(no subject)
Jan. 23rd, 2006 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darthrami. No reason.
Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13
Notches
Fraser was slowly driving Ray Kowalski insane.
It was wrong in all sorts of ways.
They had a pool going in the bullpen, which Frannie said Dewey was running, but Dewey's sports jackets had more brains than him, and if anyone was behind it it was his fake little sister, bet his life on it. Only it wasn't his life, it was fifteen bucks on which one would drive the other crazy first, and he was telling Dewey that he had a history of driving people nuts, he's got an ex-wife he can call up in court, and they should just try his old partners because hell on his rolltop desk he has notches and you do not argue with a man's notches. And Dewey had tried to argue with his notches, and Ray had had to threaten to put a notch in Dewey's face, and Welsh had told him that if there were any notches to be dealt out they'd be dealt out to Ray, in his office, which was where the whole Anderson case had come in.
Turned out the garbage trucks was only a part of it, and there were Mexican children smuggling chutney in their heads, or whatever, which is only ever the kind of case you get into when Fraser is your partner. Other guys, they get normal cases. Hell, Ray Vecchio got a gig in the Mafia, which had to be all girls and guns and gangster leans, if the movies could be believed, and if the movies couldn't be believed then there was no point to this life or his porn collection. But that was not the card Ray Kowalski had been dealt; hell, the great casino of life never even let him through the front door - too skinny, too funny looking, too punk. Ray's place in life was apparently in the dumpster 'round back, covered in trash. With a Mountie.
That was where the insanity was coming in.
'cos by rights he should be wanting to slug Fraser, right now. It was the normal state of mind in this situation, as with pretty much any other situation Fraser had ever got him into ever. That was how you told the difference, apparently - strangers wanted to kiss him, pounce him, kidnap him and tie him to various pieces of furniture, while his partners should by all rights want to smack him in the mouth. And Ray kinda did want to smack him in the mouth only it wasn't because they were in a dumpster, it was for losing Ray fifteen bucks which were supposed to be for a damned pizza. Because Fraser had clearly driven him insane.
See, it wasn't hitting he was thinking of doing to Fraser's mouth.
What kind of freak was he? Sprawled in a dumpster with his partner climbing over him and around him and searching for some damned clue he wouldn't even tell Ray what it was until he'd found it with a little 'ah-hah!' like he was just asking to get a right-hook to his jaw, only all Ray could think about right now was how good Fraser looked, all covered in garbage like that.
See, Fraser was untouchable. That was what made it okay. He was more gorgeous than anybody in any of the damned movies and equally as untouchable, like he was hiding behind the glass screen, like even if you tried to touch him you'd be stopped by some kind of Mountie atmosphere and you could mark that up all you wanted with fingerprints but no one could get past. Only now he was all over Ray, solid heat backing him up into a corner and making it hard to breathe because he had a streak of dirt on his cheek and there was a bit of orange peel in his hair and somehow the screen wasn't there, any more. Somehow Ray had found real-life-Fraser, and real-life-Fraser grinned just the same way movie-Fraser did when he found whatever the hell it was he was looking for. Which Ray never got to see, anyway, 'cos this was the only chance he was ever gonna get and somehow he was breathing through his nose, mouth busy, Fraser scented garbage-air, or garbage scented Fraser-air, which one he never quite managed to work out what with Fraser kissing him back.
That was the point he forgot to breathe altogether, for a while.
"What," Fraser eventually pulled away long enough to ask him, licking his lips in a way that was making Ray's dick leap to attention (not that it really needed the added stimulation, just now, thanks) "was that?"
"That was your notch, Fraser buddy."
And the look on his face, the half-annoyed, half-angry look that Fraser never relaxed enough to give anyone but him, made Ray collapse back into a pile of damned garbage and hoot with laughter.
"Notch where?"
"Hell if I know. Your desk, maybe? It's traditional."
And the look in Fraser's eyes was somehow turning into something entirely different, and he was leaning forward again, a little, which was all kinds of right.
"I hope you're not suggesting we go back to the Consulate, Ray. Not for what I have in mind."
Ray's mouth went a little dry, and it took a second or two to come out with his comeback, a second or two long enough to hear the approaching blue and whites and long enough for Fraser to try to straighten his uniform. Which made Ray a little uneasy, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Fraser's wrist, just for a second.
"Hey, Fraser, a notch is a notch. Your desk, my bedpost, I'm easy."
"I sincerely," Fraser murmured, as Welsh came in their direction, "hope so, Ray," and that just set him off again, which made Welsh look at him like he was... well hell, cackling madly and covered in garbage, which seemed to be adding up to 'insane'.
Which, y'know, he was pretty okay with.
darthrami. No reason.Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13
Notches
Fraser was slowly driving Ray Kowalski insane.
It was wrong in all sorts of ways.
They had a pool going in the bullpen, which Frannie said Dewey was running, but Dewey's sports jackets had more brains than him, and if anyone was behind it it was his fake little sister, bet his life on it. Only it wasn't his life, it was fifteen bucks on which one would drive the other crazy first, and he was telling Dewey that he had a history of driving people nuts, he's got an ex-wife he can call up in court, and they should just try his old partners because hell on his rolltop desk he has notches and you do not argue with a man's notches. And Dewey had tried to argue with his notches, and Ray had had to threaten to put a notch in Dewey's face, and Welsh had told him that if there were any notches to be dealt out they'd be dealt out to Ray, in his office, which was where the whole Anderson case had come in.
Turned out the garbage trucks was only a part of it, and there were Mexican children smuggling chutney in their heads, or whatever, which is only ever the kind of case you get into when Fraser is your partner. Other guys, they get normal cases. Hell, Ray Vecchio got a gig in the Mafia, which had to be all girls and guns and gangster leans, if the movies could be believed, and if the movies couldn't be believed then there was no point to this life or his porn collection. But that was not the card Ray Kowalski had been dealt; hell, the great casino of life never even let him through the front door - too skinny, too funny looking, too punk. Ray's place in life was apparently in the dumpster 'round back, covered in trash. With a Mountie.
That was where the insanity was coming in.
'cos by rights he should be wanting to slug Fraser, right now. It was the normal state of mind in this situation, as with pretty much any other situation Fraser had ever got him into ever. That was how you told the difference, apparently - strangers wanted to kiss him, pounce him, kidnap him and tie him to various pieces of furniture, while his partners should by all rights want to smack him in the mouth. And Ray kinda did want to smack him in the mouth only it wasn't because they were in a dumpster, it was for losing Ray fifteen bucks which were supposed to be for a damned pizza. Because Fraser had clearly driven him insane.
See, it wasn't hitting he was thinking of doing to Fraser's mouth.
What kind of freak was he? Sprawled in a dumpster with his partner climbing over him and around him and searching for some damned clue he wouldn't even tell Ray what it was until he'd found it with a little 'ah-hah!' like he was just asking to get a right-hook to his jaw, only all Ray could think about right now was how good Fraser looked, all covered in garbage like that.
See, Fraser was untouchable. That was what made it okay. He was more gorgeous than anybody in any of the damned movies and equally as untouchable, like he was hiding behind the glass screen, like even if you tried to touch him you'd be stopped by some kind of Mountie atmosphere and you could mark that up all you wanted with fingerprints but no one could get past. Only now he was all over Ray, solid heat backing him up into a corner and making it hard to breathe because he had a streak of dirt on his cheek and there was a bit of orange peel in his hair and somehow the screen wasn't there, any more. Somehow Ray had found real-life-Fraser, and real-life-Fraser grinned just the same way movie-Fraser did when he found whatever the hell it was he was looking for. Which Ray never got to see, anyway, 'cos this was the only chance he was ever gonna get and somehow he was breathing through his nose, mouth busy, Fraser scented garbage-air, or garbage scented Fraser-air, which one he never quite managed to work out what with Fraser kissing him back.
That was the point he forgot to breathe altogether, for a while.
"What," Fraser eventually pulled away long enough to ask him, licking his lips in a way that was making Ray's dick leap to attention (not that it really needed the added stimulation, just now, thanks) "was that?"
"That was your notch, Fraser buddy."
And the look on his face, the half-annoyed, half-angry look that Fraser never relaxed enough to give anyone but him, made Ray collapse back into a pile of damned garbage and hoot with laughter.
"Notch where?"
"Hell if I know. Your desk, maybe? It's traditional."
And the look in Fraser's eyes was somehow turning into something entirely different, and he was leaning forward again, a little, which was all kinds of right.
"I hope you're not suggesting we go back to the Consulate, Ray. Not for what I have in mind."
Ray's mouth went a little dry, and it took a second or two to come out with his comeback, a second or two long enough to hear the approaching blue and whites and long enough for Fraser to try to straighten his uniform. Which made Ray a little uneasy, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Fraser's wrist, just for a second.
"Hey, Fraser, a notch is a notch. Your desk, my bedpost, I'm easy."
"I sincerely," Fraser murmured, as Welsh came in their direction, "hope so, Ray," and that just set him off again, which made Welsh look at him like he was... well hell, cackling madly and covered in garbage, which seemed to be adding up to 'insane'.
Which, y'know, he was pretty okay with.
