Disclaimer: They're not mine and I'm making no money out of this.

Author's Notes: Thank you to Lucysmom and hautecoffey for the beta.

Story Notes: Written for the Slash Advent Calendar (2004)

In the round: "An in the round carving stands alone and can be viewed from all sides. It should look right from all angles."

~

It was almost Christmas before I realised that Ray was still here. Well, I knew he was here, it's hard to miss almost six feet of attitude lounging on your furniture and complaining about the lack of cookies in his life.

"Hell, Fraser. I'd cook the things myself, but I swear there is not one spoonful of sugar in this whole damned cabin." Ray waved a 25-degree parting tool at the kitchen and sprinkled sawdust on the rug.

I checked the cupboard, and he was right. Apart from putting Smarties in his coffee, I'd somehow managed to convert Ray's diet from carbohydrate, carbohydrate and more carbohydrate to one of meat, dairy and even the occasional frozen vegetable. Like many things when it came to Ray, this hadn't been a conscious choice, it had just... happened, and I didn't notice until something forcibly drew my attention to it.

"Why do you want to make cookies?" I asked.

Ray glared at me. "It's not Christmas without home-made cookies."

And that's when I realised that Ray was still here. Still here. Despite our adventure having finished months before. Despite Ray's job, which I assume was waiting for him back in Chicago. Despite the fact that I'd been transferred to Inuvik and the sun had set for the winter some time previously.

Ray had asked if I minded him staying on for a while, and I'd said that would be fine, and here we were. An odd pair of room-mates living in a cabin that smelled of wood shavings and wolf hair.

Ray was still glaring at me, and I noticed that he was carving a small Christmas angel out of cherry wood. It had spiky hair and bat wings, which I suppose didn't surprise me. I'd taught him the basics of woodcarving one week in the spring, when a bad storm had us holed up with nothing better to do. Although he'd rolled his eyes and made some off-colour joke about 'whittling his wood', he'd been bored enough to try, and picked it up very quickly.

The things he carves are strange and unsettling, and I find them fascinating. I can carve a wolf and it will look like a wolf; the proportions are correct, the structure is accurate, but it's just a piece of wood in the shape of a wolf. When Ray carves a wolf it's all chip-carved angles and edges, asymmetry and rough grain. There will be something vaguely wolf shaped there, but there's also something else. I haven't been able to work out what that something is yet.

Ray spent the summer working his way through a pile of basswood while my transfer went through. Some of it he gave away, and then one day Ray got a telephone call from an art dealer in Vancouver, and now most of what he carves goes in a big box every eight weeks and travels south. Every so often another box arrives with exotic wood and oddly shaped tools.

"You enjoy carving, don't you?"

Ray blinked, probably confused by the apparent non-sequiter. "Uh, yeah."

"Why?"

Ray grinned, showing his teeth. "When you piss me off, I always have something inanimate to stab."

"Does that happen a lot?" I know I'm irritating. Enough people have told me so over the years.

Ray shrugged. "It's not so much that you piss me off, you just... frustrate me sometimes." He pointed to a carving of what was obviously a seal, without actually looking anything like a seal. "I did that one after you came home and told me you'd stuck your hands into Rob Norton's water tank to get the valve unclogged, despite the fact that you had to knock a hole in four inches of ice to do it. Ice water hurts, Fraser, and why couldn't Rob do it himself? It's not the RCMP's job to make sure Jilly Norton gets her bedtime bath."

I looked at the seal, and it did look cold. Not quite twisted up with pain, but aware there was pain in the ice, and that the cold could kill. Suddenly I realised what I'd missed in Ray's carvings. It was emotion. The cat sitting waiting to be wrapped for transport was boredom, the dragon half-hidden under a newspaper was sadness, the large bear in the corner was rage.

I looked at all the feelings captured in wood around me: spikes and harsh tool marks, angles and rough-hewn edges. Evidence of strong emotions I hadn't realised Ray was feeling. I had to ask, "Ray, why are you still here?"

Ray smiled at me, seemingly serene. "Fraser, you're such an idiot."

He handed me the angel he'd been working on. As with everything else he made, it felt harsh in my hands. I looked at it, not sure what I'd find. It was a ragged, androgynous creature, like some angel of vengeance, one who'd traded in feathers for something with more speed. It reminded me of Ray. I turned it over and its face took my breath away. The cuts were rough and stylised, but the emotion I could see there...

"You get it now?" Ray whispered, his breath warm against my ear. He was so close I could feel the warmth of his body all down my right side.

"Yes," I said, and turned, my face inches from his.

"About damned time. I thought I was going to have to beat you over the head with the bear."

My laughter was stopped by his kiss, I slid my hands up his back, and I was almost surprised when I didn't feel wings.

The End.