Disclaimer: Sigh. Not mine. Sigh.
Feedback: Public or private, good or bad, I want it all! katherinef@softhome.net
Spoilers: not really.
Pairing: BF/RK
Summary: No plot, hence no summary. I think that's fair, don't you?
Distribution: Feel free to cross-post this anywhere, but please tell me where it goes.
Notes: Does anyone remember "The Piglet Files"? Nope? It's just me? Oh, well. This little puppy was inspired by a scene from that long-forgotten sitcom. This is my first DS fanfic.

     Verisimilitude
     by Katherine F.

They're being chased. Isn't *that* a surprise.

Down streets, along alleys, left, right, duck, turn, Fraser never more than two steps ahead of him though Ray knows for sure that he can run faster than that.

//Of course, that's Fraser all over.//

If Ray wasn't gasping for breath and fighting the burn in his calf and thigh muscles he'd be smiling right now. But there are more important matters at hand, viz and to wit: making sure they don't get the bejeezus blown out of them.

As they pass by yet another graffiti-covered brownstone, Ray resolves that when

//if//

they get out of this, he's going to have a *long* talk with Fraser about gang members, and what it is and is not a good idea to say to them if you want to end the day with as many appendages as you started it with. Of course things like this never happen when Fraser's in jeans. God forbid he should cause trouble when he's wearing clothes that might actually allow him to *blend in*.

Ray likes the way Fraser looks in uniform, but he's damned if he thinks it's worth getting killed for.

The next turn puts a nice, comfortable distance between them and their pursuers; not comfortable enough for a rest, but comfortable enough that Ray's sneakers aren't leaving rubber on the asphalt any more, and Fraser cocks his head to one side a little before ducking into an alley Ray's never seen.

//Come to think of it, this whole neighbourhood is pretty unfamiliar...//

-- but he doesn't have time to consider that thought before Fraser has grabbed his shirtfront, pulled him close to the wall, and kissed him.

Ray is, momentarily, too stunned to respond. He is pressed up close to Fraser's chest, and he can feel the buttons of the uniform digging into his own, which is kinda painful, but hey, he's not complaining, not when Fraser's tongue is licking at his with such enthusiasm and (amazingly) skill. Fraser's lips are soft

//so soft, softer than I ever imagined//

and warm and his mouth tastes of sweet tea. His chin is slightly rough with stubble but the skin of his cheek is smooth where it presses against the tip of Ray's nose, and Ray is beginning to think that maybe that Eskimo-kiss thing makes some sense after all, because stroking Fraser's cheek with his nose feels alarmingly good.

Then Fraser breaks the kiss off as suddenly as he started it, and peers anxiously round the corner. He turns to Ray and says, slightly out of breath,

//the running? or the kiss?//

"I think we've lost them, Ray."

It takes Ray a moment to get his brain firing on enough cylinders that he can figure out what Fraser's talking about, and by the time he's done that Fraser is out of the alley and going back the way they came, uniform straightened up and hat back on. Ray follows him, his heart pounding like a kettle drum and his lungs feeling scoured and empty.

He spends the -- silent -- walk back to the GTO mentally replaying the kiss, examining it from every angle in an attempt to come up with a rational explanation. By the time they get to the car he's tied his brain in several complicated knots which could, he knows, be cut through quite easily if he just

//jumped over a cliff//

*asked*.

So while he's fumbling through his pockets for the keys, he says, careful not to look too directly at Fraser lest he lose his nerve,

"Fraser, what *was* that?"

"What was what, Ray?"

Ray forces himself to look up, and finds that Fraser is looking at him with his usual don't-mind-me-I'm-just-a-dumb-Canadian expression, as if he *genuinely* doesn't know what Ray is talking about, and, Fraser being Fraser, that might even be true.

"You know what I mean. That -- *thing* you did in the alley. What was that about?"

"Ah. Well, I thought that our pursuers were most likely looking out for my uniform, and, that being so, I felt the best way to shake them off would be to render it invisible by using you as a shield."

Ray nods

//so far so Fraser//

and continues, "And you didn't think the sight of two guys making out might be just as conspicuous as a red uniform?"

"Actually, no. That alley is -- well, it's, ah...somewhat notorious for such activities."

Ray grins.

//'Notorious for such activities'. Ha!//

He knows that if he asks Fraser "which activities?" or "and how do *you* know that?", one of two things will happen: Fraser will go off on a completely unrelated conversational tangent involving hunting anecdotes and Inuit stories, thereby avoiding the question entirely...or his head will explode.

//Which leaves just one question...//

"So why'd you slip me the tongue?"

And Fraser...hesitates. Blushes. Opens his mouth and closes it once, twice, three times -- before answering, his tone as even and his smile as bland as ever:

"Verisimilitude."

"Verisimilitude?"

"Yes, Ray, verisimilitude, as in 'the property of being verisimilar, resemblance to the truth--'"

"I know what 'verisimilitude' means, Fraser." He shakes his head in disbelief. "So...that was all it was about?"

"Yes, Ray."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

Pause. Blush. Fidget.

//Wait for it...//

"Well, actually, no."

"Aha!"

"You see, Ray, I -- I mean to say that you and I...well, for some time..."

Ray smiles and raises his eyebrows. Go on, says his face, I'm listening.

//And if this turns out to be what I think it is...//

"...I have been -- well, attracted to you, and I'm afraid to say that our enforced proximity, combined with the necessity for subterfuge, seems to have -- well, to have turned my head somewhat, and that being so, Ray, I must offer you my most sincere apologies for taking advantage -- "

"Fraser!"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Gasp. Frown. "R-Ray?"

"Oh, so you're deaf now too? Okay, I'll enunciate clearly and you can read my lips: Shut. Up. And. Kiss. Me."

"Ray, are you quite sure that's -- "

//Well, it's like Mom always said: if you want something done, you gotta do it yourself...//

So Ray steps forward and, grabbing Fraser by the lanyard, kisses him, long and hard and thoroughly.

It isn't a subtle kiss, by any manner of means, but then subtlety has never been Ray's strong point; and there are moments when all that's needed is to make one's point as forcefully as possible. By the time Ray has pulled back from Fraser and they are both glassy-eyed and panting, Ray rather thinks that his point has been made.

"Well!" says Fraser.

"Exactly," says Ray.

And nothing more needs to be said.

[end]

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