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aimeeliciousI don't think many people on my flist read due South fic, but I'm posting it publicly anyway, just in case. This was originally written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moosesal's 30th birthday and posted in her surprise community ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hetforum. She introduced me to the show and we watched DVDs this past weekend, so the whole Fraser/Kowalski pairing is on my mind, but as with any first story, I have probably hit a few cliches and/or OOC moments, and it's rather fluffy in the end. My apologies in advance.
Title: Right and Good
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: whichever one means a twelve-year-old who isn't homophobic can read it
Spoilers: whole series, but nothing major
Warnings: off-screen injury
Status: Complete, but not beta'd.
Ray glanced at his partner, who was staring out the car window at the rain. It drove him crazy when Fraser was quiet like this, not his usual reserve, but stone cold nothing.
"Stop it, Fraser," he said finally, breaking the silence.
"What am I doing, Ray?" Fraser responded evenly, not turning his head.
"You haven't said a thing since we left the 2-7, and I know you gotta be thinking about something. Something not good, probably, now come on. Tell me."
Right. Nothing.
"We're gonna be stuck in traffic for a while and I don't want to get bored," Ray tried again. Times like this he actually wished that crazy wolf was in the back seat. At least Fraser usually seemed willing to have a conversation with *him*.
"Fraser, talk to me," he wheedled, having decided that whining might be the only way. Except when Fraser finally did turn and look at him with dull eyes, Ray realized he had completely underestimated the situation. Which he still knew nothing about, but clearly it was worse than he thought.
He couldn't just drop Fraser off like this, intervention was required, so he manouvered the Pontiac between cars, over to the right and off of 12th, pulling up next to a small bar they'd been to before. There was no resistance when he gestured towards the door, and they settled into a booth near the back, where the smoke was thinner. When the waitress came around, he thought he was hearing things as Fraser ordered bourbon. Neat. A double.
"Since when do you drink?" Ray asked with a frown, after ordering a beer for himself.
Fraser was gazing at his hands and didn't look up. "Since my best friend is...in the hospital. Shot." He answered slowly, like the words hurt coming out of his throat. And for a minute, Ray felt like there was no air between them. Because *he* wasn't in the hospital, and *he* was Fraser's best friend. Wasn't he? And then it came to him, and he leaned forward.
"Vecchio?" he said softly, always conscious of his cover.
This time Fraser met his gaze and just nodded. The blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Fraser blinked rapidly when the drinks were set down in front of them, obviously not wanting anyone else to see his emotional display. Ray fumbled with his wallet and handed the waitress two $20s, adding a request to keep it coming.
After she walked away, Ray found himself staring at the table too. Well. He had no idea how to handle this. An upset Canadian was not something he had much experience with, and an upset Fraser was pretty rare too. But he did know what that felt like, to be afraid and worried and alone. And this was Fraser, the guy who meant more to him than...now was not the time to go there. This was Fraser, his buddy, his friend, his partner. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then reached out and took Fraser's hand.
For a moment, he forgot what he was going to say. They touched casually all the time, little bits of absent-minded affection, but he was pretty sure this was the first time he'd done it on purpose. And it felt...tingly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing those strong fingers gently before letting go. Before he found it impossible to let go. "Wanna tell me what happened?"
The bourbon was downed in one toss, and Fraser started talking.
"Lieutenant Welsh informed me this afternoon that Ray was shot in the line of duty by another police officer who did not realize Detective Vecchio was undercover. An 'unfortunate accident', is what they appear to be calling it." Fraser shook his head, and Ray had to agree. Things did go wrong, sure, but that was a pretty lame explanation for a cop shooting another cop. "This occurred almost two weeks ago. The Lieutenant did not even know of the situation until this morning, as the Las Vegas Police Department was attempting to keep the incident from becoming newsworthy and thus ruining all of Ray's efforts."
"How's that? I mean, Vecchio gets shot, the operation is doneski, right? Oh, except if the cop didn't know, then he didn't say anything, so the goons think their boss really took one..." Ray let his voice trail away as he watched Fraser polish off another double.
"Precisely, Ray. Detective Vecchio's injury actually enabled federal agents to arrest additional suspects coming to visit him in the hospital, criminals who were previously difficult to apprehend." Fraser snorted, a sound Ray was certain he'd never made before, at least not in public. "All it took was a bullet to Ray's skull."
Ray winced at that, then winced again when Fraser signaled the waitress for a third drink. "As someone more used to hangovers than you, my Mountie friend, I'm thinking you shouldn't have another one."
"And why not, Ray?" The voice was a mixture of anger and resignation. "What else can I do? I am not permitted to go to him, I cannot glean any additional information from Lieutenant Welsh, so I am left with only worry and no action. Other people seem to derive relief from alcohol, Ray, would you deny me that?" Fraser looked almost pitifully at his empty glass, and under other circumstances Ray would have found it kind of cute, but this was too much.
"I'm worried about *you* right now, with the drinkin' and whatnot. It's out of character Frase, and you never do something out of character. I just don't want to see you hurtin' in the morning, that's all." It wasn't quite the truth, Ray didn't want to see Fraser hurting ever, but close enough. "Let me take you back to the Consulate, okay? We can talk to Welsh tomorrow and see about figuring out a visit."
"You would go with me?" Fraser seemed both suprised and pleased at the idea, and Ray felt briefly annoyed that Fraser would think he *wouldn't* go with.
"'Course I will. I'm your partner. Still." Always. And that was a sticky point--if Vecchio wasn't undercover anymore, what happened next? Ray did not want to think about that, think about life without Fraser. He had enough of those thoughts when the Mountie did stupid things like jump off buildings and hang out in sinking ships.
"Come on, let's go." As they slid out of the booth, Ray found himself practically draped in Fraser, who was obviously feeling the effects of his unusual behavior. It was actually kind of nice, he smelled really good, but god, Ray didn't wish bourbon aftertaste on anyone.
"I did not mean to slight you when I spoke of Ray earlier as my best friend," Fraser said as they made their way to the car.
"No harm no foul, I know you guys worked together long before I showed up," he responded, busy tucking Fraser into the front seat and then helping him with his seatbelt when it became clear those normally talented fingers were completely useless after a few drinks. But before he could stand up and walk around to the other side of the car, he felt Fraser breathe into his ear.
"Ray Vecchio is my best friend, but you, Ray, are my everything."
He couldn't move, even though he knew they must look weird with him bent over in the most awkward position ever, practically lying on his partner's lap. But he was stuck there because Ray was pretty sure Constable Benton Fraser had just said something completely amazing and ridiculous and totally unexpected and it was probably just the alcohol talking.
"Fraser, that's just the alcohol talking, you're tired and upset. I'll get you home and we can start tomorrow fresh as a daisy." And didn't he sound like an idiot. This time he made an actual effort to get up, only to be jostled around until he was kneeling uncomfortably on the doorframe and face to face with a very earnest Fraser.
"Home is with you, Ray. I don't want to go back to the Consulate." And with that pronouncement, Fraser kissed him. Kissed him. Lips, on his, soft, warm, slightly damp, and there was the bourbon and something spicy and oh my god, he was kissing Fraser and it was better than any dream he'd ever had, better than anything that had ever come before. When they finally pulled back, Ray couldn't do anything but stare.
"Not the alcohol talking?" he finally said dumbly, fairly certain that he must have gone insane and would wake up any second in the psych ward at Mercy.
"Life, I have suddenly found, is too short," Fraser stated, enunciating clearly. "I do not wish to waste another moment of it without you."
That deserved a response, and he was thinking yes, uh-huh, so Ray nodded, his neck still gently cradled in Fraser's hands. "Um, me either. That is, I don't want to waste time either. Alone, I mean. I'd rather be with you."
"Then we are in agreement. May I come home with you, Ray?" Fraser asked, smiling slightly, and Ray nodded again.
"I just gotta...you know, get up and drive us there," he said, gesturing at their current position.
"Understood," said Fraser, dropping his arms. Ray leaned forward and kissed him again, a quick and passionate promise, before practically running around the car and jumping into the driver's seat. He started the engine and then glanced over at Fraser, who was this time looking back.
"You know it's gonna be all messy and challenging, us together?"
"Yes, Ray. But it will also be right, and good," Fraser replied, sounding certain.
"Right and good. Yeah, I can work with that," Ray said, and started down the street towards home.
moosesal's 30th birthday and posted in her surprise community hetforum. She introduced me to the show and we watched DVDs this past weekend, so the whole Fraser/Kowalski pairing is on my mind, but as with any first story, I have probably hit a few cliches and/or OOC moments, and it's rather fluffy in the end. My apologies in advance.Title: Right and Good
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: whichever one means a twelve-year-old who isn't homophobic can read it
Spoilers: whole series, but nothing major
Warnings: off-screen injury
Status: Complete, but not beta'd.
Ray glanced at his partner, who was staring out the car window at the rain. It drove him crazy when Fraser was quiet like this, not his usual reserve, but stone cold nothing.
"Stop it, Fraser," he said finally, breaking the silence.
"What am I doing, Ray?" Fraser responded evenly, not turning his head.
"You haven't said a thing since we left the 2-7, and I know you gotta be thinking about something. Something not good, probably, now come on. Tell me."
Right. Nothing.
"We're gonna be stuck in traffic for a while and I don't want to get bored," Ray tried again. Times like this he actually wished that crazy wolf was in the back seat. At least Fraser usually seemed willing to have a conversation with *him*.
"Fraser, talk to me," he wheedled, having decided that whining might be the only way. Except when Fraser finally did turn and look at him with dull eyes, Ray realized he had completely underestimated the situation. Which he still knew nothing about, but clearly it was worse than he thought.
He couldn't just drop Fraser off like this, intervention was required, so he manouvered the Pontiac between cars, over to the right and off of 12th, pulling up next to a small bar they'd been to before. There was no resistance when he gestured towards the door, and they settled into a booth near the back, where the smoke was thinner. When the waitress came around, he thought he was hearing things as Fraser ordered bourbon. Neat. A double.
"Since when do you drink?" Ray asked with a frown, after ordering a beer for himself.
Fraser was gazing at his hands and didn't look up. "Since my best friend is...in the hospital. Shot." He answered slowly, like the words hurt coming out of his throat. And for a minute, Ray felt like there was no air between them. Because *he* wasn't in the hospital, and *he* was Fraser's best friend. Wasn't he? And then it came to him, and he leaned forward.
"Vecchio?" he said softly, always conscious of his cover.
This time Fraser met his gaze and just nodded. The blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Fraser blinked rapidly when the drinks were set down in front of them, obviously not wanting anyone else to see his emotional display. Ray fumbled with his wallet and handed the waitress two $20s, adding a request to keep it coming.
After she walked away, Ray found himself staring at the table too. Well. He had no idea how to handle this. An upset Canadian was not something he had much experience with, and an upset Fraser was pretty rare too. But he did know what that felt like, to be afraid and worried and alone. And this was Fraser, the guy who meant more to him than...now was not the time to go there. This was Fraser, his buddy, his friend, his partner. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then reached out and took Fraser's hand.
For a moment, he forgot what he was going to say. They touched casually all the time, little bits of absent-minded affection, but he was pretty sure this was the first time he'd done it on purpose. And it felt...tingly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing those strong fingers gently before letting go. Before he found it impossible to let go. "Wanna tell me what happened?"
The bourbon was downed in one toss, and Fraser started talking.
"Lieutenant Welsh informed me this afternoon that Ray was shot in the line of duty by another police officer who did not realize Detective Vecchio was undercover. An 'unfortunate accident', is what they appear to be calling it." Fraser shook his head, and Ray had to agree. Things did go wrong, sure, but that was a pretty lame explanation for a cop shooting another cop. "This occurred almost two weeks ago. The Lieutenant did not even know of the situation until this morning, as the Las Vegas Police Department was attempting to keep the incident from becoming newsworthy and thus ruining all of Ray's efforts."
"How's that? I mean, Vecchio gets shot, the operation is doneski, right? Oh, except if the cop didn't know, then he didn't say anything, so the goons think their boss really took one..." Ray let his voice trail away as he watched Fraser polish off another double.
"Precisely, Ray. Detective Vecchio's injury actually enabled federal agents to arrest additional suspects coming to visit him in the hospital, criminals who were previously difficult to apprehend." Fraser snorted, a sound Ray was certain he'd never made before, at least not in public. "All it took was a bullet to Ray's skull."
Ray winced at that, then winced again when Fraser signaled the waitress for a third drink. "As someone more used to hangovers than you, my Mountie friend, I'm thinking you shouldn't have another one."
"And why not, Ray?" The voice was a mixture of anger and resignation. "What else can I do? I am not permitted to go to him, I cannot glean any additional information from Lieutenant Welsh, so I am left with only worry and no action. Other people seem to derive relief from alcohol, Ray, would you deny me that?" Fraser looked almost pitifully at his empty glass, and under other circumstances Ray would have found it kind of cute, but this was too much.
"I'm worried about *you* right now, with the drinkin' and whatnot. It's out of character Frase, and you never do something out of character. I just don't want to see you hurtin' in the morning, that's all." It wasn't quite the truth, Ray didn't want to see Fraser hurting ever, but close enough. "Let me take you back to the Consulate, okay? We can talk to Welsh tomorrow and see about figuring out a visit."
"You would go with me?" Fraser seemed both suprised and pleased at the idea, and Ray felt briefly annoyed that Fraser would think he *wouldn't* go with.
"'Course I will. I'm your partner. Still." Always. And that was a sticky point--if Vecchio wasn't undercover anymore, what happened next? Ray did not want to think about that, think about life without Fraser. He had enough of those thoughts when the Mountie did stupid things like jump off buildings and hang out in sinking ships.
"Come on, let's go." As they slid out of the booth, Ray found himself practically draped in Fraser, who was obviously feeling the effects of his unusual behavior. It was actually kind of nice, he smelled really good, but god, Ray didn't wish bourbon aftertaste on anyone.
"I did not mean to slight you when I spoke of Ray earlier as my best friend," Fraser said as they made their way to the car.
"No harm no foul, I know you guys worked together long before I showed up," he responded, busy tucking Fraser into the front seat and then helping him with his seatbelt when it became clear those normally talented fingers were completely useless after a few drinks. But before he could stand up and walk around to the other side of the car, he felt Fraser breathe into his ear.
"Ray Vecchio is my best friend, but you, Ray, are my everything."
He couldn't move, even though he knew they must look weird with him bent over in the most awkward position ever, practically lying on his partner's lap. But he was stuck there because Ray was pretty sure Constable Benton Fraser had just said something completely amazing and ridiculous and totally unexpected and it was probably just the alcohol talking.
"Fraser, that's just the alcohol talking, you're tired and upset. I'll get you home and we can start tomorrow fresh as a daisy." And didn't he sound like an idiot. This time he made an actual effort to get up, only to be jostled around until he was kneeling uncomfortably on the doorframe and face to face with a very earnest Fraser.
"Home is with you, Ray. I don't want to go back to the Consulate." And with that pronouncement, Fraser kissed him. Kissed him. Lips, on his, soft, warm, slightly damp, and there was the bourbon and something spicy and oh my god, he was kissing Fraser and it was better than any dream he'd ever had, better than anything that had ever come before. When they finally pulled back, Ray couldn't do anything but stare.
"Not the alcohol talking?" he finally said dumbly, fairly certain that he must have gone insane and would wake up any second in the psych ward at Mercy.
"Life, I have suddenly found, is too short," Fraser stated, enunciating clearly. "I do not wish to waste another moment of it without you."
That deserved a response, and he was thinking yes, uh-huh, so Ray nodded, his neck still gently cradled in Fraser's hands. "Um, me either. That is, I don't want to waste time either. Alone, I mean. I'd rather be with you."
"Then we are in agreement. May I come home with you, Ray?" Fraser asked, smiling slightly, and Ray nodded again.
"I just gotta...you know, get up and drive us there," he said, gesturing at their current position.
"Understood," said Fraser, dropping his arms. Ray leaned forward and kissed him again, a quick and passionate promise, before practically running around the car and jumping into the driver's seat. He started the engine and then glanced over at Fraser, who was this time looking back.
"You know it's gonna be all messy and challenging, us together?"
"Yes, Ray. But it will also be right, and good," Fraser replied, sounding certain.
"Right and good. Yeah, I can work with that," Ray said, and started down the street towards home.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-25 03:05 pm (UTC)