schmerica: (ray kowalski)
[personal profile] schmerica
Their combined mess was still on Fraser's skin when he awoke -- cooled now, thick and sticky on his chest and stomach. He extracted himself from the bed carefully and quietly; in the bathroom he scrubbed with a washcloth until he tingled with clean. He splashed water over his face and gave himself a long look in the mirror above the sink.

Back in the room Ray was still asleep, effortlessly sprawled out on the bed, the space Fraser had so recently occupied already reclaimed by his body. Fraser's clothes were still on the floor where they'd been abandoned earlier in the evening, and he dressed quickly in the dark.

Outside the darkness had the curious quality that only ever occurred in the last few hours between midnight and dawn. Fraser thought about that while he walked to the Consulate, and thought about the difference of the feeling of the city in these early, abandoned hours of the morning, and thought about where the constellations would be overhead right now, if the Chicago city lights allowed greater visibility. He didn't think of anything else.

Dief was lying in the corner when Fraser arrived back in his room; he lifted his head from the floor and made an inquiring remark, but Fraser ignored him and sat down on the edge of the cot to remove his jacket and shoes once again. He lay down on his back and watched the ceiling until it was time to rise for the day.

*****

The *other* scene my brain was poking at me with while I was trying to sleep was a Firefly one I didn't write down, but it began with the sentence "Simon threw up three times, neatly into the bushes."

My brain hates me.
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