Verisimilitude	

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]

 Like it? Hate it? Let me know!
 Back to the Due South Archive