Author's website: http://www.trickster.org/kass/

Disclaimer: Boys are theirs, words are mine.

Author's Notes: In response to the courtesy challenge at the lj community ds_flashfiction. Thanks to Sihaya Black for beta.

Story Notes:

Ask

I woke up three days before Christmas in a pit, and I couldn't see my way out. Stella was happy with what's-his-fuck: even an idiot could see that. I didn't want to spend the weekend with my parents, who obviously thought I was a pathetic loser. Hell, I thought I was a pathetic loser, too. So I got myself hammered.

Fraser came by to bring me a gift, which turned out to be fancy coffee he bought at a kiosk at the mall because he finally figured out I wasn't interested in moose-fat liniment or homemade pemmican or whatever, and found me slumped on the couch in the dark.

"Ray? Are you all right?" He turned on a lamp and I winced.

"'M fine. Been thinking." If I stuck with easy words, I wasn't slurring. Much.

"About?"

I closed my eyes, which helped with the whole bright-light thing. "Why I'm spending Christmas alone. Again. Why Stella left me. Why I'll never be able to get her back, and it's pitiful that I even keep trying. Why I'll be alone for the rest of my entire goddamned life, because I'm putting out vibes of loser-dom, and no one wants to sleep with a loser."

He sat beside me on the couch. "You're overstating the situation. I'm sure a lot of people want to date you."

And, drunk idiot that I was, I blurted out, "You don't, so who cares?"

Next thing I knew he was manhandling me upright and yanking my clothes off, which got me panicked and hard as a rock at the same time. I tried to put my arms around him, but he kept me firmly at arms-length -- he's stronger than he looks -- and steered me into the shower. Which was, thank God, not on cold, although I still yelped.

An hour later, wrapped in a robe with my hair standing on end six different ways, having eaten half a package of Fig Newtons and worked my way through four glasses of water (on his demand) and a cup and a half of my new coffee (on mine), I finally got up the nerve to ask what the hell was going on.

He took a deep breath. "You're a very attractive man, Ray." All earnest. "Not to mention loyal, and funny, and far smarter than you seem to give yourself credit for. Self-deprecation doesn't suit you. Your romantic prospects are far richer than you seem to think."

And when he'd finished that little speech, he stopped.

"You needed to sober me up to tell me that?" It was kind of sweet, admittedly, but I was starting to feel like a yo-yo. Nobody wants me...wait, he might want me!...no, he's putting me in the shower...maybe he doesn't want me afterall...but he thinks somebody else might want me...what the fuck?

"I needed to sober you up to make sure you know that you have options," he corrected. "I don't want to be Hobson's choice."

Now I was really confused. "Who's Hobson?"

He smiled, like he couldn't help himself. "No, it's -- what I mean is, I don't want you to choose me out of the misguided sense that you have no alternatives."

My head was spinning, and not from the drink. "But you'd be okay with being chosen?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking, as long as you're sure--"

And that was when it hit me. I'd been holding back 'cause I've been burned more times than I can count. Most of them since Stella moved out, because I'm the kind of asshole who can't let go of something good even when it's not good anymore. Plus I'd never actually hit on a guy: I'd been hit on, but I wasn't sure how to start things, and I figured with my luck he'd be offended because I'd come across as impolite.

Fraser'd been holding back because he was trying to be gentlemanly. It was a ladies-first kind of thing, only I'm about as far from ladylike as a guy with my build can be, so I guess he's just used to putting himself second. It's a sure-fire way of making sure you're seeing to everybody else's needs. Except when those needs include you, by which I mean Fraser, making a goddamned move.

Which neither of us was going to do, because we were trying to be so fucking courteous. We were like a pair of doormen, waving to get the other guy to go through first. 'No, you first, I insist.' 'No, please, be my guest.'

Before he could finish his sentence, I was laughing. So hard I almost doubled over.

"Ray?" He sounded concerned now, like he thought I'd really snapped.

After a few minutes I managed to sit straight, and wipe my eyes, and smile at him. Really smile at him. I could see some of the tension draining out of him, the line of his body changing, even though he didn't know what I was smiling about yet.

I stood up, and held out a hand to him, and tried to phrase it as politely as I possibly could. "Fraser, do you think you might be able to spend Christmas with me, and maybe New Year's--" he was standing now, hand in mine, face starting to light up "--and maybe even take some vacation days so we can spend some time learning how to properly fuck each other through the floor?"

Just before his mouth met mine, he grazed the side of my face with his lips and murmured, in a low voice that set every hair on my body standing up in pure excitement, "Why, Ray, I thought you'd never ask."

(950 words)

End Ask by Kass: kass@trickster.org

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