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schmericaSo, uh, this is where Dira's fix-it snippet has had my mind going all day.
*****
Canada was the same. The cabin was the same -- fireplace, stove, tiny table with two chairs, almost empty bookcase, the big bed that dominated half the place. The bed was the same, too, every pillow, every blanket. Ray wondered how Fraser'd been sleeping in it alone the past few months -- had he stayed on his own side, or just stretched out in the middle? Had he spread his bedroll on the floor and slept like that? Ray didn't ask.
Him and Fraser weren't the same, but they were something. That was more than Ray thought he'd ever be able to say again.
The first time Fraser kissed him again, Ray knew Fraser was gonna do it from the look on his face. It was the same look Fraser got when he was bracing himself up for anything freaking him out, his "I am a Big Tough Mountie" look. It was after dinner, the first night back -- Ray was clearing the dishes off the table, and Fraser got that look on his face, and Ray stopped and stood real still, holding the dishes in both hands. And Fraser stood up, put his hand on Ray's shoulder and leaned in and kissed him firmly on the mouth.
Fraser looked relieved, afterward, and Ray thought maybe he was, too.
First steps were the hardest. You had to start somewhere.
Fraser touched him a lot, the first few days. He'd touch Ray's arm, his shoulder, his back when he passed by him in the cabin. It was conscious touching, methodical, almost, like he was training himself to get back used to Ray again.
They tried having sex the second week.
"Are you sure--" Ray said, when Fraser reached out across their bed. "I don't know--"
"This is why we're here, isn't it?" Fraser said, still that wearing sort of fortified, determined look. "To give this another chance?"
It was awkward, all tentative and careful, like they didn't know each other anymore. Like they were afraid of breaking something, like if they did the wrong thing something might crack right open again. They kissed for a while, and groped at each other clumsily -- and Ray had missed this, missed him, and even like this, with them like strangers, he still couldn't breathe when Fraser touched him. He wanted to tell Fraser that he was sorry or that he loved him, or that he had missed him, but he couldn't do any of that -- he was afraid to say a single word.
Afterwards, they both lay facing each other, and Ray kept his eyes half-shut while Fraser looked at him.
Fraser reached out, his hand soft against Ray's hair, and said quietly, "I don't know how to do this."
"Me neither," said Ray, "but we've got to."
Neither of them said anything else, and Ray fell asleep to Fraser still stroking his hair.
The next day Dief came over to sniff by Ray while he was cooking lunch, and Ray gave him a piece of the meat he was cutting. That was the first time Dief had acknowledged Ray's existence since he came back. Ray guessed maybe all was forgiven with a wolf, now that he and Fraser smelled like each other again.
With people, it was different. The thing about Fraser was that it was like he was pretending everything was forgiven, like nothing had ever happened, but it had, and they both knew it. It was like everything was now this thing that they wouldn't talk about, because Fraser was too noble to bring it up, they had put it behind them, and Fraser wasn't gonna ever bring it up to reproach Ray again.
Which was crap, and basically turned out like he was reproaching Ray all the time. Fraser was pissed, and he had a right to be pissed, and they both knew it; it was stupid to pretend like this. What was the point?
It was a couple weeks before Ray cracked enough to ask that to Fraser. They got into an argument, a big one, messy and loud and cruel, both of them going for the jugular, saying all the stuff they'd been avoiding. Ray threw the salt shaker at the wall, and it cracked open and the salt fell all over the floor, and Fraser shoved Ray hard against the door and Ray bared his teeth and kissed Fraser as hard as he could. Fraser kissed him back, pinning him there, nipping hard at his neck and shoulders, until Ray was shaking against him and Fraser pulled both of them down to the rug in front of the fireplace. Ray sucked Fraser's cock while he jerked himself off, and when he came before Fraser, Fraser pushed him onto his stomach and fucked him for a long time, slow and hard, hugging him close, so that Ray could feel Fraser's strength and frustration and anger and stamina all the way through him, till Fraser finally, finally, shook to pieces and fell apart.
Ray hadn't caught his breath yet, after, when Fraser's weight rolled off of him and Fraser said, his voice a little unsteady, "It's possible I overestimated how well I was dealing with things."
"You think?" Ray said. He managed to gather the strength in his arms to push himself up to look at Fraser.
Fraser was looking straight back at him. "I don't -- things are not all right, Ray."
"Yeah," said Ray, "I know." It was weird trying to think, have a real conversation like this, naked and sweaty and messy. "But -- look at it this way, Fraser, it's honest now. You and me, we gotta be honest with each other." Ray had always been a conjob -- that was what his first marriage was all about, when you got down to it -- but Fraser knew every single bad and horrible thing about Ray, and they were both still here anyway. It was scary and freeing, both at the same time. "It's gotta get better from here," Ray said.
Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and nodded slowly. Ray reached out and held Fraser's hand in his till Fraser took another deep breath and finally rose to start cleaning the place back up.
Weirdly enough, after that things really did start to get better.
*****
Canada was the same. The cabin was the same -- fireplace, stove, tiny table with two chairs, almost empty bookcase, the big bed that dominated half the place. The bed was the same, too, every pillow, every blanket. Ray wondered how Fraser'd been sleeping in it alone the past few months -- had he stayed on his own side, or just stretched out in the middle? Had he spread his bedroll on the floor and slept like that? Ray didn't ask.
Him and Fraser weren't the same, but they were something. That was more than Ray thought he'd ever be able to say again.
The first time Fraser kissed him again, Ray knew Fraser was gonna do it from the look on his face. It was the same look Fraser got when he was bracing himself up for anything freaking him out, his "I am a Big Tough Mountie" look. It was after dinner, the first night back -- Ray was clearing the dishes off the table, and Fraser got that look on his face, and Ray stopped and stood real still, holding the dishes in both hands. And Fraser stood up, put his hand on Ray's shoulder and leaned in and kissed him firmly on the mouth.
Fraser looked relieved, afterward, and Ray thought maybe he was, too.
First steps were the hardest. You had to start somewhere.
Fraser touched him a lot, the first few days. He'd touch Ray's arm, his shoulder, his back when he passed by him in the cabin. It was conscious touching, methodical, almost, like he was training himself to get back used to Ray again.
They tried having sex the second week.
"Are you sure--" Ray said, when Fraser reached out across their bed. "I don't know--"
"This is why we're here, isn't it?" Fraser said, still that wearing sort of fortified, determined look. "To give this another chance?"
It was awkward, all tentative and careful, like they didn't know each other anymore. Like they were afraid of breaking something, like if they did the wrong thing something might crack right open again. They kissed for a while, and groped at each other clumsily -- and Ray had missed this, missed him, and even like this, with them like strangers, he still couldn't breathe when Fraser touched him. He wanted to tell Fraser that he was sorry or that he loved him, or that he had missed him, but he couldn't do any of that -- he was afraid to say a single word.
Afterwards, they both lay facing each other, and Ray kept his eyes half-shut while Fraser looked at him.
Fraser reached out, his hand soft against Ray's hair, and said quietly, "I don't know how to do this."
"Me neither," said Ray, "but we've got to."
Neither of them said anything else, and Ray fell asleep to Fraser still stroking his hair.
The next day Dief came over to sniff by Ray while he was cooking lunch, and Ray gave him a piece of the meat he was cutting. That was the first time Dief had acknowledged Ray's existence since he came back. Ray guessed maybe all was forgiven with a wolf, now that he and Fraser smelled like each other again.
With people, it was different. The thing about Fraser was that it was like he was pretending everything was forgiven, like nothing had ever happened, but it had, and they both knew it. It was like everything was now this thing that they wouldn't talk about, because Fraser was too noble to bring it up, they had put it behind them, and Fraser wasn't gonna ever bring it up to reproach Ray again.
Which was crap, and basically turned out like he was reproaching Ray all the time. Fraser was pissed, and he had a right to be pissed, and they both knew it; it was stupid to pretend like this. What was the point?
It was a couple weeks before Ray cracked enough to ask that to Fraser. They got into an argument, a big one, messy and loud and cruel, both of them going for the jugular, saying all the stuff they'd been avoiding. Ray threw the salt shaker at the wall, and it cracked open and the salt fell all over the floor, and Fraser shoved Ray hard against the door and Ray bared his teeth and kissed Fraser as hard as he could. Fraser kissed him back, pinning him there, nipping hard at his neck and shoulders, until Ray was shaking against him and Fraser pulled both of them down to the rug in front of the fireplace. Ray sucked Fraser's cock while he jerked himself off, and when he came before Fraser, Fraser pushed him onto his stomach and fucked him for a long time, slow and hard, hugging him close, so that Ray could feel Fraser's strength and frustration and anger and stamina all the way through him, till Fraser finally, finally, shook to pieces and fell apart.
Ray hadn't caught his breath yet, after, when Fraser's weight rolled off of him and Fraser said, his voice a little unsteady, "It's possible I overestimated how well I was dealing with things."
"You think?" Ray said. He managed to gather the strength in his arms to push himself up to look at Fraser.
Fraser was looking straight back at him. "I don't -- things are not all right, Ray."
"Yeah," said Ray, "I know." It was weird trying to think, have a real conversation like this, naked and sweaty and messy. "But -- look at it this way, Fraser, it's honest now. You and me, we gotta be honest with each other." Ray had always been a conjob -- that was what his first marriage was all about, when you got down to it -- but Fraser knew every single bad and horrible thing about Ray, and they were both still here anyway. It was scary and freeing, both at the same time. "It's gotta get better from here," Ray said.
Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and nodded slowly. Ray reached out and held Fraser's hand in his till Fraser took another deep breath and finally rose to start cleaning the place back up.
Weirdly enough, after that things really did start to get better.
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pearl_o is an instigator par excellence...
26/4/05 19:05 (UTC)