Water Everywhere
There's this thing that Ray's heard about - probably from Fraser - about how when you're drowning, all you can think about is how thirsty you are. It's a psycho-something -- it's a head thing. Right. Unless Ray's thinking about that mirage in the desert hallucination thing, because of course you'd be thirsty if you were in the desert. Not that Ray's ever been to the desert, but Chicago in the summer has that sort of squash-your-lungs-like-Manny-The Bull-sitting-on-your-chest feel about it, so maybe that's what that desert thirst thing is.
Whatever it is, it's a strange predilection... prediction... it's a strange place to find yourself is what it is. Like with Fraser. Because sometimes when Ray's around Fraser he feels like he's drowning, like he can't breathe so good or something. But that's stupid because they already did the drowning thing, and then they did the buddy breathing thing, which um, Fraser never promised not to do again.
The point though, is that when you're drowning, the last thing you should be is thirsty because you're surrounded by water. Like when Ray was trapped on that oversized tugboat all he could think about was how Fraser always drinks water or tea, but he never drink drinks like everybody else. But that's Fraser all over, he's never like anybody else, which is why Ray likes him in the first place. It's why Ray hit him in the first place, because he likes Fraser so much, too much, and it's so much easier to kick it in the head before Fraser finds out about that. Him.
Fraser is like too much water all the time. He makes Ray light-headed like he's drowning and that makes it hard for Ray to be who he's supposed to be: Ray Vecchio, Armani-wearing, 100 proof all-Italian suaveness and very, very straight.
Ray's been good up till now, except for the Italian thing and the Armani thing. Unless Armani's started making shit-kickers.
The point is that Fraser makes Ray not wanna be so straight.
And yeah, okay, so that's not buddies strictly speaking, but Ray needs Fraser. He needs Fraser to breathe for him and with him, and even though Ray is drowning in his feelings, he'd rather die than let Fraser in on that.
He's not good at swimming anyway.
Everything in life is about point of view. It's all about persper -- perv -- perspective. Right. Like the sky is blue because it reflects the water, except for today when it's kinda gray, and the lakes are blueish-greenish-gray-brown because they don't reflect the sky right or whatever.
Ray is all about perspective. Like when he was about to drown, his perspective was all about that cold ass water seeping into the room with him and how he couldn't break free of the stupid handcuffs and how Fraser would never have had a problem like this because he probably kept spare everything wherever he kept his blubber ointment and multitude of Swiss Army knives.
When Ray was handcuffed to that stupid steel pipe all he could think about were stupid things, like how much he hated having his feet wet and how Stella used to go apeshit when he tracked water into the living room. Then he couldn't stop thinking about how Fraser's boots probably always kept his feet dry and how Ray had never even seen Fraser's bare feet before. Ray wasn't perving on Fraser's feet or anything, but it was almost like Fraser didn't really have feet unless Ray had seen them, which was stupid.
Sometimes Ray's perspective is really stupid, like right now when he's lying on his back in an alley, trying not to think about how many people have probably pissed near where his head is. Ray's entire world is centered on Fraser crouching next to him and peering at him with that little line between his eyebrows.
Fraser's the brightest thing in the entire alley, even though that doesn't sound like much of a compliment, especially considering that Fraser's only wearing jeans and flannel instead of the whole Santa Mountie get-up. But that's the thing about Fraser, even when there are shadows under his eyes, and his mouth is moving and he's probably giving Ray what for for missing the dumpster, he's still got this magnetic pull, like a compass.
Anyway, it's not like Ray missed the dumpster on purpose, and he should probably listen to whatever Fraser's saying, but he's kinda distracted by, well, by Fraser.
Fraser's just one big distraction from the top of his it-looks-really-soft hair to the soles of his never-dare-to-get-dirty shoes - and he doesn't even know it. Having Fraser this close to Ray is him doing a high speed chase by Sandor's after missing lunch and breakfast and dinner and knowing there's nothing but paperwork in his future. Plus, Ray's sense of smell is blocked up with alley dirt and smog and rotten food, but underneath it all he swears he can smell Fraser and all his Fraserness. It's better than pineapple pizza, which is kinda hard to beat, and Ray would swear that Fraser has a smell that's all capability and comfort and grease for all the leather he wraps around his big red cape. Tunic. Whatever.
Fraser's presence is very comforting considering the pain radiating between Ray's shoulder blades. Clearly Ray's been hanging around too many Canadians, and what he really needs to do is strangle Fraser with that piece of rope that he's always got around his neck. It's kind of a shame he's not wearing it today, maybe Ray'll kick him in the head instead, because he really can't think of anything better to do.
Doesn't Fraser know what he's doing to Ray?
Isn't it obvious by the way that Ray's staring without actually saying anything?
To anybody else? Sure. To Fraser, probably not, and Ray would love to reach out and push Fraser over just to see him fall, but then he'd probably feel guilty when Fraser was sprawled out on the pavement looking for all the world like somebody had run over his puppy. It's not like Ray could physically hurt Fraser; he doesn't know why he ever tried. Hell, he doubts that a speeding train could physically hurt Fraser, but he's thinking more in that emotionally hurt way that Ray's already spent too many mornings seeing in his own reflection.
It's hard for Ray to work it out in words, but the thing about Fraser that always drives him insane is how Fraser he is. He's never messy or injured or moody. He's just Fraser, full of concern and honesty and a cast iron sense of what's right.
Like right now Fraser's hovering over Ray like his mom, except Fraser isn't Ray's Ma, and Fraser lips pursed together isn't doing anything wonderful for Ray's perspective. The least Fraser could do is pretend like doing all this crouching in this alley is hurting his knees, but he doesn't even wobble, and how annoyingly perfect can one Canadian be?
Fraser's fingers are soft on Ray's face when they should be rough and his hair is kinda messed up, but it only makes him look hotter. Fraser doesn't have garbage on him; he doesn't smell, he didn't even have the decency to miss the dumpster or anything. No, of course not. Canadians never miss the dumpster. And now he's doing that Concerned Mountie Thing, and instead of thinking about how much his back hurts, Ray's perspective is all about perving on Fraser's mouth moving and Fraser's fingers on his face and -- and he's getting a hard-on while the bad guys are getting away. This is not greatness.
"...Ray...Ray!"
There's something mushy and cold under Ray's right hand. He doesn't want to know what it is, and his 20/45 vision is just bad enough that he can pretend like he can't quite identify it.
He is not going to lick his fingers, or Fraser's fingers, either, so he yanks his hand away and pushes himself up as quickly as his stupid dick will let him. Fraser's fingers brush against his jaw as Ray jerks away, and only Ray would get a boner after jumping out a second story window and missing the dumpster.
"What're you lookin' at?" he says, making a big show of wiping his hand on a nearby banana peel, pointedly ignoring the weight of Fraser's gaze on the crown of his head. It's too heavy, like someone holding him under water, and Ray's willing to do anything to distract Fraser from what's happening south of Ray's waist. "You're letting the bad guys get away."
His tone isn't a whine; it's not. Ray doesn't whine. Cops don't whine. Ray's just making a point.
"What am I looking at? Well, you, Ray. After your rather abrupt decent from the second story window I was concerned that --"
"It wasn't abrupt. I knew what I was doin'."
"Oh, I never meant to suggest otherwise, Ray. However, you did miss the dumpster, and Dief and I were afraid that perhaps you'd landed wrong, thereby injuring yourself in some way."
"I dunno where you got that idea from."
Sarcasm is its own reward.
"Well, from your lack of focus when I was just speaking to you, now, and -- ah, you're speaking rhetorically again --"
Of course. Fraser was making sure Ray was okay and hadn't, like, died or whatever else happens when non-Mounties try to fly. That look on Fraser's face is all anxiety for Ray's well-being. It's just Ray's perspective that made him think Fraser had anything more on his Canadian mind than one partner looking out for another.
When did Ray's perspective wind up in his dick? Stupid perspective.
"...Diefenbaker has the malfeasants well in hand. Or paw as the case may be." Fraser nods behind Ray and something in Ray's neck makes a sound when he attempts to look over his shoulder. The pain is like tattooing needles across his shoulders and along his upper back, and the groan of pain escapes his lips before he can rein it in.
"I certainly didn't mean to imply that you weren't capable of taking care of yourself. I know how good you are at that, I was -- well, I was worried." Fraser reaches out again but retracts his hand at Ray's glare.
"Nothin' to worry about, though," Ray snips, struggling to get to his feet without help. "I'm good. It's all greatness."
Amazingly enough, Ray's show of bravado almost works. Except for that whole thing about him almost falling over into the rotten banana peels and unidentified mushy stuff. His back is killing him, and he feels like he's 37 going on 75.
In his periphery Fraser is a great big Mountie blur moving closer to him. He bats away Fraser's hand more as a matter of habit than anything else.
Of course Fraser is nothing if not persistent, like Dief and donuts.
"Ray, I really think you should let me assist you."
There's that stupid concern again that's messing up Ray's perspective. "Only if you want me to assist my foot where the sun don't shine, Frase. It's my collar, I'm calling it in. Everything's copacabana. Copasetic." He can stand up straight. He knows he can. He could this morning at any rate.
"You seem to have injured your back," Fraser begins before Ray cuts him off. He has to work hard to stand up enough to glare at Fraser
"It seems that your mouth is working just fine, though, maybe I'll land on that next time." It takes Ray every ounce of will power he has to appear upright, and if Fraser's so full of distress the least he can do is work on the twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Somethin' funny you wanna tell me about? Weren't there some perps that needed some perpetrating or something?" Ray's trying to contort his arms so that he can rub his neck, but it's a pretty hopeless cause. He'd feel better if Fraser would rub it for him. Of course Ray's got a lot of things that would feel better if Fraser would rub them, but the thought alone makes him choke like he just had some water go down the wrong way.
"...your back?"
Ray knows he didn't say that out loud which leads him to believe that maybe Constable Benton 'I Never Hurt Anything' Fraser has got some special Mountie skills he hasn't let Ray in on just yet.
"I told you, my back is fine. It's all greatness."
"I understand how important it is to you not to appear weak --"
"Weakness is a bad thing, Frase."
"In wolf packs perhaps, but human beings need --"
"You can do the National Geographic meets Oprah thing later."
"Of course. I still wish you would let me take you to a hospital, or at the very least let me help you home. Surely that's something that partners are allowed to do."
Partners. It's right on the tip of Ray's tongue to tell Fraser how he can help him, buddy breathing, duets, camping in the park and all, but there's this crack of thunder and it starts to rain.
"Nobody said nothing about it raining." Ray attempts to crane his neck to look up, but that turns out to be about as possible as getting Stella to come back to him. Not that he really wants her back anymore; it's just been this thing that he's always thought he wanted to the point where he never really questioned why or how or anything, it just was. Kinda like breathing, and not swimming... and not drowning.
Except that Ray's getting wet anyway, and Fraser's saying something to him about going back to the two-seven but all Ray sees are the large raindrops splashing against Fraser's skin where it's not covered by the collar of his flannel shirt..
Ray's never known you could drown in an alley.
The unidentified mush from the alley has embedded itself in the links of Ray's bracelet, and underneath the punishing spray from the shower head, he rubs the links back and forth between his thumb and forefinger trying to clear it out. The faintly rank odor was bugging him at the station and only now he can give it his undivided attention.
Of course it would be easier if he just took the bracelet off and rinsed it under the hot water, but Ray's never been about doing things the easy way. If there's an easy way and a hard way, good money says that Ray will take the hard way. It's just how he is. It's not a intrep -- intric -- it's not a character flaw, despite whatever Stella used to say, it's just how he is.
There's something inside Ray says that if he doesn't have to work for it then it's not worth it, so he's going to stay in the shower as long as it takes him to clear the crud out of the links and his back stops throbbing, or until the water goes cold, or until he drowns. At least one of these things is going to happen eventually.
"Ray?"
Or Ray could slip, land on his head and die from a brain injury because Fraser interrupted him in the shower. Parts of Ray that were in pain are taking a back seat to the parts that are much more interested in Fraser's presence in Ray's bathroom.
Ray's perspective has just taken a completely new direction -- you let a nagging Mountie drive you home, and they never leave. "Fraser, what the hell?"
Even behind the dark green shower curtain, Ray can visualize Fraser standing in the doorway, looking slightly nervous and embarrassed. He can just imagine Dief sniffing around his bathroom and smelling god only knows what with that super nose of his. Not that Fraser's nose isn't just as keen, but a part of Ray is kinda surprised when Dief's nose doesn't suddenly poke around the curtain opening.
Not that Ray's trying to give Dief a cheap thrill, because that's just wrong and sick, but if Fraser wanted a cheap thrill, well.
"I just wanted to make sure nothing untoward had happened to you. You've been in here for quite some time, and Diefenbaker was concerned that perhaps --"
"Dief was concerned." Ray does not sound like somebody's wife. He's not being snippy. "It's called taking a hot shower, Fraser." Or not that snippy. It's hard for Ray to do indignant when there's hot water streaming into his eyes, soap in his ears, and his dick is acting like Fraser is due north.
"Well, I assured him that you were more than capable of showering on your own, but he insisted on checking for himself."
The dog thought Ray required assistance.
Fraser can't really expect Ray to believe -- nobody could be expected -- Ray's really tempted to yank back the shower curtain and see who's trying to play who, but this is Fraser. Who could be telling the truth. It's very sketchy. Maybe after Ray's dick has recovered from the shock of being exposed this close to Fraser, Ray can figure out what the hell is going on.
The water's beginning to run cold, too, which should go a long way to helping Ray out. Still, there's no need for him to take unnecessary chances -- it's not like there's a big window nearby for him to jump through or anything. Although that's probably a good thing since with the whole naked thing all that glass could go into really bad places, and right on cue there's a furry gray snout nosing the bottom left side around Ray's shower tub, knocking shampoo bottles into the tub and making snuffling noises.
"OW!"
"Ray!"
"Dief!"
Shampoo bottles and toes don't tend to mix, and it's hard for Ray to tend to his toe when Dief's barking at him and pawing at the shower curtain. It's a fine time for the curtain rod to give.
Which it does.
"Ray? Ray? Ray!"
"If I wasn't injured before, I am now," Ray says, attempting to extract himself from Dief and the plastic curtain and the shampoo bottle sticking him in the thigh. It's even harder than it sounds, and the water coming from the showerhead now is decidedly cold, which is just fine for Ray's dick.
Except it's hard for Ray to do indignant when Fraser's turning off the water and crouching over him in the bathtub looking all concerned again. Plus, Dief's licking Ray's face and the pain in his back has been replaced by the pain in his toe. For such little parts of the body, toes can hurt a lot; and there's something very funny about the scene in his bathroom right now, but Ray's not really seeing it. All he's seeing is that he's naked with Fraser and covered in plastic, with his hair going everywhere and no sex to show for it.
"Out! Everybody get out!" Ray shouts, pushing at Dief, the curtain and Fraser, attempting to get to his feet when there's no traction in the bathtub. It's cold in his bathroom and there's water streaming out of his ears and his fingers are pruning --
"Ray, on behalf of Dief and myself-"
"Fraser, out!"
Fraser stumbles on something as he's leaving the bathroom, and it's only after the door closes behind Dief that Ray realizes he just flashed Fraser big time, and Fraser didn't say anything. He didn't blush or look away. He didn't even try to toss Ray a towel. Instead he just stumbled.
Fraser never stumbles.
Ray's never been one to waste valuable, potential, do-me-do-me-time on tiny things like drying off after a shower or insignificant aches and pains, so his sweatpants get damp when he yanks them on post-shower. He only begins to pull on his undershirt after he crosses the threshold into the living room too, because he's more than willing to give Fraser all the free shows he wants -- if he's interested.
And that's a big if.
Like if Ray's wrong, well, then he'll be throwing himself out another window really soon.
There's a word for that.
"Frase?"
"Yes, Ray?" Fraser's puttering around in Ray's kitchen, clinking glasses together, and Dief lifts his head and makes a whuffing noise from beside an end table when Ray passes by, but he doesn't actually move beyond one tail thump.
This is seriously un-Dief-like behavior, and Ray wonders what Fraser said to Dief to make him behave so good. Probably threatened to spend all his wolf treat money on buying Ray a new shower curtain.
The thought alone makes Ray smile, and it's only after Fraser turns in his direction that he struggles to pull the hem of his shirt down -- not that it wasn't going down on its own anyway, but that's not really the point.
Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Ray stops next to the fridge and watches Fraser pretend he wasn't just washing Ray's dishes. Fraser's wet hands and the bubbles still in the sink are a dead giveaway though, and when Ray chuckles, Fraser eyes him curiously.
"Was there something you wished to ask me, Ray?" Only Fraser could wash dishes without getting wet, and true to form the long-sleeve, blue thermal shirt he's wearing is completely dry. He's hair has only curled slightly from the rain, and Fraser looks good in blue.
Of course Fraser also looks good in red, white, penguin suits and everything in between. Ray, on the other hand, well, the sweats were clean. ish.
"Nothin'," he says dismissively, tossing Fraser a dry tea towel instead.
Fraser colors slightly, but wipes his hands anyway. "I'm sorry about the incident in the bathroom," he begins. "I promise that buying you a new shower curtain is on the top of my list of priorities for tomorrow, and Dief is sorry as well. Aren't you, Dief?"
Naturally there's no response from the general vicinity from where Dief is because of the whole deaf half-wolf thing, but Fraser seems satisfied nevertheless.
"What'd you do, ground him?" Ray shakes his head as Fraser makes a point of folding the damp towel and placing it on a kitchen counter that wasn't this clean when Ray left for work this morning
"Something like that," Fraser admits almost sheepishly. "I'm very sorry that he got so carried away; he knows better than that."
"Fraser, I know the wolf's got better manners than me, it's no sweat. That curtain was so old it didn't even need the rod to support it. Anyways, how many times do I gotta tell you that you don't have to clean up when you come over?"
Ray steps away from the fridge so he can open the door, and he turns his back on Fraser and makes a great show of bending over to look for something or other. He may not have a great ass like Fraser's, but an invitation is still an invitation.
The wiggle happens all on its own.
"What's that word when somebody throws somebody else out a window?" he asks over his shoulder. When there's no immediate answer, Ray turns his head hoping to see Fraser enjoying the view. The look of uncertainty that flashes across Fraser's face is all wrong. It's definitely not the do-me-do-me thing that Ray was looking for.
"I don't mean like I'm gonna throw somebody out a window," Ray hastens to add, standing at attention. "Two guys and a wolf out a window already is about my max for the day. I was thinking, like, there's that word for it though, you know what I mean -- defensive-straight."
Fraser's tongue wets his lower lip before he speaks, and Ray's stomach rolls like he just jumped out a car moving at 40mph. "Defenestrate."
Ray snorts as Fraser picks up the tea towel again and re-folds it once, twice, three times. "That's what I said," he says, shutting the refrigerator door and leaning back against it. Fraser seems pretty obsessed with folding Ray's towel, and damned if that doesn't sound really really dirty.
Ray wishes it was.
"Frase, don't tell me Mounties have tests on folding towels."
Fraser's cheeks are colored when he looks up, and the grin he gives Ray says it all. "Sadly, no, however, the Japanese have made a great art out of folding paper into various objects, and -"
"I don't wanna know," Ray says reaching out, pulling the towel out of Fraser's hands and tossing it over his shoulder. "Let's talk about somethin' else, like you stumblin' on your way out the bathroom. See, I've seen you stand outside the Consulate in the snow for ten hours and not need to take a piss, and now suddenly you can't walk out the bathroom without almost eatin' pavement?"
The color on Fraser's cheeks is deeper now, and Ray would swear on a stack of Bibles that Fraser's flushed. Or embarrassed. Or even better, thinking about Ray naked. Of course Ray could just be projecting, but Fraser's doing that thumb-to-eyebrow thing and between that and the lip-licking Ray's feeling kind of hopeful. Or maybe that's just him being kind of horny.
"There was water on the floor," Fraser explains, except his tone sounds more hopeful than actual, like he's praying Ray might take pity and buy a vowel.
"Only after I tracked it out," Ray points out. "Strike one."
"I lost my footing?"
"That's why it's called a stumble, Frase. Strike two."
"Of course."
"'Course," Ray parrots with a smirk. "One more strike to go."
It's not Ray's imagination that Fraser looks uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze, but it doesn't seem like a bad sort of discomfort, more like that kind of are-you-gonna-do -me vibe that Ray's been looking for all along. Except now's not really the time for him to misread Fraser so a lot of overkill is better than being subtle and getting it wrong. Especially since Ray knows a lot about getting it wrong.
Stella always said he was bad with the subtle thing, but she's not here anymore, and Fraser is and that's - that's probably for the best. Ray's not really sure he'd change things back even if he could; there's too much water under that bridge.
"So." Ray's not really sure what's about to come out his mouth. "Was there somethin' you saw that made you trip, Frase? You like the show?"
There's a long moment of silence where Fraser stares, and Ray silently freaks. As far as Ray can tell even Dief's stopped making his snuffling noises and the rain outside is really loud against the apartment windows.
"What I meant was -" Ray begins, taking a deep breath and trying not to make things worse on himself. Drowning people shouldn't freak out. Except for the whole drowning thing, and Ray feels like somebody just pushed him into the deep end of the pool wearing cement shoes.
He almost misses it when Fraser says, "Yes."
And then things really begin to get weird - at least as far as Ray can tell, because the words coming out of his mouth really aren't being said by him now. "So would that be yeah, like, 'yeah, I enjoyed the show and wouldn't mind seeing it again' or 'yeah, hell no, and if you flash me again I'm goin' back to Tutoyuckyuck.'"
"Tuktoyaktuk." Fraser corrects Ray automatically, and the way he says the name is like he's actually saying 'Royal Canadian Mounted Police' or 'curling' or something else he's really proud about.
It's amazing how the smallest things from Fraser can make everything okay for Ray. Like when Ray's having a bad day and Fraser gives him that smile that makes Ray's insides curl up with the happy thing or the way Fraser says Ray's name when he's really pleased about something, all big eyes, flushed cheeks and body language giving off the do-me-do-me thing. No wonder every chick, and a good amount of guys, are all 'yes!yes!yes!'
Ray knows all about the effect of the Fraser body language, because his sweats are pretty much giving his response away, and Fraser's eyes are drifting up and down Ray's body like it's all greatness to him.
"Right," Ray says stepping directly into Fraser's personal space. "That's what I said."
Fraser's head nods up and down, but he swallows like maybe he's having trouble breathing, and it's never ever occurred to Ray that Fraser might be afraid of drowning too, what with his extra lung capacity and all.
If Ray were a gambling man, which he is, he'd bet that Fraser's pretty damn turned on right now. Which is probably why Ray can't help but take a glance down, too, and yeah.
Yay for Fraser not in the Mountie get-up.
"You never answered my question." Ray's voice is low and scratchy, and it's probably not just his imagination that Fraser shudders when Ray steps about as close he can get without climbing Fraser like a fence.
"Which question would that be?"
"How do you feel about scrawny Chicago flatfoots running around in their altogether?"
There's another long pause, and Ray's chest tightens considerably before Fraser speaks up. "I feel," Fraser's voice is deep, and his head is down like he's talking to his chest. When he looks up, Ray's lungs open like he hasn't breathed in years. "I feel that they're, it's a good thing. A very good thing."
And that's pretty much all Ray needs to hear. He's never been good with explaining himself and how his thought processes work anyway. He goes from A to B via H and X and occasionally F, but he gets to where he needs to be and that's all that really matters to him. Most people don't agree, but Ray doesn't like most people anyway so that doesn't matter. Except Ray likes Fraser.
Ray likes Fraser a lot, and apparently Fraser likes him and that's all that counts. So when Ray leans forward and Fraser leans forward too, that's pretty much all they wrote. Or swam. Or whatever.
Fraser's mouth is warm and wet, more like a hot shower than plunging into the ocean, and Ray notices that Fraser only closes his eyes after Ray closes his eyes. He notices this because he opens his eyes again to check. It's not every day he gets to kiss Benton Fraser, RCMP blahblahblah.
If Ray's brain could shut up for more than five seconds, he could enjoy the feel of Fraser's -- Ben's -- Fraser's lips pressing against his mouth and his tongue flicking against Ray's lower lip.
Ray's hands clamp onto Fraser's biceps because he needs a second to realize how much better than fantasy reality can be. Plus, Fraser's tongue makes Ray feel a bit weak in the knees, kinda like a drowning man, and when Ray parts his lips a gasping noise escapes of its own accord. Ray's not gasping because Fraser's kissing him though. He's gasping because Fraser's kissing him and groping him, and Fraser's dick is apparently really happy to see Ray even though it's all cooped up inside Fraser's jeans.
Fraser really did enjoy the view earlier after all, if the feel of his hands on Ray's ass are anything to go by.
Fraser's got a really good grip on Ray's ass, and Ray just grunts when Fraser pushes him back against the fridge and makes a space for himself between Ray's legs.
"Jesus, Frase," is all Ray manages to get out before Fraser's taking over, and if this is buddies, well, that's just fine by Ray.
Fraser's saying something about something, but Ray can't really process anything besides 'Fraser' and 'good.' A particularly hard thrusts reminds Ray about his death grip on Fraser's arms, because while Fraser's forearms are great, they're not what Ray's been focusing on all these months.
Ray's brain almost explodes as he tries to figure out where to start first: hair, skin, ass. When it gets to the point that Ray actually can't breathe anymore, his fingers tangle in Fraser's hair to pull back. Fraser's hair really is as soft as it looks, and Ray hates it when he has girlie thoughts.
Plus, they're probably going to have a visitor any minute because they've got the fridge rocking against the wall, but Ray can't really bring himself to care about that, because at least he didn't get the handle in his spine. Fraser's too busy groping and squeezing for Ray to care too much about anything, period. Ray grunts when Fraser's teeth graze along his jaw to nip at his earlobe, and that noise didn't come from Ray.
"Always thought you were a moaner," he grits out as Fraser thrusts against him in a really good imitation of what Ray hopes is going to happen later on. Things like 'harder' and 'faster' and 'more' spill from Ray's lips like water over the edge of a dam, and he could feel embarrassed, but it's been a really long time.
"Never thought you'd want this," he says, attempting fruitlessly to wrap a leg around Fraser's waist.
His brain melts out his ears when Fraser says, "I didn't think you'd want me."
"You have no idea." Ray's been waiting a really long time and he can't stop whispering dirty things in Fraser's ear about how good he feels and how hot he is. Ray really needs more hands too, because if his hands are in Fraser's hair then he can't grab Fraser's ass and -- and he was having a thought but Fraser's fucking him fully-clothed against the fridge, and it's kinda hard for him to think about anything else just now. Maybe later.
Maybe never.
He's probably gonna have a mark on his neck tomorrow from where Fraser's sucking on him, and the pain in Ray's back and toes has left his body via his dick.
Actually, Ray can't remember feeling any pain of any kind, ever. He refuses to even remember a time when he didn't have this with Fraser, because wow.
Of course, it's only fitting that Ray should come with Fraser licking his neck and thrusting against him shamelessly. So he does, making sure to get a good grip on Fraser as he shudders against him.
"You taste like soap," Fraser mumbles into the nape of Ray's neck as Ray's fingers rub a soothing pattern in the small of his back.
Ray's sweats are sticking to him in all the wrong places, but whose he to complain when he's got a sweaty Mountie nuzzling his neck and plastering him to his fridge? "Yeah, well, I would've tasted like clean if somebody'd let me finish my shower."
"That wasn't my fault."
"Sure, blame the wolf."
"I don't have to blame him, he thought it up all on his own."
Ray would want out of the wet jeans if he were Fraser, or it could just be Ray wanting to see Fraser's naked, but he gets sidetracked in the absurdity of their conversation. "Are you tellin' me that Dief wrecked my shower on purpose?"
"He said he was tired of waiting for us to make something happen." Fraser's lips brush against Ray's neck as he talks, and the resulting shiver has nothing to do with the increasingly uncomfortable nature of Ray's position.
"He told you that, huh?"
"Something to that effect, yes."
Ray can't help the chuckle that follows Fraser's declaration. "This from the man who kissed me and then tried to pass it off as 'buddy breathing'?"
"I was not attempting to pass anything --" Fraser begins, lifting his head to look Ray in the eye.
Offended is a good look on Fraser, and Ray silences the inevitable protest by licking the corner of Fraser's mouth. "Shut up and help me breathe."