Sealie Scott
I think I hate parties, Benton Fraser thought miserably.
His ears hurt and the flashing of lights made him feel nauseous. His best friend and partner was oblivious to the sensory disorientation and was happily jiving away to a rhythmic pattern which had absolutely nothing to do with the music. Squirreling himself further into the corner, Fraser attempted, futilely, to minimise his exposure to the environment. Two scantily clad females sauntered past him their arms crossed over their ample bosoms whispering wetly to each other. Ray executed an improbable turn, much to the amusement of his dance partner and then returned to his happy bopping to the unending beat.
No. I know; I really hate parties. Any moment now he was going to start shaking and that was unforgivable.
*why?* Dief asked, safe some twenty minutes away in their barren, austere, clean and most importantly, quiet apartment.
Fraser shrugged absently, I don't know why.... Okay I do, I can't block out the party: I hear every conversation; inhale every cigar; feel every beat; taste the sweat and perfume in the air.
*meditate* Dief advised, then there was silence, if indeed he had been talking to the wolf..
Very practical, Fraser responded waspishly.
Fraser shook his head, dizzy, trapped in the music with the thudding heartbeat. Dief's advice was, as always, hardly practical and ultimately the advice of a lone wolf. These party things were the accepted manner of socialising in the late twentieth century. 'Party, meet people and have fun' - as Ray had put it succinctly. Fraser didn't think he was ever as lonely as he was in a crowded room.
I have to mask the sensations, Fraser decided with his customary directness, then I will be able to tolerate this.
The bar was across the dance floor as was the obvious solution. Taking a deep breath, Fraser pushed himself from the alcove and stepped onto the dance floor. People assailed him from all sides. A firm, young body bounced off his hip, smiled and moved back into the mass of dancers. Quiet apology followed quiet apology as he weaved his way across the dance floor trying to minimise his contact with the other celebrants. He grabbed the bar like a drowning man and hauled himself against the wooden facade.
"What do you want?" a young bartender screamed at him.
"I'd like two large Southern Comforts, please." Fraser mouthed deliberately.
The man nodded and decanted the amber fluid into a pair a squat glasses - Fraser handed over a bill in exchange for the sedative. He upended one glass and held the burning liquid in his mouth, deliberately breathing through his nose, taking the fumes deep into his lungs. Slowly he swallowed, feeling the warmth spreading down his throat to kindle his innards. Whether it was psychological or not he felt a loosening in his taut spine - easing a niggling little pain. Cradling the other shot in his hand, Fraser braced himself and turned to face the floor. He had to find the corner against which he could place his back then he would be able to cope until Ray had had enough. Fraser dove back into the heaving throng and arrowed towards his dark corner. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found it unoccupied. Merging with the darkness, Fraser searched for his partner. Ray had changed his dancing style to a fluid weaving which suited him and the music better. The detective looked as if he had the energy to last the whole evening and maybe the night. Fraser shuddered with the depressing thought - midnight was still another two hours away and would Ray then find another party to drag him too? With every force of his being he concentrated on Ray wishing that the detective would become sick of the horrible music and decide to, at the least, go to a quiet bar. Ray stopped as if struck on the back of the head and turned unerringly towards him. Cocking his head to the side, Ray peered into the shadows. The detective's companion clearly said 'what's the problem, lover?'.
Fraser took another slug of the second Southern Comfort - he still hadn't acquired sufficient detachment to cope with the torture of sensory overload. Somewhere on his left a woman was berating her husband for daring to look at another woman. Elsewhere a glass broke with a shatteringly high pitch. Fraser resisted the temptation to beat his head against the wall.
"Fraser?" a hand touched his shoulder. "Benny?"
Opening his eyes, Fraser looked into his friend's face.
"Are you all right, man?"
The mountie knodded mutely.
"Are you drinking?" Ray demanded.
"Yes," Fraser said meekly.
"Benny, Benny, Benny," Ray shook his head in a remarkable imitation of his friend. "Why are you drinking, Benny? You never drink."
"Well, alcohol has medicinal qualities. Studies have shown that red wine..."
"You're," a quick sniff, "drinking Southern Comfort."
Looking extremely sheepish, Fraser shuffled sideways. "I've only had one."
"That's an excuse - you don't drink."
"It seemed like a good idea and everyone else has had something to drink."
"That is definitely an excuse."
Fraser chewed nervously at the inside of his cheek - he had already acted out of character buying and consuming the drink; if he told Ray that he hated the party, Ray would insist on leaving and Ray was having a good time.
"I was curious - I wanted to see how the party was like after a couple of drinks." Fraser consoled himself that it wasn't really a lie - merely a simple misdirection. .
Ray blew out an expressive sigh. "You don't need that; you just need to dance." Grinning, he plucked the half full glass from Fraser's hand and blindly set it behind him. Before Fraser could protest, his friend had towed him onto the dance floor.
"What are you doing?" he protested, even though he knew his friend's mind.
"Come on, we can join the crowd from the precinct."
Ray released him next to Elaine with a conspiratorial grin at the civilian aide. Beside him, the detective began to move with the music. Frozen, Fraser allowed Elaine to catch his hand and swing it to the rhythm. Huey, the birthday boy, laughed uproariously but there was no cruelty in his laugh. Ray tapped his shoulder and then jogged from side to side trying to entice him to dance.
An innocent, childlike smile on his face, Fraser mirrored his friend's movement. He could do this, he realised, at least until Ray was ready to go home.
fin