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Author's Notes: Written for the very amusing "Cliche Challenge" on ds_flashfiction. This story answers "Cliche #6, aka the X-Files Memorial Cliche," in which two characters are forced to share a bed, and hijinks ensue.

Story Notes:

THERE'S THE RUB

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"Fraser! What are -- hey!"

"Mmm, Ray, Ray, yes, Ray, I -- oh. Oh. Ohhhhhh!"

"Fraser. . .!"

"Mmm--uhnnnn, that's it Ray, right there, right there--"

"Wake up, dammit, Fraser!"

"What. . .I. . .Ray. . .uh. . .what?"

"Fraser, cut it out."

"Ray? Oh, oh. . .no. No."

"Yes, yes, yes, Fraser. Are you awake yet?"

"Yes, I. . .Oh, Ray, I'm. . .what were we doing?"

"Not us, Fraser, you. You were humping my leg. Jeez. Humping my leg in your sleep, like you were Dief or something."

"Oh, Ray. . .I'm so. Oh dear. . .don't know what to say. . .I. . .oh, my."

"Wow. That's some piece of wood you're sportin' there, Benton buddy."

"Please, Ray. This is embarrassing enough without joking about it. I apologize. I must have been dreaming about, er, something."

"Gee, ya think?"

"There's no need to compound this with sarcasm, Ray. I told you earlier I would sleep on the floor, and I shall."

"Nuh-uh. Come back here. I don't think so."

"I've done it before."

"Yeah, I'm sure you have, but it's forty below in here with the fire, and I don't wanna be responsible for turning you into a Popsicle. This bed sucks. Ever think about putting a double bed into this cabin? Or a guest cot? A futon? An air mattress?"

"I've only ever been here alone."

"Never with Vecchio?"

"No."

"Oh. I thought. . ."

"What?"

"Nothing. Hey, ever hear of planning for the future, Fraser? What were you planning to do when you get married, live in a double-wide igloo?"

"I never figured on having much of a future with anyone, Ray. It. . .it never seemed likely."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I know you haven't had much. . .look, I don't mean to rib you, Fraser. Sorry."

"No, Ray, I'm sorry. About -- this. Sorry about the whole trip, actually. I should have known there was another blizzard coming. I should have--"

"--Woulda coulda shoulda, Fraser. Forget it."

"Please let me apologize again, Ray. I have no idea what came over me."

"Don't you?"

"No, of course not."

"Come on."

"Really, Ray, please, you don't think I meant to do -- that."

"Oh, so you're saying you weren't dreaming about you and me? You and me doing it? That what you're saying?"

"I don't know what I was dreaming, Ray."

"Liar."

"I most certainly am not. You know, Ray, the conscious mind does not always retain the images of a dream after--"

"You were moaning and calling my name, Fraser. 'Ray! Ray! Ray!' Like that. And humping my leg."

"The subconscious often presents images in dreams that represent entirely different things. Puns are prevalent. 'Ray' might, for example, refer to rays of the sun, and with this ongoing blizzard I may merely be looking forward to the return of the--"

"--original Ray Vecchio."

"Yes. No. No! That's not what I was going to say. Look, can we forget it, please? Once again, I apologize."

"Quit apologizing. Hey, come on, take a breath. I didn't mean to. . .It's, it's okay, I understand. It happens. Look, I get horny too. God knows I need to get laid."

"Can we not talk about this?"

"If that's what you want, Frase. If that's what you really want."

"I--"

"--Because the truth is I didn't really mind all that much. Not really. Yeah, okay, the bed sucks but, actually, it was nice and warm with you all pressed up against me like that. Toasty. Nice. It didn't bother me."

"It didn't?"

"Nope."

"You're sure?"

"Totally."

"Not even a little?"

"Fraser."

"Then. . .well, forgive me if I am pressing the issue, but if you were comfortable and my, ermm, actions weren't bothering you, then why did you wake me up? Why did you stop me?"

"Because."

"Because what, Ray?"

"Because it's not my leg that needs to get laid, Fraser. It's not my leg that wants you."

". . .!"

"You still with me, Benton buddy?"

"Y-yes, Ray. Forgive me, but. . .You're not saying you. . ."

"Yes, I am."

". . .That you'd want to. . ."

"Yes."

". . .With me."

"Only with you."

"Well. I'm. . ."

"Disgusted?"

"No, Ray. Just a bit. . .surprised."

"Yeah, me, too, I guess. Kinda crept up on me."

"When?"

"Don't know. A while now."

"Since we started the quest?"

"Before."

"How much before?"

"Not too long."

"How long?"

"Eighteen months or so."

"Eighteen. . .! So you mean--"

"--Yeah, pretty much from the day we met."

"The day we. . ."

"Okay, maybe the next one. First day was kinda hectic, what with the driving around in a burning car and all."

"True."

"So. . .?"

"So?"

"C'mon, I'm waiting for an answer. I can hear you breathing, and hello, I see your friend Woody is back, so, whaddya say?"

"Ray, I, uh, could you. . ."

"What?"

"You were touching me in the dream."

"Like. . ."

"Ah, ah, AH!"

". . .that?"

"Oh yes, ah, just like that."

"Hah, I knew you were lying. You remembered the dream."

"The details are coming back to me. Uhhhhmmmmm."

"Oh, yeah, that feels good. You feel good, Fraser. So that's a yes?"

"I think. . ."

"Don't think, Fraser. Do. Yes or no."

"I, uhm. Yes, yes, Ray."

"Good. C'mere."

"Mmm, Ray, Ray, yes, Ray, I -- oh. Oh. Ohhhhhh!"

"I think this is where I came in. I -- oh, jeezus, that is way better than my leg. Oh, god, what ya got there, Fraser, a log?"

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. RAY!"

"Okay, okay, settle down. We got all night."

"Probably. . .uhhhh. . .more than. . .uhhhmm. . .that, Ray, if the weather. . .uuhhhnn, oh, my."

"And we got a nice, soft, single bed here. What else could we--ohhhh, holy Christ, do that again! Yeah, just like that. Shit! Where'd you learn to do--aahhh!"

"You mean--"

"Aah!"

"--that?"

"Aaahhhmmmm, yeah, that."

"Have no idea. It just felt right, Ray."

"Ho, yeah, I'll say. You ever done this before?"

"No, Ray."

"No kidding?"

"Not that I remember."

"Ho ho ho. Funny.You're a talented beginner, you know that, Fraser?"

"Thank you kindly, Ray. Ahhh. Ohhh. Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you very kindly indeed."

"Ohgodohchristohjeezoh*Fraser!"*

"Yes, Ray?"

"Forget what I said. I love this bed. Love it. It's perfect."

End There's the Rub by Shay Sheridan: RedChance@aol.com

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