Ray Kowalski and Benton Fraser belong to Alliance. But I have my fun with them when I can.
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Slash, PG, could be considered "smarm"
They were, once again, in his GTO, this time west bound on I-290 out of the Loop. They'd be getting off at Independence, to head south to 26th and California: to the county jail. Ray had to give a deposition.
He looked over at his red-clad partner, thinking for the umpteenth time how amazingly handsome Fraser was. Handsome and... clueless. But handsome nonetheless.
Fraser was looking out the window. Being midday, the traffic wasn't crawling like it would be in a few hours. The Mountie's eyes followed the occasional car near them or fixed on the industrial buildings to their right.
Involuntarily, Ray remembered the day they ran into Gerome Laferette and the INS agents. But he did not recall the details of the case. No, what he remembered was the way he and Fraser had changed places at the red light, from Fraser in the driver's seat to Ray in the driver's seat. Crawling over and under one another in the tight space of the GTO's front seat. He sighed, knowing that none of that could have meant anything to Fraser... feeling ashamed that it meant something to him.
There were many opportunities to get close to Fraser... but not that many to touch him. He kept a carefully polite distance between himself and everyone, even his partner. Ray occasionally invaded it in some way, but he tried not to, thinking that if it thrilled him the way it did, it probably made Fraser uncomfortable. He didn't want to be acting like Francesca, though Fraser was probably even more clueless about Ray's feelings than he was -- or at least pretended to be -- about Frannie's. When Fraser initiated any kind of contact between them, Ray crowed inside. He thought it meant he must be doing okay at hiding it, must not be giving off "I want to jump your bones" vibes to the Mountie -- that he must be seeming like Fraser's loyal partner, someone Fraser was bonded with deeply -- but chastely.
Of course, even while congratulating himself for doing okay and being a good enough partner to elicit physical contact from Fraser on occasion... he was simultaneously depressed, feeling now trapped in the role of partner, too afraid to move forward into ...something more.
Suddenly a shiny new black sports car zipped past them going too fast, and weaving in and out of the slower moving cars.
"Ray, that car had to be going at least seventy miles per hour. That is at least fifteen miles per hour over the posted speed limit." The surprised and slightly outraged expression on the Mountie's face turned toward the spike-haired detective.
"So whaddaya want me to do, Fraser?" the detective asked laconically, glancing at his partner sideways.
"Ray, you're an officer of the law! I can't believe you would even asking such a question." The slightly indignant look on Fraser's face did not inspire guilt in the Chicago cop.
"Fraser, it's a matter of jurisdiction." Ray shook his head.
"Jurisdiction?" Fraser said, faintly disbelieving.
"Yes. We are on the interstate. Yes, it happens to be a highway running through Chicago, but, since it is an interstate highway, the Illinois State Police are the traffic cops here. Not the Chicago police. If we were a mile east of here, where I-290 runs through the Loop and becomes the Congress expressway, then I could do something about it. Out here, no can do. The State cops get ticked off if we do anything out here." He shrugged, leather creaking. "Unless our reasons for pursuit are because they're suspected in a Chicago crime."
"Why would they get 'ticked off', as you say?" the Mountie asked curiously.
"We're on their turf. They don't arrest Chicagoans for Chicago crimes; we don't arrest interstate drivers for state highway crimes. Unless they are also suspected for crimes committed in Chicago. In which case we do like you do, and 'liaise'."
The Mountie did not say anything to that. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then shut it after thinking better of it.
"Besides, what am I gonna do? Pull them over in a hot rod GTO? Yeah, that'll be convincing." Ray grinned over at Fraser, his earlier thoughts pushed back to the corner of his mind for the moment.
"Well, Ray, you are at least adhering to the posted limit. Setting an example," the Mountie pointed out approvingly with a little smile.
"Which no one will see as an example from a cop because it doesn't look like a cop car and I don't wear a uniform. Besides, Fraser, I seen Chicago blue-and-whites rocketing down here like nobody's business. Sometimes just because they're late for lunch. So none of us is setting a very good example."
"Well, you are setting an example just because you are driving, as you say, a 'hot rod' car -- and choosing to drive it carefully and safely. As a member of the general populace."
It almost seemed Fraser had moved over a bit while speaking that last part. Ray had to pause for a moment -- then decided he was just being nuts, as usual, and continued with what he'd been planning to say.
"Yeah, but that's because this baby is my pride 'n joy. And I'm not gonna drive her like a nutcase 'less I have to," Ray added, looking over at Fraser.
"Which you sometimes do." Fraser looked at him seriously.
It spooked him. No, no, no, Ray told himself firmly. There was nothing more to that look than Fraser's earnest, well-meaning, partner-speak. Don't be a fool and see something where there is nothing.
"That's like a race for a horse. You baby 'em... then let 'em rip on the track when they need to."
"Actually, Ray, I don't think that's how they train racehorses," Fraser interjected mildly.
"Whatever. The point being that, unless I am in a hurry to get somewhere in my GTO, I don't drive like I am in a hurry. Slow and steady wins the race." If only it won the race in other areas, he sighed internally.
"Ah, yes, the Tortoise and the Hare." Fraser nodded. Once again, he seemed to edge sideways, closer to Kowalski.
And, once again, the detective assumed he was just seeing what he wanted to see, and dismissed that thought.
"I say Turtle," Ray pointed out, slightly irritated.
"Actually, Ray, tortoises and turtles are--"
"There you go again. All I'm saying is... I can go really fast in my car... I choose not to. Most of the time."
"Going slowly is good," the Canadian said mildly, looking sideways at the blond detective.
Kowalski groaned inside. Going slowly is killing me, he thought. But there's no other way to go... and for me, I have to go slower and slower until I just stop, because there is no getting beyond a certain point with Fraser. He's not "that way".
But aloud he said, "I don't 'drive slow', Fraser. I cruise. In cruising, there is no need for speed."
"But you are driving slowly," Fraser pointed out.
The detective glanced over at him moodily.
"So what if I am? I can be fast when I need to be. It's not a matter of speed... it's a matter of style."
"Ah." Fraser nodded.
" 'Ah'. Meaning what?"
"Only that you enjoy the drive, rather than just hurrying to enjoy the destination."
Was the Mountie edging nearer him in the seat? No, no, no -- he was imagining things. The tone of Fraser's voice had seemed to imply other things... but, no. He had to have imagined that too.
"Enjoy the drive..." Ray thought about this, leather creaking as he moved in his seat, spikes quivering with the movement. "Okay, so I enjoy the drive."
"I still feel you should have pulled that car over and spoken to the driver."
"Yeah, like he's gonna pull over for a GTO! Not likely, Frase." He resolutely looked straight ahead, but could not stop his eyes from the occasional peripheral glance... nor his mind from wishful thinking.
"Well..." The Mountie shifted in his seat.
"Well..." God damn, but it seemed Fraser was getting closer. If he didn't know he was entirely nuts, Ray would have gladly believed that.
"Well, I, for one, am glad you enjoy the journey and aren't just trying to rush to the destination," Fraser said, with that slight edge to his voice, that tone of innuendo that was driving Ray nuts. God! if he hadn't known better, he'd have thought Fraser was trying to tease him.
And then he felt the short distance between his thigh and Fraser's closed when the warmth of Fraser's thigh came to rest against his own.
His heart leapt into his throat and began pounding painfully.
He shifted his eyes for another peripheral glance, and saw that Fraser was looking at him intently.
What to do, what to do? Look directly at him? No, too confrontational. Might cause him to back off, which Ray desperately did *not* want to cause Fraser to do. But how to acknowledge this in a way that wouldn't scare the skittish Mountie off? What about putting his hand down-- no, no, that was exactly the kind of thing Fraser was saying he was glad Ray didn't do...
What had Fraser just said? The very slightest pressure of Fraser's thigh against his -- the tiniest bit of friction caused by the slight rocking of the car over various bumps and pits in the highway's surface -- was making him forget completely what Fraser had just said.
At least I haven't moved away. That's one boneheaded thing I didn't do so far, Ray thought.
The feeling of warmth between their touching thighs increased. Or maybe it was the flush heading upward from the collar of Ray's shirt.
One more eye-shift to the right, without moving his head, and Fraser's intent look had turned into an expression torn between uncertainty, hope and shame.
But his thigh did not move. And Ray silently thanked his lucky stars that he had not started or jerked or done anything that would have, in any way, scared the Mountie off. He could imagine the retreat: Fraser blushing, stammering an excuse the two of them could live with, an increase in politeness and physical distance -- and the complete loss of any future opportunity. He wasn't sure who was more insecure, himself or Fraser.
Ray's mouth and throat were dry, as if all saliva had instantaneously evaporated. He cleared his throat. He still hadn't turned his head and looked directly at Fraser. Couldn't... The moment seemed so fragile, like it could go either way... and Ray anxiously wanted to make sure it went the right way.
"I, I, I've thought about the destination," he finally croaked. "But I can appreciate the journey. I just, just..." he trailed off, at a loss now.
"Didn't know how to start the journey?" Fraser's voice came gently.
Ray gulped, reeling again. Fraser knew! How could he have known? What had Ray said or done to give himself away?
"I-- I didn't realize you knew the destination I was thinking about," he began haltingly. "I, uh, thought I was keeping that to myself pretty good. Obeying the posted limits, y'know?" Now I'm babbling, he realized, with a sinking feeling.
"You were, Ray, you were," came the Mountie's quiet voice, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fraser look away from him. Instead that blue gaze shifted forward, out the windshield; then to his right, out the passenger window.
"I just, ah, well, you yourself said body language was something you were particularly sensitive to," the Mountie continued softly. "I, too, am not completely lacking in such sensitivity, despite the fact that I may appear to be, as you would say, clueless. Or should I say, I may be lacking in such sensitivity insofar as the opposite sex is concerned. But I realized my, ah, the body language I spoke with you was severely restricted. That is, that my, uh, 'posted limit' was not really the limit I wished to express."
Fraser folded his hands in his lap, but with a glance down, Ray saw them white at the knuckles. Give him a sign! he thought.
"So, uh," Ray began hesitantly, "so this trip, this journey, down this road--" he emphasized his words by pressing his thigh more firmly against Fraser's-- "This is okay with you, then?"
"Yes, Ray," The Mountie said, turning to look at his partner again.
"Really?" Surprise, wonder, gladness almost rendered Ray speechless.
"Yes, really, Ray," Fraser said, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously in his lap.
"That's, uh, that's great, Fraser," Ray said, trying not to lose his voice, and finally having the courage to turn his head and look directly at Fraser. Directly into those somber blue eyes, with just the slightest crinkles of happiness at the corners. Now the detective could not help breaking into a relieved and happy smile. "This is great!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," Fraser said, ducking his head and blushing.
"So, so... so how long you been wanting to take this journey?" Ray had to look back at the road. Their exit was coming up.
"Oh, it's been some time, Ray."
"And you, you never told me?"
"You-- that is to say, I wasn't certain it would be reciprocated. Until recently."
Ray let that pass... he would ask Fraser what made him change his mind some time in the future.
In the meantime, the cottony warmth between their touching thighs was making Ray's jeans tight... just this side of pleasantly tight, just under the line of uncomfortable.
"Well, I just didn't know -- didn't think -- you'd ever be interested in a trip like this," Ray said.
"I'm not exactly a stranger to it," Fraser said, after a pause.
Did that mean what he thought it meant? Ray wondered. He cautiously broached the subject.
"You taken this trip before?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Fraser admitted simply.
"Lots of times?" Ray blurted before he could stop himself. He had to know.
"No. Only once before," he answered quietly. Then, hesitantly, he asked Ray, "You?"
"I never took this particular trip," Ray admitted, swallowing.
"Then I'll show you the way," the Mountie said shyly.
"But we're going down our own road, right?" Ray asked. Wanting to be sure Fraser desired journeying with him -- not just journeying because of the journey.
"Yes."
"We won't take the same route?"
"No. How could we?"
"We're taking the same trip..." Ray trailed off.
"But we're on our own road, to our own destination. It can not possibly be the same as any other trip I may have taken."
But the detective had to be sure.
"You're sure you want to take this trip?"
"Yes."
"With me?"
"Yes, Ray."
"Just me?"
"Just you."
"Okay, then," Ray breathed. Relief and excitement made a curious mixture in his chest.
They had exited the expressway and were now at the red light at the top, ready to turn left.
Ray turned to look at Fraser, who was very close to him. So close, in fact, that if Ray had taken his hand off the wheel, it would just as easily have rested on Fraser's thigh as it would have on his own.
Those Lake-Michigan-blue eyes looked into his own, seeming as uncertainly hopeful as he felt... or maybe he was reading things into them like he had before...
"Do you think it would be alright to get one leg of the journey started, Ray?" Fraser asked seriously.
"Sure, I guesso," Ray replied slowly, wondering what Fraser meant.
The Mountie's hands, just now folded in his lap, separated... and the left one settled lightly on Ray's thigh.
His excitement climbed another notch and this time his pants were uncomfortable.
"I, uh, thought you believed in enjoying the journey, Frase," Ray teased gently.
"Oh, I do, Ray. But can't we let the horse run for a bit?" the Mountie asked, his eyes hopeful.
"Oh, sure, sure. Just as long as you rein him in by the time we get to 18th Street." Ray grinned.
"As you wish." The Mountie permitted himself a short stroke of the fine, lean thigh under his hand... and then, oh, all right, a little squeeze of the muscle. Just that short caress was blissful for him. He sighed happily, feeling Ray's thigh under his left hand, looking out the window.
"Fraser..." Ray said, not looking at his partner.
"Yes?"
The blond detective took the wheel with his left hand, and let his right settle onto his partner's hand on his thigh.
"My horse wants to run, too," Ray whispered, taking the Mountie's hand.
Fraser entwined his fingers with Ray and squeezed -- both of them looking away from each other out opposite windows.
And from Harrison to 18th street their hands remained clasped, laying
on Ray's right thigh.
end.
The Posted Limit © 1999 Surfgirl