well, Ray figured he deserved it, for all those times he nit-picked or argued or made Ray feel like some kind of perv for staring at him for too long, or for giving him his most wicked grin. Fuck him for that tiny little smile on his face after Ray grabbed him by the front of the shirt and kissed him. Fuck him for having the most kissable lips in the world, because Ray couldn't make himself stop kissing him, once he'd had a taste of the man. Fuck him for looking so satisfied once Ray shoved him back on the couch and leaned over him, kissing him over and over again. Fuck him for being so easy -- Ray would have never waited this long if he had known it was this easy to get Fraser panting, breathless, sprawled out on his couch with one hand tangled in Ray's hair and the other shoved down Ray's pants.
The movie forgotten, they moved together, hotter than Ray ever imagined they would be together. Undearneath Fraser's cold exterior, there really was someone who had needs. Someone who threw his head back and moaned as Ray's hand closed around his hard, aching flesh; whose hips jerked upwards, seeking relief; who couldn't keep his own hands away from Ray's exposed skin. Someone whose eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy as Ray drove him on, higher and higher, making him moan even louder than before.
"Don't."
"Ray..."
"Fraser, I said don't."
"Please, I... Ray, don't what?"
"Don't close your eyes. Don't pretend that this isn't me."
"Ray, I -- I know it's you. Please--"
"Open them. Open your eyes or I'll stop."
That was enough. They watched each other, as Ray leaned over him, his own hips thrusting forward to push himself into the tight circle of Fraser's fist. Their gasps and moans echoed each other, the sounds mingling into the otherwise quiet apartment. There was nothing hotter than that fuck-me motion of his body beneath Ray's; that tip of pink tongue darting across his bottom lip, and the arch of his neck that begged for Ray to mark it and bruise it and prove that Fraser was his.
There was nothing better than being able to see himself in Fraser's eyes. Nothing could ever match being able to see Fraser being overwhelmed with the pleasure he was feeling; hearing the man crying out; feeling his body arching as he spilled over Ray's fist just as Ray himself finally gave in to his own desperate needs. And he knew that he was the one to make Fraser feel like that.
He made Fraser feel.
"Mine."
"Yes... yes, Ray. Yours."
