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      	  I want it for my own 
 by belmanoir  

 Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I am making no money off
this.

 Author's Notes: Written for univacgrl. Unbeta'd. Also, thank you to
snoopypez for suggesting I use a "Nightmare Before Christmas" lyric for
the title.

 

 Fraser slips into Ray's jacket and straightens his tie, bending forward
to examine himself in the mirror. Luckily Ray prefers loose tailoring, so
the clothes are only a little snug. At least, he thinks they're only a
little snug, but when Ray makes a noise behind him and Fraser tracks his
gaze in the mirror--well. Fraser warms.

 "Those pants never looked like that on me," Ray says, accusatory with a
warm, rough note in it. 

 Fraser smiles at him in the mirror and only then registers what he's
seeing. He coughs. Ray is wearing Fraser's uniform pants, the braces
hanging around his thighs, and he's buttoning up Fraser's shirt. The sight
of his name-tag pinned to Ray's chest gives Fraser an unexpectedly strong
feeling of joy, as if they belong to each other. As if Ray is his, now.
Tomorrow, when he wears his uniform, it will smell like Ray. "Maybe we
shouldn't go to the party," he suggests, turning around. "Maybe we should
stay in."

 Ray grins. "Nuh-uh, Fraser. Not this time. It's Halloween and I want to
show you off. Anyway, you're the one that was all excited about us being
the same size."

 Fraser wants to go to the party too, actually. He's not used to being
part of a unit in social settings. While of course Ray's co-workers must
remain ignorant of the true nature of his and Ray's relationship, Fraser
likes the idea of their intimacy being, in however small a way, visible.
"Actually, Ray, you're several millimeters taller than I am."

 Ray shrugs into the brown jacket and frowns at himself in the mirror over
Fraser's shoulder. "Yeah, and about a foot narrower in the shoulders," he
mutters.

 Fraser knows Ray well enough by now to know that it's the ill fit of the
jacket (and not any implied inferiority of strength or masculinity) that
bothers him. Nevertheless, he can't help saying it. "You have beautiful
shoulders."

 Ray rolls his eyes. "People don't have beautiful shoulders, Fraser. They
have beautiful faces. Legs, maybe. Asses." He winks. "Not shoulders."

 "You do." He steps forward and grips Ray's shoulders, their elegant
angles hovering awkwardly inside the brown serge. He thinks of the
generations of officers who have worn this uniform, of how Ray has shoved
himself gracelessly and perfectly into that tradition of duty and
sacrifice.

 "Look at you," Ray scoffs fondly. "You think this is kinky, don't you?"

 "Perhaps." Fraser kisses him, and Ray kisses back. He always does. It
doesn't matter where they are or what they're doing or how angry he is,
when Fraser asks for this Ray holds nothing in reserve. "Give me your
cross."

 "I dunno, Fraser," Ray teases as he undoes the clasp. "I still haven't
gotten my chain back from when we were car salesmen."

 Fraser flushes. "It's in my trunk. Do you want it?" He forgot to give it
back, that's all. (He told himself that for over a year. It didn't matter
whether he believed it, only that he had the will to keep telling the
lie.)

 "Nah. Here you go. Now you're me." He fastens the gold chain around
Fraser's neck. "How does it feel?"

 "Suddenly I find you intensely irritating," Fraser deadpans as he tucks
the cross inside his shirt, Ray's heat against his fingertips. Ray laughs,
eyes on Fraser's throat, and the truth bubbles up in him, sentimental and
inescapable. "It feels wonderful."  
  

End I want it for my own by belmanoir 

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