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Guys, [livejournal.com profile] jem80 is having a very, very bad day. In fact, in the history of sucky days, this has to be one of the suckiest. They don't come much worse than this. So in an attempt to cheer her up, and prove that there are at least two men out there who aren't complete bastards, I've written her an F/K snippet. Not that we ever need an excuse for F/K. And if everyone else were to go over there and cheer her up too, I'm sure she'd be eternally grateful.

F/K, PG-13 for kissing, and next time I start listening to Del Amitri could someone please shoot me? Thank you kindly.




The music was far, far too loud. Fraser surreptitiously tried to turn down the volume when Ray wasn’t looking, but Ray simply batted his hand away and then went back to drumming on the steering wheel. And singing tunelessly.

“Ba ba-bum bum, ba ba-bum, someone who burns within your soul…”

“Ray, what is this?”

“How would I know? Some eighties thing.”

He kept singing. It was giving Fraser a headache. Ray was never this cheerful before lunchtime. He was bouncing, for God’s sake.

“Do-on’t let me be the laaaaaaast to kno-ow…”

Fraser thought darkly that he was clearly the last to know in this case. Perhaps Ray had had a stroke of good fortune? A bang to the head?

“Ray?”

“Yeah, Frase?” Apparently Ray had no intention of turning the music down so they could have something as trifling as a conversation.

“Is there some particular reason for your good mood this morning?”

“Nah, no reason. Just, the sun is shining, the bees are singing, spring is springing, you know? Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

Fraser pondered this for a moment. “Ray, you do realise it’s an offence under the Operation of Vehicles Code, subchapter B, section 2.6, to drive while under the influence of controlled substances?”

“Fraser, I am not high! I swear to God, just-- sheesh, I woulda thought you’d be grateful…”

“Well, I am grateful, Ray, I just fail to see…”

Ray cranked the volume up even higher at that, and the rest of Fraser’s sentence was lost in a blast of drums.




Ray’s odd good humor continued for the rest of the day. Even more surprising, nobody else seemed bothered. Fraser caught one or two of the cops giving the pair of them knowing looks, and Huey slapped Ray on the back and grinned at him. Admittedly, Lieutenant Welsh drew Fraser aside to inquire about Ray’s mental stability, although since that was a weekly occurrence Fraser decided not to worry.

They got a surprising amount of work done over the course of the day, although Ray continued to hum snatches of random songs under his breath. Fraser even caught him whistling in the break room, a sight completely unprecedented, and he actually went so far as to thank Francesca for all her hard work before they left. Stranger still, Francesca didn’t look suspicious or utter some sarcastic remark. She simply beamed at them both as she collected her coat. She didn’t even try to rub against Fraser on the way past. He tugged at his collar as he watched he leave. What was going on?

“Dinner, Frase?” Ray asked as soon as they got outside, and Fraser accepted with alacrity. If Ray’s temperament wasn’t being chemically enhanced, he was all the more eager to find out where it stemmed from.

They went to a small Indian restaurant a few streets from Ray’s apartment and settled themselves comfortably in a booth. At least, Fraser settled himself comfortable in a booth, and then Ray settled himself comfortably next to him. On the same side. Fraser could feel the heat of Ray’s thigh all along his own, could feel himself blushing under the curious gaze of the waitress.

“Ray…?” he asked, but Ray only grinned insouciantly at him, and he could not bring himself to articulate the question.

Fraser managed to persuade Ray to try the Karahi Gosht without too much complaint, although the sideways glance Ray slanted up at him as he dug in made him catch his breath. He smiled his approval and picked up his own fork, although this close all his senses were attuned to the smell of Ray’s skin, a potent mix of sweat and hair gel, next to which the Indian spices were bland and tasteless in his mouth.

Eventually he could take no more and pushed away the mostly-full plate before turning on Ray.

“Why was no-one else surprised?”

“Huh?” Clearly Ray had been paying more attention to his food than Fraser realized. He tried to ignore the way his knees were resting against Ray’s as he repeated the question.

“Nobody else was surprised by your good mood. They were all congratulating you, in fact. So what is it they know, that you didn’t see fit to tell me?”

“Oh. That. Uh, well…” Ray wiped his mouth with his napkin and then dumped it onto his empty plate. “I didn’t tell them anything. They guessed.”

“Guessed what?” Oh dear. He hadn’t heard that dangerous tone in his own voice in a very long time. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Ray stopped him.

“Guessed that I’m in love.”

“In--” To sit here gaping was unmannerly, but for the life of him Fraser could not come up with a response. In love. Who? When? Where? For the love of God, who? Ray hadn’t been near any likely women recently. He certainly hadn’t mentioned any dates. In fact, he spent most of his time with Fraser, and Fraser hadn’t wanted to admit up to now what a relief that was. How dare some woman come along and claim Ray?

“Frase…”

The expression in Ray’s eyes was almost sympathy, and Fraser couldn’t bear it.

“Well, congratulations, Ray, and I hope you’ll both be, ah-” He couldn’t, he could not wish them happiness, no matter how much Ray might deserve it. “But I have to be…it’s late and I…”

In his head he could hear his father berating him for unfinished sentences. He took a deep breath. “I must be going back to the Consulate now. Goodnight.” Fraser pulled a handful of bills from the brim of his hat, dropped them on the table, and made for the door.

“Whoa, wait, Fraser, wait, hey!” From the corner of his eye Fraser saw Ray fishing in his pocket for money and then following him.

“Stop that! Just, stop, wait, you didn’t let me finish!” And then, when Fraser continued to walk, “It’s you, ok? I’m in love with you!”

So determined was Fraser to wallow in self pity that it took several steps for Ray’s words to register. He slowed to a standstill, not quite yet ready to turn around. “Sorry.”

“I. Am. In. Love. With. You.” Ray was enunciating slowly now, and Fraser turned to see him resting his head on the wall. “I didn’t mean to come out with it like that. Come out, heh.” Ray snorted. “I’m just not- Not good at hiding my feelings.”

Fraser was tempted to laugh at that understatement. It was hysteria, he decided. He was having some kind of hysterical hallucination. Ray was just a figment of his imagination. A figment that was pushing itself away from the wall and coming towards him.

“Also, Fraser?” Ray jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The Consulate’s that way.”

“Ah. So it is.” Not a figment, then. Fraser gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “However, your car is this way…”

“Yeah? Cause, um, you’re not being as, y’know, enthusiastic, as I’d hoped.”

“You…hoped?”

“Oooooh, yeah.” The word was a drawn-out sigh.

“Well, then,” Fraser brought one hand up to Ray’s hip and the other to cup the back of his head, pressing him gently against the wall, “I shall have to display a little more…enthusiasm.”

His lips touched Ray’s, soft and damp, sending a shiver through him that wasn’t entirely arousal. He parted his lips gently and so did Ray, opening for Fraser’s tongue, and God, he tasted hot in a way that was part warmth and part spice and partly just Ray. Ray.

Fraser moved downward, rubbing his nose against Ray’s neck, inhaling his addictive scent. “Ray.”

“Fraser.” Ray’s arms wrapped around him even more tightly, holding him close. Fraser lifted his head.

“Does this mean that everyone at the 27 thinks we’re…”

“…fucking?”

“…a couple?”

“Oh, that.” Fraser couldn’t see clearly under the sodium lights, but he thought Ray might be blushing. “I guess so. Does it matter?”

“No, Ray.” Fraser let his head drop back to rest on Ray’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter at all.”
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June 2008

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