Story Notes: Originally done in May 2008 for Queue's birthday community, onthe_qt--which has a lot of nifty stuff, check it out!

Ray's scrubbing out Fraser's lunch-bucket thing when Fraser practically gives him a heart attack.

Fraser's got this weird kind of--interlocking-metal-bowls-and-lids contraption, all held together with a handle, and when he packs it for lunch he makes a big deal out of putting the hot things in the top bowl so the heat doesn't rise up through the salad course and the dessert course that are supposed to stay cold. He's the only person Ray's ever met who packs a lunch with courses.

He kept offering to buy Ray a bucket-thing when they started packing lunch every day, part of the big Save Up For a House project. Ray had to explain that maybe a shiny lunchbucket is fine in mini-Canada but it would get him beat up in a Chicago police precinct, and some plastic containers thrown in a gym bag will do him just fine, thank you. (Plus when he forgets one of the plastic containers in his locker at work for a few days and doesn't notice it until it's covered with blue muppet fur--he doesn't feel bad about throwing the plastic ones out. Not that he'd tell Fraser that.)

So anyway, he's standing at the sink scrubbing away and humming "Shitlist," or, really, gargling it, because you kind of have to, when Fraser walks up behind him totally silently and, all at once, puts his mouth on Ray's neck and his hand on Ray's crotch.

"Jesus CHRIST!" Ray yells, and throws the scrubber sponge in one direction and the metal bowl in another. There's a splat and a clang, and Fraser giggles into his neck.

"Warn a guy," Ray says, but he's relaxing back into Fraser already, and thinking: hey, this is good. Because Fraser's gotten a lot better, over the past few months, about asking for what he wants in bed once Ray's made it clear that, yeah, he's up for funtime. But out of bed, just grabbing a piece of Ray like that, like "Yeah, this is mine!" ? That's new.

"Wasn't sure you were gonna get out of bed at all today. Slacker," Ray says, and turns his head to get a kiss. And the kiss Fraser gives him isn't the friendly little peck kind, it is most definitely a let's-start-something kind, and Ray's day, which seeing how it's a Saturday was pretty good already, improves considerably.

"Thanks for letting me sleep," Fraser says, and nuzzles at his ear. "I trust Dief's morning constitutional wasn't too much of a burden."

"Nah, I like walking him, all the ladies chat me up," Ray says, and Fraser gives him a low snarly noise and actually puts a little teeth into the nuzzle, geez.

"Somebody's in a much better mood," Ray says, and reaches awkwardly back to pet Fraser's hair.

"Just glad it's over," Fraser says. The past couple of weeks had been pretty rough on--both of them, really. There was some kind of big important conference on Canadian water rights and laws to do with rivers and dams, and it had ended up being held in the little Chicago scrap of Canada because apparently all the big parts of Canada were so pissed at each other that nobody was willing for any other province to hold the conference. So Fraser'd basically spent two weeks keeping people civil who really, really didn't want to be. And from what he'd explained to Ray there was a huge stink over exactly how many people should be in each province's delegation, and who got to stay at the Consulate and who had to stay in hotels, and who couldn't possibly be put in rooms next to each other or seated at the conference table next to each other. "And," Fraser had confided wearily, one of the few nights he hadn't been too tired to even have a conversation after he finally got home, "two delegates from different provinces are rumored to have been, ah, intimate in the past, and do seem to loathe each other with a special ferocity that suggests previous affection."

"So, what you're saying," Ray said, "is that it's like that old word problem with the chicken and the fox and the bag of corn and you've got one canoe that only fits two of them, except that they're all wearing suits, and the fox and the chicken used to fuck?"

"That's--that's really very precise, Ray," Fraser said, and his eyes closed and he was out, right there on the couch.

Pretty much all their interactions in the last two weeks had been like that. But this interaction is much better, because Fraser's pressing up hard against Ray's back and getting one hand up under his shirt, and he's still working on Ray's ear, "hmmming" into it and giving it little tongueflicks.

Ray presses back, and then he notices that--man, he thought he was amped up after two sex-free weeks, but the water's still running in the sink and Fraser hasn't even mentioned the wastefulness. Wow.

Ray cuts the faucet off and tries to turn around, but Fraser breathes, "Uh-uh," into his ear, which sends a frizzy jolt down his nerves and makes him feel like his leg is shorter on that side, somehow. Then Fraser pulls Ray's shirt off and just wraps his arms around and squeezes for a minute, and that's really nice, but not as nice as when he starts kissing and nipping at Ray's shoulders, Ray fucking loves that. He raises up on his toes a little, trying to push more of himself up into Fraser's teeth.

"Nrrgh," Fraser says, and does some kind of complicated porn-fu maneuver with one hand between Ray's thighs and one under his arm that ends up with Ray getting dropped, mostly gently, on the kitchen floor, and then Fraser lands on top of him, not gently, excellent.

Fraser kisses him for a long time then, pushy and thorough, stretched out full-length on top of Ray. And then he starts grinding down into him a little, which pushes Ray's hips into the hard floor, but Ray is so far from caring about the hardness of the floor that caring is in another time zone.

Ray breathes "yeah," into Fraser's mouth, over and over, and gets his hands all over every place he can reach, Fraser's hair and back and ass. Stroking and gripping and just appreciating.

They kiss and neck and rub for so long that Ray's cock starts to hurt a little, trapped in between them and throbbing in time with the come on come on come on chanting in his head, and right when he's gonna have to say something is when Fraser eases off him and starts unzipping Ray's jeans. Ray babbles something about how Fraser is perfect and a genius and a perfect fucking genius. Fraser slides the jeans and boxers down, and then Ray's thinking he's probably gonna tease until Ray begs, which would take about twenty-three seconds at this point. But Fraser just goes right down on him, not even one second of tease; takes Ray's whole cock in his hot mouth and moans like Ray was doing him a favor, God. And sometimes Ray can hold on and take a good long time to come from this, stretch it out and wallow in it for ages, but not today. Not after two practically Fraser-free weeks. And not with this lead-in--not with Fraser just jumping him.

So, no, it's not long at all before Ray's coming, holding onto Fraser's shoulders and rocking up into his mouth and making little noises that would be whimpers if he weren't so totally fucking manly.

And then he's just useless. He ought to do something for Fraser, he ought to put together a plan to do something for Fraser, but all he can think is, why did I think the floor was uncomfortable? The floor is my friend. I'm just gonna pass out right here on the nice comfy friendly floor, okay?

But Fraser's crawling up Ray's body now, and Fraser grabs Ray's hand with his and now both their hands are covered with lube that Fraser had in his pocket or something, because Fraser is a perfect fucking genius, and Fraser wraps both their slick hands around his cock. Ray helps out, which given how many brain cells he's got right now means he lets Fraser move his hand, but whatever--it works and soon Fraser comes warm all over Ray's stomach. Ray loves to watch him when he comes, the lip biting and the tight-closed eyes and the tossed-back head.

Fraser slumps down onto him, and when the endorphins fade a little that's gonna be uncomfortable as hell and they'll have to move it to the couch, but not right now.

Right now Ray wraps his arms around Fraser, says, "Hey, what got into you? Not complaining. At all."

Fraser raises his head, and Ray really thought he'd seen all the varieties of Fraser-happy; the standard "just came, whoo!" happy, and the "wrapped up a difficult case!" happy, and the "someone just gave me a conversational opening to insert a completely bewildering story about an Arctic mammal!" happy. But this is new--this is a kind of stunned-looking happy. What the hell?

"I just," Fraser says, and has to stop to smile some more. "You haven't complained about what an utterly tedious companion I've been recently, and you let me sleep, and you took Dief out, and when I came out of the bedroom you'd already made coffee and you were washing my dishes, and it just felt really. Permanent."

Ray blinks at him, because, my God, Fraser just got that Ray's not going anywhere? Finally he manages, "You didn't get that from, 'Hey, let's buy a house together!' but you got it from dishes?"

"The abstract is in the concrete, Ray," Fraser says, and if he keeps smiling like that he's going to sprain something.

"You are a crazy person," Ray says, and reaches out to run his thumb along Fraser's new smile.