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Pointy Chin.
A Fraser/Kowalski story.
thanks to Dee for the thoughtful beta.
So I was driving him home, "him" being Fraser, and I was still buzzing
from the lineup and the cemetery and the excitement. Big day. Very
big day. We saved the real Vecchio's butt today.
So I was a little worked up and kind of jumpy, and something was bugging
me. Lingering. Not a lot, just a little, but I turned to Fraser anyway
and asked: "Do you really think I'm attractive or were you just being
nice in front of the perps?"
He looked at me with those big, honest eyes and said, "Pardon?"
I think he's taken classes in being annoying. But I repeated myself
anyway: "Do you honestly think I'm attractive? Maybe I'm being--necrotic,
but I really want to know."
Fraser gave me a confused look. "I would hardly call you necrotic, Ray--"
I cut him off. "Yeah? Okay."
He ran his thumb over his eyebrow and sighed. "I really and truly think
you're attractive."
"Okay. Because you don't have to be nice."
"I would never let niceness stand in the way of the truth." He probably
also took classes in being earnest, but it's okay, because I believe
him.
"And the glasses are quite striking as well," he said, and this time
I didn't believe him.
"Striking like a punch to the head, you mean. I know what my glasses
look like."
"No, striking as in, ah, attractive. They emphasize your eyes and your
pointed chin."
Stoplight. "Pointy chin? Pointy chin? That's not a good feature,
Fraser."
"Well, it can be. It would have been of great assistance to me when
I went undercover in the girls' school. I've been told that my square
chin is the main reason I didn't pass entirely."
With that I had to stare at him for a while, until the guy behind me
started honking. He didn't even blink. Poker face. I hit the gas.
"I'd call you a liar but I know you're not lying. You dressed up as
a woman to go undercover in a school for girls?"
"I did indeed. I was helping Detective Vecchio on an unofficial case,
you see. It was most enlightening." He smiled then, all understated.
"It was rather amusing that you asked me my opinion if I were a woman,
since I do in fact have some feminine experience to draw upon."
So I thought about that, trying to picture Fraser in a dress. It made
my head hurt. Did he wear the hat? "It's too bad you're, um--" Gay.
"Canadian. Some guys dream of covert ops in an all-girl school."
Sue me for thinking he was gay. When we went out to dinner a few days
ago the waitress sat in his lap, I mean sat in his lap
and he just ordered the lasagna and asked her politely to get off him.
But he just gave me this little look under his eyelashes, like he could
look into my head and see the "gay" after the "um." "I've been in the
United States for over two years now, Ray. I'm just--polite."
I think he did see it, and he didn't mind, and he was yanking my leg
if I could just figure out how. But I couldn't quite figure it out so
I just said: "Freak."
He smiled a little wider. He knew I didn't mean anything bad by that;
I like freaks. Freaks are my favorite people. So me and Fraser, I think
we can be buddies.
I pulled over because we arrived at the Consulate. He opened the door
and paused. "You know, Ray, I may have a picture taken at the school
dance, if you'd like to see it." Still with that little grin.
"Sure," said I. As if I would miss that. I let him out and parked the
car for real.
He was waiting at the door, saying "I'll make tea." Okay, tea. I can
learn to drink tea. What's a little tea between friends?
Turnbull was at the front desk as always. "Good evening, sir! And Detective
Vecchio, welcome to the consulate. I won't ask what your business is,"
he said with a deliberate wink.
"It's quite all right, Constable, we're here unofficially."
"Ah, incognito!" I have this theory. I think Turnbull's playing a game.
A really complicated one with the whole world as players and him as the
Dungeon Master. That's the only way I can make sense of the guy.
"No--simply--oh, never mind. This way, Ray." He took me back to the
kitchen. Would you like Earl Grey, or maybe chamomile or a nice Darjeeling?"
"Uh." Do I know tea? No, I do not know tea. "You pick."
"All right...Earl Grey is always pleasant." He put the kettle on. "Hm."
Oh no, no no no, not "hm."
"I'll be right back, Ray," and with that he left the room. I didn't
even want to think about it. There's no telling what that guy can get
into when he has a good "hm" going. But lucky for me he came back a
couple minutes later, waving a snapshot. "I found a picture, Ray--Turnbull
had it. I'm not entirely sure why."
"Let me see that--" The kettle started whistling and he went to answer
it, handing the picture to me as he crossed the room. I took a look.
Sure enough, there was Fraser in a dress and a wig, doing what looked
like disco moves with--"Wait, you're dancing with Vecchio?"
"I am. We're cutting a carpet." Fraser smiled, looking pleased with
the situation.
"A rug, Fraser, cutting a rug." They were kind of amateur, but they
didn't look embarrassed. How about that.
"Cutting a rug, thank you."
I took a closer look at Fraser in drag. He really did almost pass, which
was a neat trick for such a guy's guy. "Not so bad looking though.
Kind of hot."
"Thank you kindly." Fraser smiled again. He traded me a mug of tea
for the picture and stuck it in his pocket.
I slurped at the tea. Not bad, but not coffee. When I looked up at
Fraser he was staring at my chin.
"Fraser, you're staring at my chin."
"Am I?" His eyes snapped up about six inches north.
"Yeah, you were definitely staring. What is it with you and my chin,
anyway?"
"Well, it's a simple--association. You have a rather nice chin, and
when I see a chin like that, I think--osculate."
"Osculate." Osculate, osculate--okay. Osculating fan. He wants to
shake my chin? "Fraser, that's kind of weird."
"Is it?" He looked kind of down.
"Yeah, that's really weird." I had visions of him twisting my head like
the stem of an apple, and checked my watch. "Oh, jeez, I have to get
going. See you tomorrow, Fraser."
"Of course, Ray."
He walked me to the door, still down in the mouth; maybe he really had
his heart set on spinning me like a top, I don't know. I didn't really
want to think about it. The Mountie is a good guy but he's all kinds
of weird.
When I was two blocks away I pulled out the pocket dictionary. Yes,
I keep a dictionary in the glove box. It's left over from when Stella
had me learning a word a day, okay? Which was a big failure, because
all the words just got jumbled up, but I keep the dictionary around anyway.
See, I realized that it wasn't "osculating fan"--that was something else
that started with "os," so I had no idea what "osculate" meant. I hauled
out the dictionary and there it was: "osculate," to kiss.
Well.
FUCK.
He was flirting right back at me and I didn't even know it.
I punched the steering wheel; I almost turned around and went back, but
it was too embarrassing, so I just went home.
end.
all comments, positive or negative or in between, are very welcome.
bas@yosa.com
www.ravenswing.com/bas/slash
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