ds ficlet

[schmerica]

Hmmm. This is the somewhat strange result of two completely seperate conversations had earlier this week with brooklinegirl and dsudis, which somehow merged together in my brain to form this. Dira is the one who encouraged the idea, though, so I think she gets the blame.

Thank you to lynnmonster for beta.

*****

When Fraser had asked to borrow the car on Saturday, Ray had figured he wanted it for a drive to the store or something. But Fraser was gone before Ray woke up, and it was late before he got back, looking bone-tired in a way Ray almost never saw on him.

"Hey," Ray said; he was sitting on the couch watching TV when Fraser got home, Dief curled up on the armchair beside him. "Where've you been all day?"

"I'm afraid I can't say, Ray."

Ray craned his neck around to look over at Fraser -- he was still hanging up his coat and everything over at the rack. "You can't say? What, like you don't know?"

"I can't say, as it's not information I feel I have the right to share."

Fraser left the room, heading down the hall toward the bedroom and bathroom. Ray glanced over at Dief, but he couldn't tell if Dief's face was looking blank because he didn't know or just because Ray didn't know how to read him. Ray got up to follow Fraser.

Fraser was in the bathroom, washing his face. Ray sat on the edge of the bed in their room and watched him through the open door.

"So were you out doing something for somebody else, then?"

Fraser sighed, not looking back toward Ray.

"That's a yes. Hmm." Ray thought back over the past few days in his head. "That kid from the other day? What was her name, Lindsay?"

"Her name was Lindy." Fraser shut off the taps and reached for a washcloth.

"Lindy, that's right. You and her had a good talk, didn't you? You were doing that whole 'I'm a caring and concerned Mountie and you can tell me all your secrets' thing. You're good at that, you know. Me, I suck at it." Ray lay back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Fraser had skills like that, getting under people's skins, even the ones with the real tough shells, the freaks and the outcasts and the losers. They all softened up under Fraser, opening up, blooming like they'd just been waiting for someone like him to come by, someone they could talk to. Ray was better with the guys that responded to yelling and maybe getting punched in the face. "That's why I'm the bad cop. Kids, they hate me. They think I'm an asshole."

"Ray, I'd really rather not talk about this," Fraser said. His voice sounded a little strained.

Ray ignored him. "And, seriously, Fraser, it's a good thing I know you so good, because any other guy it wouldn't look right. A guy our age can't get away with hanging around teenage girls too much. It's creepy. If it wasn't you, people'd probably think you were just trying to get in their pants--"

"Ray, stop."

Ray propped himself up on his elbow, looking back over to Fraser. He was hunched over, his hands clenched on either side of the sink, his back one solid mass of tension.

"I was just joking, Fraser," Ray said.

"I realize that. I didn't find it amusing."

Ray looked at him for a couple of seconds more, then pushed himself up and off the bed and toward the bathroom. When he put his hand on Fraser's back, Fraser let out a deep breath and relaxed a little beneath Ray's palm.

"Fraser," Ray said quietly, "you gonna tell me what's up or am I going to have to rip it out of you?"

Fraser caught his gaze in the mirror. "Ray--"

"I could do it, you know."

There was a long pause. Ray kept his hand rubbing light circles on Fraser's back.

Finally, Fraser said, in the same calm and unemotional voice he used for telling boring stories, "Lindy lives in Indiana with her parents; they thought she was in Chicago for a sleepover party and shopping for the past few days. Lindy's boyfriend, a thirty-year-old man known as 'David,' disappeared several weeks ago, a few days before Lindy discovered she was pregnant."

"No boyfriend, and she couldn't tell her folks," Ray said, and Fraser nodded faintly.

"Lindy believes that her parents would react very badly to knowledge of her pregnancy. Indiana has laws requiring parental consent to provide abortion services to minors; she felt coming to Illinois to have the procedure was her best option."

"So where do you come into it?"

Fraser glanced back up at their reflections, looking surprised. "Well, she was all alone, Ray. Alone, and young, and scared. She needed someone to help her, to accompany her to the clinic and to get her back home safely."

"And that someone had to be you." That someone always had to be Fraser. Ray could see it all in his head now -- Fraser crawling out of bed first thing this morning, driving the Goat over to pick up the poor kid, holding her hand in some dingy waiting room, driving her all the way out to god knows where to drop her off on her parents' stoop. God, Fraser was crazy.

Fraser hadn't said anything else. Ray moved his hand up to Fraser's neck and squeezed once, hoping the weird tenderness he suddenly felt came across in the gesture.

"Okay, then," Ray said. "I'm gonna go back and finish watching the game with Dief."

"All right, Ray," Fraser said, and Ray squeezed his neck again and left him alone.

After a couple of minutes Fraser came back into the living room and sat down next to Ray. Ray stretched his arm out over the back of the couch so he could hold Fraser's shoulder, and he and Fraser watched the game in silence.

When it finished, Ray stood up, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and clicking off the TV. "You eaten yet?" he asked without looking back at Fraser. "There's stuff for sandwiches I could put together."

"I'm fine."

"Nah. Come on." Ray nodded his head toward the kitchen. "I'll make you a ham sandwich."

Fraser followed him with a slightly put-upon look on his face; he leaned against one of the counters while Ray got the junk out of the fridge and started constructing the thing. He'd just finished spreading the mayo when he looked up to see Fraser was staring at him with an odd, serious expression.

"What?" Ray said. Fraser's gaze made him feel suddenly paranoid -- he brought his hand up to check if there was something on his face.

Fraser shook his head, slowly. "Nothing, Ray. Just--" He crossed the kitchen suddenly with a few quick steps, pulling Ray into a half-embrace and pressing a dry kiss to the corner of his jaw.

Ray stroked a little at Fraser's hair, and they stood like that for a bit before before Ray finally said, "Yeah, I love you, too, Fraser. Now quit it so I can finish making your fucking dinner."

Fraser let go, and Ray pushed him away so he backed up a couple of steps. He watched Ray with the same weird expression as Ray put the sandwich together.

He was still wearing it when Ray handed him the plate. "Thank you kindly," Fraser said in a real quiet voice.

Ray shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. You're welcome."

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and went to sit at the table with Fraser while he ate.

Comments

[sprat.livejournal.com]

Lovely! I really like how you conveyed the whole feel of their relationship through a few little gestures. And Ray's easy knowledge of what's going on in Fraser's head is perfect.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you!