Author's Notes: Prompt by alden_k: "I know it's always pretty good with us, but that was really, really good."
•••
It wasn't the morning light coming in at the wrong angle that woke him, although that was certainly indicative of the situation - he'd overslept by hours. Not a disaster, as the Consulate wouldn't be opened until the afternoon, but it wasn't his habit to sleep in simply because he could, either (steady habits make for consistent performance.) Fraser was frowning already as his eyes snapped open, to stare at the light golden and admonitory across the ceiling.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said.
"Taking Dief for a run?" Fraser went up on an elbow and looked at him. "What, you don't believe me?"
"Given the sound that woke me, I'd say I believe you're running."
Ray's mouth moved and the car keys dropped from his hand, making another damning clatter when they hit.
After the ensuing silence, Fraser swung himself off the cot and stood, naked and formal, taking the few steps necessary to walk a guest to the door. "Well. I suppose I should thank you for a... lovely evening." He put a hand on the doorknob, his back as straight as at parade rest. Dignity is internal. Nudity is external. Besides, he'd bared himself for Ray already, and Ray would just have to face that - once.
His defaulting partner hovered by the door, almost weightless, still hunched like a burglar, mouth hanging open. Heavy-lidded eyes roamed restlessly, from Fraser's face to his chest to the keys by his feet, near and quickly away from his groin, his mouth, his eyes, running and catching up short like a dog on a lead.
Cowardice. He was pitiful. And Fraser more so.
"Fraser, that was just one of those things, those things that happen. Sometimes guys do things they don't mean to, and they don't talk about. Ever. I didn't mean... When, when I said..."
"I see." And unfortunately he did, very clearly. "I won't keep you."
Ray's wandering eyes settled on the door handle. Fraser's hand tightened and prepared to turn it. A tiny noise jumped out of Ray's throat and words followed in an awkward rush, "Please don't... don't make this easy?"
Fraser would have laughed if he had any laughter in him, but he'd rarely felt so much like a block of wood. The toy soldier Ray thought he was.
"I'm not trying to make it anything," he said, in a monotone.
"Fraser. I can't walk out on you."
And with that strangely hypocritical protest - for all the world as if Fraser were the one leaving - Ray looked up.
Everything stopped. Slowly, it started again.
"I'm glad to hear that."
He felt his face softening, the corners of his mouth turning up.
Ray's eyes were naked and sincere. And he could see something in them after all, as golden and warming and out of place as the sun coming in high through the window.
••
"Fraser, Fraser, nobody - nobody ever-" the insanity of it, the amazingness of, the immense, all his words got lost as it slammed him inside out and shut him down, arm buckling, slipping against the sweat on Fraser's chest, face hitting the pillow.
And when he came back to himself, the amazingness was still there, like the strong clutching arms against his, limp and heavy now. This close to passing out entirely, his body blown like a fuse, up against the edge of the world's narrowest most uncomfortable metal cot he would have said couldn't fit two people, floating like it was a waterbed. Done. No one'd ever been more done. But when his breath came back for some stupid, stupid reason he kept talking, like he thought he wasn't finished, "Never been like that. This is not something I can get over, you know that, you own me. God. I don't know how this happened. This is it, you're the..."
Finally the shut-up voice got strong enough to overpower the shoot-me-now-stupid voice and start passing along some useful fucking advice, way fucking too late. Stop, stop, stop stoppitystopstopstop! was most of it, but there was also some Moron! moron!-type stuff, motor-mouthed braincase loser! High on something that's not what you think it is.
Because Fraser, ... Yeah. Right. For him?
You're supposed to talk during sex, it's all good. Yell anything while you're coming, that works. But those quiet times afterwards, when you're remembering you're not alone, that part counts against you.
Christ, what had he just... Maybe Fraser was asleep.
"Ray, I had no idea," Fraser said, the sound coming from further down the cot, his deep lunkhead voice careful in the dark.
No free pass to it didn't happen. No card that says get-out-of-loserville.
Maybe Ray could be asleep, if he tried hard enough.
Yeah.
Working.
"Hm," Fraser said.
•
The explosion was deafening, but only temporarily.
The last shrapnel rained down around them, pattering on the concrete of the industrial park, dark chemical smoke rising to the sky. They'd gotten behind partial cover before it blew, but it was still very lucky that neither of them had been wounded. Not even scraped, not even Ray. They lay stretched on the pavement and panted at each other in silent triumph.
It was at times like this that Fraser thought he had all he wanted out of life.
Together they had rescued themselves, the hostage, and the remaining perpetrators in quick succession before the payload ignited, as well as making off with the bill of lading from the marked crate and relocating, if by unorthodox means, the explosives from the key support beam to an area more able to contain the damage. They'd managed to previously alert the precinct in passing and backup swarmed all around them, a herd of squad cars and officers. His rapidly returning hearing rang with sirens and shouts, no gunfire. A fine day's work.
Ray licked his lips, trying to speak. Eventually he coughed his throat clear and essayed it at only slightly exaggerated volume. "See, what did I tell you? I set them up..."
"And they knock us down," Fraser suggested.
Ray laughed through his nose and looked shifty. "So it's got a few kinks in it still." He poked Fraser in the side. "C'mon. I know it's always pretty good with us, but that was really, really good."
Simply undeniable. Fraser wanted to agree, but that would have been immodest. In fact, he wanted to say something like, "We strode the narrow world like demigods, brash and immortal." He wanted to say, "Of course, if you'd been wearing your glasses, none of this..." He wanted to say, "Ray. Hold still."
Above all he wanted this never to end, and for the moment it seemed it never had to.
And Ray was smiling back as if it were the same for him, a true partnership, two minds with one thought, two hearts with one wish, just like that sunlit afternoon on the deck of the Henry Allen.
"Hey! Are you two done basking in the afterglow already? 'Cause we could use some help wrapping this up."
It made almost too much sense to register at first. Fraser had a moment of guilty shock then as he processed the remark, located Dewey standing at their feet, saw his cheerful, impatient scowl, his mouth moving. That obvious. He'd been that helplessly, dangerously obvious. No, it was intended as humour. But dangerous all the same. What if...
But skimming his eyes rapidly back to Ray's familiar face, he didn't see quite what he expected. Anger - amusement - confusion - all directed at Dewey, or embarrassment and a quick avoidance, none of those would have surprised him. But while Ray was clearly startled, he'd looked back to Fraser as well. With something more like nervousness or his own fear. And in that moment as they regarded each other, just a trace, a split second of calculation.
Fraser went deaf to the world again. They got to their knees, to their feet. Dusted gravel off their hands. They obeyed orders.
Calculation. What could that have been? Judging whether Fraser understood? Or... understanding things himself? Considering it? The possibility... could be a possibility. In that case. The other things Fraser wanted out of life stopped playing dead at once, surged up in a row like statues coming to life, brazen and powerful. They seized control without a fight and he nearly growled as he caught up to Ray's retreating form, walking a little closer than usual on their way to the nearest squad car. Ray probably felt the breath on his neck.
But then, he'd shown no signs of minding.
Ever.
End After by joandarck
Author and story notes above.
Please post a comment on this story.