Rating/Warning: R. Language, m/m, non-con?
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski, Fraser/Vecchio
Disclaimer: They're not mine. The song RK mentions is "Burn" by Sister Machine Gun. I have no claims to that either. If you're interested, the lyrics can be found here.
Spoilers: yep, one.
Summary: Kowalski still wants his "one night" and doesn't get what he bargained for.
Notes: This isn't pretty!! Like I've said before, artistic license with... well, frankly, EVERYTHING. And I don't *really* seem RayK this way at all. Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me. Some of you may never want to speak to me again *sniff* but...
This installment of "Victims of Love" has issues of consent in it. The answer to the question "Is it or isn't it?" I leave up to you. Please don't hate me afterwards...
Jo - to make it all up to you, I *promise* I'll finish "Worth Keeping" very soon.

*meekly* feedback?

UNWISE - July, 2000
by Ashinae

Five days.

Five more days and Vecchio's coming back to Chicago.

Five more days of this life.

And then, I'm Stanley Kowalski again.

Life couldn't get worse.

Yeah, out in the real world? Happy face, making friendly with Fraser like everything is fine and I didn't try to jump him. He pretends it didn't happen, fine, I can do that too.

I'm such a fuck-up.

And it doesn't stop me from wanting him. Oh no, not ever.

He's forgiven me for *that night* and I'm not quite sure why. It was almost two weeks ago. We started working together again right after I went over to the Consulate and begged for forgiveness. I don't know why he accepted my apology but he did. I'm glad, don't get me wrong. I'm just surprised.

Welsh called me into his office this morning and told me the news. Asked me to stick around, take a permanent transfer here. *Riight,* whatever! With my luck, he'd get me to work with Vecchio. Like I *want* to work with Fraser's boyfriend.

What's Vecchio got that I don't? That's what I wanna know. What's so *great* about him?

There's gotta be something there if Fraser's in love with him.

I want him to love *me.* If he loved me, maybe I wouldn't be such a fuck-up after all. But because he doesn't, obviously I *am* a fuck-up and Goddamn I hate him. I don't understand how I can hate someone at the same time I love him *so much.*

Love? Is it--

Of course it is. Shut the hell up. I *love* Fraser. I do.

And then I think I am one hell of a lucky bastard because I managed to get off work early and I called Fraser--he has the day off--and asked him if he wanted to come over to have Chinese food and maybe watch a movie, and he said yes.

I'm gonna get what I want.

I pick Fraser up sometime after six and we had dinner ordered by six thirty and it's there at seven. We just talk as we eat... it's great. I don't think Frase and I have ever just *talked* and he seems more comfortable with me than he ever has been.

But he still looks like he feels out of place.

I've gotta get him to relax. I want him to loosen up. I... I've gotta have him. I gotta have him tonight. I want my one night from Fraser.

All we talk about, though, is cases. He actually *laughs* with me when we talk about some of the things we've done. Of course, the whole thing with the dead guy in the wall from three weeks ago... We actually agreed that it could only happen to *us.*

We *agreed* about something.

I couldn't help but stare at him. How does the man make *everything* sexy? The way he eats is almost enough to have me throwing him on the ground and jumping his bones. Oh, *fuck* I gotta have him or I'll die.

Reminds me of this song I've heard a few times. Some of the lines I remember always make me think of him. Stuff like: "When I think about the first time I saw your face, I never felt this way" and "What kind of fool am I, to want your body next to mine?" and "I need you anytime, and I'm breaking down inside." I wish I had a CD with that song, I'd play it right now so he could find out just the kind of things he does to me, but I'd be afraid it would completely freak him out and he'd run away screaming.

Fuck it all. Does he have any idea how good he looks?

*Hey, Frase, nice boots, wanna fuck?*

Except he's not wearing the uniform. No, he's wearing jeans that have so obviously been *ironed* and a blue shirt and oh hell I think I'm drooling all over my egg roll.

As we clean up the cartons and plates from dinner, I glance at Fraser a couple times. And damn him because he still looks like he doesn't want to be here, and I'll show him--I'll show him that he shoulda been here every night for the past year.

"I'll bet you really miss him, huh?" I say, and he looks startled.

"Excuse me?"

"Vecchio. You must really miss him." *That's it, Kowalski. Keep the tone light. Be compassionate. Pretend like you give a flying fuck about Vecchio.*

I can see the defences go up. He glances away. "Of course I do," he says quietly. He turns to wash his hands in the sink. He's so lost in thought, I guess, that he jumps when I put my hand on his shoulder after I come up behind him.

"It's okay, Frase," I say in a soft voice. "And I *am* here for you." I let my hand slide around his chest and put my other arm around his waist. I press up against his back and start kissing his neck. "Let me in, Fraser," I whisper. "Let me... I can love you."

He is perfectly still, then he turns slowly to look at me. I can't read anything in his eyes. I'm hopeful that finally I'll have what I want at the same time I'm afraid he's going to snap my neck. Oh, shit, what have I done? This was a bad choice, big mistake because now he's backing me up and then his eyes go real fast in the general direction of the bedroom and then he just *stares* at me.

I smile slowly. "Please," I say, because I know he's a sucker for polite-talk. He can't say no when I say please, can he?

But he doesn't do anything. So I slowly reach out and hook a finger in the waist of his jeans and start heading backwards to the bedroom, and *OH MY GOD* he's following me. It just doesn't seem to register in my head that there isn't *anything* in his eyes.

I turn away from him to close the bedroom door and I feel his hands on my shoulders. I close my eyes and lean my head back. "Oh, God, Frase," I say softly, "I've waited so long--"

His hands roughly turn me around and he slams me up against the door.

"Fraser!" I shout. "What the hell--"

One of his hands is between my legs, squeezing--

"Is *this* all you ever think about, Ray?" he demands, talking right into my ear. Then his other hand moves off my shoulder and grabs the back of my head and holds me still as his lips come down on mine and oh, fuck, this isn't what I want--

I push at his shoulders, but he's too strong and oh God why's he doing this? Couldn't he have just left? Let me go, Frase, let me go let me go let me go--

He pulls back and his hand is still *there* and he looks at me. "I'm going to... give you what you want, Ray," he says. "Don't you want that?"

Yes. No. Yes. Oh fuck, I don't know anymore. Then he's taking off both our clothes and this man should be worshipped because he's so gorgeous.

He's seriously pissed off at me. I see that when I drag my eyes back up to his and I start inching away again, but then he says my name and--

And it's fucking *Frase*--Fraser fucking *me.* It hurts like hell but it feels so damn good--cause I'm being fucked by Fraser and Vecchio's in Las Vegas just *dreaming* about the same thing.

Fraser's in *my* apartment, and in *me,* and his fingers are gonna leave bruises on *my* hips, and he's grunting in *my* ear and oh hell, I'm gonna be sore tomorrow.

Maybe this wasn't a good--no. No. This is what I want, dammit--

And when he comes, I don't know whose name he shouts but I don't think it's mine--I can pretend the "Ray" he calls out to is me, but I'd probably just be kidding myself.

When it's over he doesn't say a word to me. He pushes himself off my bed and our eyes meet when I roll over and look at him. He's staring at me blankly and I can't believe that it happened, that it's over, that he's pulling on his clothes without so much of a "Well, thank you kindly, Ray. It's been different now fuck off." And I finally look away from him and flop back down on the bed, curling up on my side and facing the other way. I listen to him leave my apartment and then I grab a pillow and pull it over my face and I start to cry.

What the *fuck* have I done?

He was just using me. I can't lie to myself about it. I can think to myself that, yeah, Frase was with me, but to him--

It's always Vecchio.

And damn them both.

Vecchio will know. Oh yeah--he'll know I had Fraser.

Cause when he gets back, I'm gonna to tell him.