no porn, though. sorry.

[schmerica]

brooklinegirl is in a bad mood. So what better solution than to write her turned-into-a-girl!Ray also in a horrible mood?

Whatever, it makes sense in my head.

*****

Mostly Ray doesn't smoke much anymore, not like he used to, like a chimney for twenty years -- just once in a while, now, when he really needs one, he goes and rummages through the freezer for the cigarettes he's got hidden in the back, behind Fraser's weird frozen meat and salves and stuff. Today's one of those once in a while times, though, so Ray's dragged himself and his smokes and his lighter out to the fire escape. It's cool out, gray and overcast and depressing. Ray brought the comforter from their bed out with him, has it wrapped all the way around him, except for his head and his arms. It's getting filthy like this but Ray doesn't much care. Dief's come out to sit with Ray, too, but he's distracted now, all alert staring down at the ground. Ray thinks he may be thinking about maybe killing something. Ray doesn't blame him. If Ray's gun wasn't locked up away in the drawer, he'd be tempted too.

As it is, he just pushes his glasses back up his nose and chain-smokes. He's not sure how long he's been doing it when Fraser makes his way outside.

"Ray?" says Fraser. He must've just gotten home; he's still in the uniform, the brown one. He looks handsome and unruffled and untouchable and Ray thinks Fraser's lucky Ray doesn't have death lasers in his eyes. "How long have you been sitting out here?"

"A while," Ray says. Conversation closed.

Fraser frowns and crouches down next to him. "Are you all right? You could come inside. I could make us some dinner, and then perhaps--" Fraser puts his hand on Ray's shoulder, gently kneading and squeezing, and then before it starts to drift, Ray grabs it and shoves it away.

Ray says, glaring, "Fraser. There will be no perhaps tonight. There will be no anything tonight. I'm on the rag. My girl parts are tap-dancing all over my insides and if you touch me again, I'm gonna have to kick you someplace real uncomfortable."

"....Ah," says Fraser. He clears his throat. "I see." He gets back to his feet, brushing imaginary dust on his pants. "Would a hot water bottle help?"

"Jesus Christ, Fraser, I have no fucking idea," Ray says. "Will you just go away?"

Fraser's face is unreadable. He says, "Ah," again and disappears inside. Ray finishes his last cigarette a couple minutes later, and drags himself and the blanket back into the bedroom, and crawls onto the bed. Dief follows him and curls up all along his side, and Ray keeps one hand hard on his belly and the other knotted in Dief's fur.

Later on Fraser brings him a hot water bottle and some Midol -- which a) there's no way they had that in the house and b) Fraser doesn't even approve of drugs anyway, he won't even take aspirin most of the time, so he must've called Frannie or somebody to figure out what to do, but Ray doesn't really care. He decides Fraser can stick around.

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[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Word, dude.