Vee

Headstones!

vsee — Fri, 19 Oct 2012 19:09:10 GMT

Hello. Not gone, just quiet.

I am guessing that those of you who need to see this probably are also on their mailing list, but I got the news about Headstones doing a pledge project to put together a new album. They can certainly have my $10. But I thought the list of other possible pledge rewards was quite intriguing. I have an $11,000 dental bill looming soon, but yes, there is part of me that wants to skip buying replacement crowns, and instead have Headstones come and play an all acoustic set at my house party, and invite ALL OF YOU. :)

vsee — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 18:04:18 GMT

Tinzelda and I both adored the new Sherlock Holmes movie and my trip was great, too.

An author I like in another fandom had asked for some Sherlock Holmes recommendations, and T and I threw together a very quick list to get her started. I thought I'd just post it here as well.

I'd be delighted to make some recommendations. Here is a list to get you started. If I think of others, I'll add them later.

GENERAL RESOURCES

Archive of our Own has both a Sherlock Holmes 2009 category, and a book canon category, though that one has been overrun by BBC Sherlock stories, which are fine, just really DIFFERENT. Edit: it turns out that there are THREE Sherlock Holmes categories, including one that is labeled ACD canon. Neat! I'm not especially interested in the modern BBC version, because I like the whole Victorian thing so much more.

But about the Victorian versions--fans differ in opinions pretty strongly about this but I have always found it easy to read all of it and imagine whatever Holmes I was in the mood for that day (movieverse, book, Granada series with Jeremy Brett, etc)

2009 movie category at Archive of Our Own

Some useful coms you might like to look at:
cox_and_co
holmesian_news
holmesian_recs
holmeswatson09
rarelitslash
sherlockfest
sherlockicons
shkinkmeme
watsons_woes

AUTHORS

These authors are some real favorites.

TweedisGood Tweed writes stories based on book canon. I think my favorite story of hers is Miss Fatima's School of the Orient.

Garonne Garonne is a newer author who is focused on the movie and Granada series verses, and writes wonderfully. My go to author just now!

Charlotte Yonge writes mostly stories based primarily on Granadaverse-Jeremy Brett canon, but they are good, and readable with movie Holmes in mind, IMO.

Tinzela (Full disclosure that Tinzelda is a dear friend, but I happened to meet her because I enjoyed her stories so much.) Her focus is mostly on movieverse, and her Holmes has a lot of heart.

astolat She has only written a few Sherlock Holmes stories, but she is a wonderful writer. The Maiden Voyage of the Tiresias is especially fun.

JaneTurenne> Not writing SH just now, but I like her stories a lot. Matches is a real favorite.

Candle Beck She writes slightly darker, more unsettling stories than I usually go for, but she's a solid, entertaining writer.

OTHER RECS

This is a particular rich list of good recs written by someone else!

2009 movie recs

STORIES

I didn't have a quick list of links for specific stories on hand, so Tinzelda sent me these to pass on to you. She says these are some of her go-to stories. I'm not sure I know all of these myself! I'm going to add the first one myself

http://archiveofourown.org/series/2056 If you are looking for a good three way Holmes/Watson/Mary story. There is another really good one that I can't find a link for just now.

http://attentat.livejournal.com/6731.html#cutid1
http://www.excessant.com/HI/fiction/jems_bird/letter.htm
http://www.excessant.com/HI/fiction/pandapony/holmes_mistake/holmes_mistake.htm
http://nolessremarkable.wordpress.com/nc-17-mature-content/
http://www.excessant.com/HI/fiction/nlr_alicia/seventy_minutes.htm

OTHER INSPIRATIONS

I don't know if you like vids and art, but here is a list of a few favorite vid links

http://giandujakiss.dreamwidth.org/175347.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txrGM62bDQo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciKHx9HCXUg&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vML70Tf8ZpA

There is also a great deal of wonderful movieverse art work. Deviant art is a great place to look for that, but I wanted to link you right away to my favorite 2009 movie artist, paperflower86. http://paperflower86.deviantart.com/ (You will need a deviantart account to sign in to view explicit artwork. These will show up as a blank or a stop icon without being signed in)

http://paperflower86.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=48#/d2vxxcu
http://paperflower86.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=72#/d2qnj1e
http://paperflower86.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=72

And if you are looking for general language information for reading and writing SH fic, this is a good place to start. a Concordance

This entry was originally posted at http://vsee.dreamwidth.org/6292.html, where there are comments.

vsee — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 00:03:55 GMT

I'm off to visit my dear pal tinzelda tomorrow. ETA: Tinzelda has been instructed NOT TO PEEK. :) I wanted to make something Sherlock Holmes themed to take to her as a little thank you for hosting me.I was inspired by my 9 year old nephew who is currently obsessed with Lego minifigures. He knows I like Sherlock Holmes, even though he barely knows who that character is. But one of the new Lego minifigs is a generic character called The Detective. I was so tickled by this, that I was inspired to make Tinzelda a set of three pairs of Holmes and Watson minifigures. These were made by customizing and finding a supplier who would sell me individual components of the minifigs, as well as a small amount of custom painting, etc. I did the smallest amount of changing as I could, trying to make it accurate from existing parts. The only totally unaltered figure is Basl Rathbone, who is made from a stock Detecive minifgure with no changes.

Neither one of is much of a fan of the deerstalker look, but it's so adorable in Lego format. The first set is supposed to be Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce.t

The second set is Granada Holmes and Watson. I had the most fun with this, collecting some accessories for JeremyBrett!Holmes: a top hat, a violin case, a chemical table, scientific equipment, etc. Granada!Watson carries a leather writing journal, a revolver and a medical case.

The third version is 2009 Robert Downey Jr. Holmes and Jude Law!Watson. I'm incredibly fond of them and had a blast putting these together. Movie Holmes carries a fighting stick and a lock pick and has two fabulous hats, and Movie Watson has a revolver, handcuffs and a medical bag, as well as the best I could do for his fantastic brown hat.

I put these in a custom folded origami box made from scrapbook paper with vintage menswear logo on it, but I didn't get a picture of that.

It was great fun to put together, and I hope it brings tinzelda a smile.

This entry was originally posted at http://vsee.dreamwidth.org/6034.html, where there are comments.

vsee — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 10:24:08 GMT

This is possibly the worst headline writing I've seen:

Shattered star a man of Rennie parts

*groans and covers face*

ION, I have started, slowly, to work on getting my fiction housed elsewhere, and my posting moved over to DW. This may take awhile. The help I've read has been circular...telling me to configure my account for crossposting by configuring my account...where? Anyway. It will get done eventually.

As part of my housekeeping, I've been unfriending some people I haven't talked to for a long time, or who haven't updated their LJs in a year or more. If for some reason we haven't been talking, but you'd like to keep up, just drop me a PM.

Fiction by Vee

vsee — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 02:15:55 GMT

Putting this up as a placeholder for now. Thanks for your patience.

Listing of fiction by Vee

Silver , F/K, adult. Also available on my lj here .

PWP-ish, prequel to Turn Toward Home. Written in honor of Nos' birthday. First posted to nolimbs4u March 2008.

Drawing the Sun F/K, R. Ray takes a break in Fraser's cot. First posted for the lube challenge on ds_flashfiction, Februrary 2008 Also available here .

Turn Toward Home F/K, G. "Ray thinks this probably isn't how they should be spending the early evening of their first Valentine's Day together."

New Story: Silver (F/K, NC-17)

vsee — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 20:04:45 GMT

Title: Silver
Author: vsee
Pairing: F/K
Rating: Adult/explicit
Length: about 2800 words
Thank yous: Very big thanks go to arrow00 for encouraging me to pick this up and finish it, and for gentle, speedy beta reading. Special thanks to spuffyduds for her help. You guys rawk.
Notes: Birthday fic for the most fantabulous, funny, generous, and all around good egg, Nos, on her 25th. We love you, babe. This is a prequel to "Turn Toward Home" aka the Valentine beast, but it also can stand alone.
Disclaimer: This is an amateur work of fanfiction written solely for personal pleasure. No recognizable elements of the story belong to me.

Silver

Ray was about one-third awake, and so relaxed that he had the weird, momentary sensation of floating off the bed and not being able to move any of his muscles. After a moment, the world started to come back to him, twisted together with a confusing fragment of a dream that Fraser was talking to him, and he felt the smooth fabric where the comforter was twisted around his feet and bunched down low in front. His back was totally uncovered, and the air was cold on his skin. He started to shiver and fumbled to pull the blanket back up, his hand hitting some part of Fraser as he reached behind himself. Fraser moved up closer behind him, the heat of his chest against Ray's cool back, which eased the shivers.

"Di' you just say something?" he mumbled.

"No, Ray, but you were talking a bit in your sleep. You must have been dreaming."

"Mmmmm..."

He opened his eyes and saw the low light in the room, soft gray of the very early morning. There were bright silver reflections on the window sashes, where moonlight was still streaming into his west-facing bedroom windows. He raised his shoulders and head up. His eyes were still so tired, he was barely able to hold them open long enough to squint at the clock. It was nothing but a green smear of light at the foot of the bed. He could hear the clock radio was switched on, and playing some mellow, rolling piano music very quietly.

"What time izzt?"

"It doesn't matter."

Ray let his upper body slump back down into the pillows, curled back onto his stomach, and breathed slowly again.

He'd grown used to the fact that they were usually on slightly different sleep schedules. Fraser had been an early morning riser for most of his life. Spending three or four nights a week with Ray wasn't going to change so many years of habit. Ray was used to Fraser waking up before he did.

Some mornings he was up and dressed and making breakfast, clanking dishes before Ray's alarm went off. A few times, Ray found him sitting at his roll top desk, doing some of Canada's paperwork, or writing in his journal, when Ray finally stumbled out to the living room. Some days he was just sitting up in the bed with a pillow behind his back, reading a book, with a little wrinkle of concentration in the middle of his forehead. Once in awhile Ray woke to find him watching him sleeping, catching Fraser with a tender, surprised expression when Ray opened his eyes suddenly. Whatever Fraser was up to in the early morning, he usually ended up waking Ray, one way or another, a little before his alarm.

He still set his alarm every weeknight when Fraser was around, just in case. He supposed even an early riser might oversleep once in awhile. He had to admit even if it meant a few lost minutes of sleep, waking up any way to a lover was a lot better way to start the day off than to a buzzer or a snotty DJ's voice.

Oh, shit the radio was already on. "Did the alarm already go off? Shit, shit..." It was too dark and he still felt totally groggy, but maybe he just missed the buzzer. He started to pull himself up again, but Fraser's hands came down onto his shoulders and kept him from wiggling upright again.

"No, I turned on the radio. I was having some trouble sleeping. There was noise on the street. I didn't think the radio would wake you."

"S'okay, it didn't. I don't think." He listen to the music again, barely loud enough to be heard. "It's nice."

"Mendelssohn."

"Hmmm."

"Also, the moon is really bright tonight. I couldn't help but notice the light. There was a bar of moonlight on the bed. I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist pulling the blanket down to see what it looked like on your back. You're silver." He could hear the rueful smile in Fraser's voice.

"Nrrrmph. You did wake me up, you jerk." He was too tired to grouse. Fraser's body draped half over him as he lay on his stomach. He was warming back up too nicely now to sound fierce. Instead of apologizing, Fraser just sighed happily, and then lifted himself off Ray's back.

He felt strong hands rub across his loose shoulders. This always felt terrific when he was tight and tense, but he was startled by how great it was when his shoulders were relaxed. The deep strokes made the skin feel warm and glowing, and the muscles moved easily, languidly, with the motion, relaxed him even more. The stroking moved up onto his neck, tracing and rubbing each vertebra like climbing a ladder. Then Fraser moved into his ruffled bedhead, rubbing his scalp and pulling lightly at his hair. The tugging pulled Ray back again from the edge of sleep, the slight pain taking his attention and making heat stir not just in his scalp but all down his spine to his ass, and made his dick wake up. He shifted his bare hips down more firmly into the sheets and the comforter. He could feel the sudden increase of attention in the air, and he wasn't surprised when Fraser made a move.

He slid up closer to Ray, and drew his body up and back against the whole warm, naked length of him, rolling them back till they were both on their sides. His face was pressed into the back of Ray's head, his nose into Ray's hairline where it was bristly and shaved at the edge. He began kissing his way down the back of his neck, following the route he had just laddered up. One arm was already around Ray, and tickled the front of his throat, lingering over his voicebox. Ray knew Fraser got really hot when he made any noises in bed and maybe that was what was on his mind, so he let go of the small grunt of pleasure that had been building. It was nothing much, nothing showy or fake, but the tiny sound seemed to do something for him. He felt the sound buzz against Fraser's fingers, and then he felt the wave of heat against his back, as a warm flush moved across Fraser's chest and face.

Ray was still so groggy, so not ready to be awake, but all this seemed to be waking Fraser up more. Ray sighed, and kept his overtired eyes closed. "What are you doing to me? I'm half asleep. More than half." He was only partly teasing. He was pretty out of it, and with a few moments of relaxation he'd zonk right out again. Relaxation wouldn't happen with Fraser touching him like that, though.

"Mmm. Nothing much." Fraser tightened his arm more and rolled Ray up and back even further, snaking his other arm around then letting Ray settle and rest heavily against him, snugging his groin more firmly against Ray's ass. He was almost totally hard, and he felt hot against the cool skin. "You don't really need to be awake, anyway. This is good, just like this." Despite how wiped out he felt, Ray loved this tease. Fraser spent so much of his time being serious. Except, huh, the little hitches starting with his hips didn't feel like he was entirely kidding around.

Fraser's half pinned arm didn't stop his hand from roaming around on Ray's chest, scratching at the sparse hair there, working against the flow of the hair, and making Ray gasp again and his nipples tighten up. The other hand was much freer to move around, and lingered low, playing around his navel and belly, then onto his thighs, working the hair there in the same against- the- grain pattern, making Ray shudder along the edge of hypersensitivity there. He spread his legs as much as the position allowed, and tilted his pelvis, trying to distract him and move Fraser's hand. Fraser obliged by moving to cup and stroke his balls.

One hand pinched and rolled his nipple, and the other hand was lifting and teasing his balls, and the strong upper arms were still in tight around his sides, keeping Ray's body up hard against Fraser as he began to move in earnest. Ray couldn't shift much without breaking this perfect feeling of Fraser already moving and thrusting faster against the crease of his ass. He couldn't touch any part of Fraser directly this way, could only let himself sink into the feeling of being steered by Fraser's pleasure, of letting himself be used.

Fraser breathed harder as he rolled and tugged Ray's other nipple. He tensed with each small quiver against the pinching, adding a jerky half rest to the steady thrusts of his hips. It was as if his own nipples were getting played with, the way this was cranking him up. Ray considered for a minute breaking Fraser's grip on him, pushing him over, and taking control, going after his nipples with his fingers and his mouth. He could feel Fraser's nipples rubbing stiffly against his back, and Fraser's dick was rock hard now. His panting was sending warm rushes of air all over Ray's ears, the back of his neck. Ray felt a light sheen of sweat on his forehead when he rested it for a moment against his back. Fraser's belly and thighs were slicking up, too. His cock was starting to let go of small, hot spurts, mixing with sweat and making the motion even easier. No, Fraser was right. This was good, just like this, like this, now. He relaxed into the motion for a couple of minutes, letting Fraser grind and thrust. The hand moving under and around Ray's balls was firm, keeping him there, just where Fraser wanted him. The light hold, and intermittent stroking on the most tender part of him added a core deep note to his buzzing pleasure, made him feel both powerless and protected.

Ray was plenty awake now. His dick was throbbing and straining into the empty air. Fraser hadn't gone near it yet. He didn't have much room to move without causing a tug on his balls, but he started minutely shifting his hips back into the thrusts against his ass. The added friction made Fraser's cock twitch and spit another little bit of hot stuff. The hand on his balls let go, and moved down onto his thighs again, giving Ray the chance to move a little more. He immediately started rubbing his ass back in a counter rhythm. Fraser grunted and then said "I thought you were going back to sleep."

"Yeah, I am dead to the world. I'm sawing wood." He shoved his ass back again, pointedly. Fraser huffed a small laugh and pinched his nipple hard.

Fraser's cock slipped down further, pressing against the space between Ray's thighs. Ray shifted his legs more to make space. "Yes," Fraser muttered. He drew his hand back, and fumbled between them for a moment, guiding his slippery dick carefully between Ray's thighs, arranging everything till they fit together, and he started a fast rhythm of long, smooth thrusts. Almost immediately, Fraser's cock gave another spurt of precome. This wasn't going to take long.

Ray didn't really think that Fraser would just leave him hanging, but his cock was aching, and Fraser seemed to be off on some other planet, pushing and gliding and thrusting, over and over, groaning. Ray couldn't stand to wait any longer now with Fraser about ready to fly out of orbit. He reached down and wrapped his hand firmly around his dick. "Yeah, oh yeah." He started to jack himself fast, went heavy on the sweet spots underneath and around the head, trying to catch up to Fraser a little.

Fraser was pretty far gone but he must have noticed Ray's frantically moving arm. His hand came back to join Ray's, and for a few minutes, they moved together, and it was great, it was getting him there. He could feel it starting to build and it was going to be good . He felt the winding pleasure tightening his back and his stomach and he involuntarily pulled his thighs taut with the mounting pleasure, flexing and releasing tension in his thigh muscles.

Fraser groaned and lost it completely. His hand was still gripping Ray's cock, almost too hard, but he totally lost the compelling rhythm that was going to make Ray come. His hips rutted erratically in hard short stabs for an endless moment. Ray wished suddenly that he could see his face. Instead he let his thighs flex again, and felt Fraser go still and rigid, suspended there as his cock let loose the first pulses, wetting down his thighs, his balls.

He came and came, and then continued sliding, slower now, in long liquid movements, through the hot, slippery mess. Just when he couldn't figure how Fraser could stand to keep moving, he was wracked by another strong spasm, a powerful aftershock almost as strong as his orgasm. "Oh...oh..." he grunted right in Ray's ear. Then he was finally still.

Wow. That was different.

They had only been together for a couple of months, and so far Fraser had been really careful in bed. He tended to focus a lot of his time and attention on getting Ray off, and usually did so first. He often sucked Ray off before they moved on to whatever else the two of them could get up to together, doing it fast and with a certain expertise that sometimes made Ray wonder.

Fraser had been with guys a few times before, mostly when he first left home, so he had still been pretty young. Ray's lack of previous experience with men, outside his fantasies, seemed to worry Fraser. Ray figured he tried to overwhelm him with the pleasure so he would forget any reluctance. It had been fun, sure, but also it showed that Fraser hadn't really trusted him before. He hadn't trusted him enough to be a little selfish, to take what he wanted without having to melt Ray down into a shaky mess first.

Fraser pulled away from Ray's back, and moved down the bed. The cool air hit Ray's sweaty, sticky back and ass, and he shuddered. Fraser returned in a moment with a soft cloth, and started wiping him down. He realized that it was the leg of Fraser's union suit, which had been rumpled up at the foot of the bed ever since he skinned out of it last night. After one last swipe, Fraser turned him over on to his back. He spent a long moment looking him over, from his messy hair, along his body, which did look pale in the moonlight, to his dick, still standing up hard and straight. Fraser looked out of his head, hazy and happy.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth over Ray's, finally kissing him. Yeah, he always wanted more of that, so he bit lightly at Fraser's lips, and sucked on his tongue for a moment. Fraser pulled back and looked at him some more. "Oh, Ray, you look extraordinary in this light." Ray heard the tightness in his throat and he didn't think Fraser would be able to say anything more.

Fraser slid his hand through the lingering slickness in the crease of Ray's ass, played briefly around the opening, and then suddenly pushed his finger inside. Ray arched his back, and spread his legs wider, which made his dick bob and stand up even more. Fraser let his head drop down, watching his finger moving in and out of Ray.

He pulled away again for a minute, added a squirt of lube from the bedside bottle to his fingers, then moved himself down on the bed. He arranged himself so he was leaning on one elbow, up close and personal now, watching his dick twitch. He worked two fingers back into Ray, blazing over and over his sweet spot. The pounding tease went on and on, till he couldn't stand any more of his dick thrusting into the thin air. "Come on, I need you to--"

Fraser put his mouth on him, sucked in the head, swirled his tongue over it and then sank his mouth down far, half swallowing him. Ray's hips jerked crazily, and he had only a few seconds of pure heaven thrusting into Fraser's mouth before he came, hard.

He floated for awhile with his eyes closed, felt Fraser go over him again with the flannel fabric, till he was about ready to purr and halfway back to sleep again.

"Are you comfortable, Ray?"

"Never better." He was suddenly aware again of the quiet radio now that he was still. A man with a very smooth voice was talking about Beethoven, then more piano music started up.

"How much time till it is really morning?" Before Fraser even took a breath to answer with some bull about how it is technically morning now, Ray adds, "Before coffee."

"We've got an hour before the alarm. Don't worry."

Before he could come up with a smart reply, or kiss Fraser again, or move another muscle, Ray was asleep again.

END

Drawing the Sun (F/K, R)

vsee — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 00:37:17 GMT

First posted on ds_flashfiction (earlier today) for the Lube Challenge. Reposted here now that the challenge is officially closed.

Title: Drawing the Sun
Author: vsee
Pairing: F/K
Rating: R
Word count: About 4200
Summary: Ray takes a break in Fraser's cot.
Notes: Thank you, spuffyduds, for beta reading and encouragement.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations do not belong to me. This is an amateur work of fanfiction written solely for personal pleasure.

Drawing the Sun

"We will take a two hour recess for lunch. Please be back here promptly at two o'clock. Thank you." The judge banged her gavel.

A babble of voices rose in the courtroom, and chairs scraped back. There was a push as half the crowd milled toward the front of the room and half elbowed for the door. The room was stale and a little too warm, and Ray couldn't wait to get out of there and back out into the sunshine of the early June day.

Ray turned in the row of benches near the front where he sat with the other witnesses who had testified that morning, to catch Fraser's eye. When their eyes met, Fraser gave him a small smile and a nod. He was sitting back in the regular seats behind the swinging gate, like an ordinary civilian. Fraser hadn't been on the witness list, even though he'd been there for the bust.

"Excuse me, Jackson," Ray muttered as he stepped around the other detective. "If I don't get out of here now and get another cup of coffee and something to eat, my head is going to roll off." Jackson snorted, and feinted with his foot as if to trip him. Asshole. Ray smirked and stepped into the aisle, to make his way to the door.

Apparently the new junior prosecutor wasn't comfortable with Fraser's semi-official status with the Chicago PD, or didn't trust that he could explain why a Mountie had been on the scene to the jury. Ray had wondered how his testimony would seem without Fraser taking the stand, too. He really needed this to go right. He needed to nail those smugglers to the wall. He needed to sound right, and he needed to look right.

He'd decided that his old court suit was starting to look a little dated, and a little worn, so he had gone down to the Loop last week to a snazzy men's store to get himself a new suit. It was slate grey and the jacket had a modern cut. The pants had to be let out to accommodate his long legs. The salesman had talked him into a crisp, deep teal shirt that had seemed a little iffy on the hanger, but looked good under the jacket. He had even picked a new, finely patterned grey, black and brown tie. He looked sharp, if a little like a hipster bank executive, fresh out of business school. He'd shaved close that morning and put on his heavy black glasses to complete the I'm a serious cop look, but he could already feel the prickle of fresh stubble when he ran his hand over his chin.

Fraser had talked Ray through the events from three months before on the phone last night. And he'd come to court, and sat through the whole morning of testimony. His friendly face in the crowd had given Ray a boost. Ray had been sharp with names, dates, descriptions and details, and Fraser had just looked more assured and proud the more Ray talked.

Ray's body felt light with relief as he exited the courtroom. He was glad his part in making the case was over. He met Fraser just outside the door, and they fell into step as they descended the huge double staircase that led out to the main lobby doors.

Once outside, Ray turned his face up into the sun, and took a few deep breaths to clear his nose of the courthouse funk. Chicago air wasn't the cleanest, but today it seemed fresh. Ray felt good, the day was going his way, and he looked like a million bucks in his new suit. Or at least like a c-note.

"You did a wonderful job."

"Yeah." He grinned at Fraser. "Do you want to take me to lunch? I don't think they'll call me back to the stand, but I have to be there for the afternoon session."

"I am sorry, I don't have time. I am afraid that I won't be able to come back for the afternoon, either. I'm late getting back to the consulate. The Inspector is at a meeting in Toronto today, and I agreed to cover her weekly conference call with her superior. I need to be ready to take the call in twenty minutes. Do you think you could give me a ride back? I don't think I will make it in time any other way."

"Sure, of course. Why didn't you leave if you had somewhere else to be?"

"I wanted to hear the end of your testimony. I admit, I also lost track of the time. You were very compelling."

Ray laughed and clapped Fraser's shoulder. "That's me in a nutshell."

"The conference call should only last twenty or thirty minutes. If you like, you could wait for me, and then we could get lunch at the diner. After that I have to take over the desk from Turnbull. Otherwise I would come back this afternoon."

"Yeah, that sounds good. I think I've got enough time. Let's go."

It was weird to be back at the consulate, sitting around in the fancy sitting room where he'd spent so much time hanging around with Turnbull during the whole Volpe shitstorm . The sofa was as flowery and hard and formal as Ray remembered it. There was a TV in here, but it had terrible reception and no cable hookup. Ray thumbed through the stack of videos on top of the TV. Curling. Hockey. Pretty Woman. Ugh. Probably Turnbull's. It seemed a little soft for the Ice Queen.

Ray rubbed his eyes. Now that the rush of facing the smugglers in court was over, he was starting to feel tired. Maybe he was just hungry, too, but he was having trouble staying awake. He knew from past experience that there was no point in trying to lie down on the sitting room sofa. He was too tall, and it was too lumpy.

Fraser said the call might only last twenty minutes, but twenty minutes was long gone. Ray wandered out of the sitting room, and looked back up the hall toward the lobby. Turnbull was at the front desk talking on the phone, answering some complicated question about a lost passport. When he saw Ray looking over at him, he gave him a two fingered salute, and went back to confusing the hell out of the caller on the other end. No help there.

Ray went the other way down the hall until he stood in the doorway of the Inspector's office. Fraser was in her oversized chair behind her huge desk, under her massive poster of the Canadian flag. The boxy black speaker phone filled the middle of the desk, and a male voice droned on about forms, and supply requisitions. Fraser had slouched down a little, and looked tired and hungry, too.

"Yes, sir, " he said. "I can take care of that first thing tomorrow morning."

He looked at Ray and shrugged, then rolled his eyes a little. He mouthed "I'm sorry." He pointed to his watch, and then out toward the front door, and gave him a questioning look.

Ray shook his head, then pointed down toward Fraser's office. He knew Fraser had a cot in there, and he had even slept on it for a couple of hours the last time he was here. He figured Fraser probably wouldn't mind too much if he did that again. He could grab a few minutes of rest. He didn't want to show up for the afternoon session looking dragged out.

Fraser just looked puzzled, so he pointed down toward the office again, and put his hands up to his cheek and mimed sleeping.

He still looked faintly confused, but he nodded, so Ray took that as permission.

He had forgotten just how tiny Fraser's office was. It was crammed with furniture. On one side, it was set up like a regular office with a desk, an office chair, a visitor chair, and a PC set on a stand next to the desk. On the other side, other than the cot he remembered, there was a narrow wardrobe, a tiny bedside table with a lantern on it, and a footlocker. When he crashed in here before, he thought of it like a prison cell, a place a guy would get claustrophobic. Today, it seemed kind of nice. Sheltered, contained, kind of cozy. The sunlight streamed in through the tiny window, which was open, and the plain white curtain swayed a little in the warm breeze coming in. It smelled kind of like pencil shavings and kind of like Fraser--clean and a little like pine. The scratchy wool blanket with the stripes he remembered was folded and sat on top of the footlocker. The cot was made up with sheets, and a light, white cotton blanket.

Ray stretched his arms up over his head until his shoulders both popped softly. Then he slid off the suit jacket, and tossed it over the arm of the desk chair. He loosened his tie way down and undid the top two buttons on the shirt. He sat down on the edge of the cot, kicked off his shoes, then pulled off his heavy glasses, folding them and setting them next to the lantern on the bedside table. He let himself drop over on top of the soft blanket, and closed his eyes. Hmmm, not the Ritz, but not bad. He wiggled a bit and pulled the feather pillow further under his neck. He peeled his socks off one at a time with his toes, and kicked them off the end of the cot. He hoped they landed somewhere near his shoes. He closed his eyes again, and tried to drift.

For a few minutes, he let himself go, not thinking too hard about how personal this was to be lying in Fraser's bed, with his head on Fraser's pillow. The bedding smelled even more strongly of Fraser, the everyday, normal smell he knew well, and more--like clean sweat, and a little musky. Ray turned his head a little more into the pillow, and tried to ignore the growing heat low in his belly, the feeling of his dick stirring.

The slow burn was clashing with his busy brain and his growling stomach, anyway, damping down his good mood, along with his twitchy dick. He was still jazzed from earlier, and he couldn't stop thinking about the case, thinking about all that happened at the bust.

It had gone down in March. It was a convoluted smuggling operation involving swapping out crates of legitimate baby formula for a shipment of counterfeit white tube socks. He didn't even know how the Celine Dion CDs fit into the scheme, all he knew is those guys went crazy when Fraser, Ray, Huey, Dewey, Jackson and O'Connor went to arrest them.

In his testimony, Ray had described the operation to track the shipments, the plan to make the arrests, and the long, seemingly endless firefight. Ray described the wound that had put him out of action for the last few minutes of the fight. He had been nicked in the meat of his thigh with a bullet. He had played it with as much cool dignity as he could muster on the stand, the wounded police officer. He felt like an ass, playing it for sympathy, but he wanted to get those bastards, but good.

What he didn't say in court was that even though it was just a small wound, it bled like crazy, and hurt more than he would have imagined. Jackson and Huey had the smugglers in cuffs and shoving them toward the unmarked police van by the time Fraser found him, slumped beside his silver Chevy, clutching his leg and cursing quietly to himself. Fraser had paled, even though his voice sounded steady. "You've been shot."

"I don't think it's too bad. The bullet isn't in me, it's in the side of the car, see?" He remembered that his hand had flailed weirdly up toward the car. He had felt a little lightheaded. "But Christ, it hurts like a motherfucker. And I think I am sitting in a fucking slush puddle."

His eyes had burned like someone yanked out a nosehair, but he wasn't going to act like an idiot in front of Fraser. Fraser hadn't paid that much attention to his face, though. He had reached into an inside pocket of his red coat, and pulled out a snow-white handkerchief. He knelt down beside Ray, and began dabbing some of the blood from around the tear in his jeans, then said, "I'm sorry, Ray, this is going to hurt."

He had pressed the cloth down firmly over the wound, and pain flared up so hot and bright that Ray couldn't see for a few moments. "Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." Ray gasped for breath. Fraser just sat with him, until the pain receded enough for him to notice that Fraser had started stroking the back of his neck with his other hand. It hurt, it hurt, but that big, warm hand felt nice on his neck and distracted him. After another minute, Fraser moved Ray's hand over the makeshift bandage, and then helped him up from the ground, practically dead-lifting him, till he could get his good leg under him. Fraser got an arm around his middle and helped him hop into the passenger side of the car. Fraser drove him to the hospital, where they cleaned the wound, and gave him a tetanus booster, and some happy pills.

Something had changed between them after that day. Ray was aware, even before he got shot, that he had some feelings for Fraser that were beyond buddies. He would have to be blind not to notice that Fraser was gorgeous. If you spent enough time with the guy though, listening to his weird stories and going to basketball games, and having a burger with him after work, you kind of stopped seeing the magazine-cover good looks all the time.

It sometimes took Ray by surprise to catch a glimpse of him coming in to the bullpen, or with his head bent over a file, and just think, wow . More and more he found himself with an inappropriate hard-on shaping up out of sight under his desk.

Ray knew he was lonely. He hadn't been with anyone since he went undercover as Vecchio. Before that, he'd dated a few women, never more than two or three dates. He'd also had a few encounters with guys, but it never came to anything at all. Just a night or two, and then they were gone.

Fraser was so different from the guys he grew up with, the guys he worked with, the guys he used to go have beers with once in awhile, and certainly different than the guys he'd fucked around with. He liked working with Ray, he was always up for going out after work, or coming over to Ray's place to relax, but Fraser had never given him any other sign.

Ray turned over and pressed his face completely into the pillow, breathed in deeply, letting the throb in his chest and in his dick soar up. For a moment he let his hips go, and he ground a couple of times into the blanket. He jammed his hand underneath his body, and cupped himself through the suit pants. The impulse to ride his palm hard was there. Instead he squeezed himself firmly, pinching a little, and forced himself to cool down. He turned onto his back, and stared at the ceiling.

He knew he shouldn't stay in Fraser's bed any longer. He had to get up. His head hurt a little now. Maybe an aspirin would help. He stretched his legs out, taking one last moment to enjoy being here, and then sighed. He could dry swallow an aspirin if he could find any, and maybe that would take the edge off everything. He rolled up onto his elbow, and pulled open the little drawer in the bedside table.

He reached in and pulled out the tube before he realized what he saw in the drawer. It didn't look like anything special, just a light blue tube of lotion that smelled faintly of almonds. Then he noticed that the rest of the drawer was filled with stacks of neatly folded clean white hankies. They looked just like the one Fraser pulled out and pressed to Ray's thigh that day. He shivered. There were no other bottles or toys, no skin mags, no dirty books in Fraser's jerk-off drawer, but that was definitely what it was. Wow, that was mighty personal. He felt another thrill move through his gut, as he turned the tube over to read the label, and to give it a quick sniff. He knew Fraser must jerk off, but finding this stuff, being here made it all very real to him all of a sudden, and he could picture him lying just where Ray was now, holding the tube in one hand and stripping himself with long, lazy strokes with the other.

Oh, god. OK, time to put the stuff back. Time to get the hell out of here. He put the lotion back in the drawer, and pushed it shut. It was then he noticed that the top must have been loose and a little bit had dribbled out onto his hand. With a disgusted grunt, he swung his legs over the side of the cot, holding the sticky hand up so he wouldn't get any on the blanket and looked around for a box of tissues. Then he remembered the hankies in the drawer and thought about using one. No, no, bad idea. What if Fraser had counted them? It didn't seem out of the question.

He was ready to roll up the sleeve of his now slightly wrinkled shirt and rub the lotion into his wrist when he spotted the box of tissues on the corner of the desk, by the visitor's chair. He wiped the lotion off, and threw the crumpled tissue in the wastebasket.

He picked up his shoes and socks from beside the cot, and dropped them next to the chair with his suit jacket on it. He was about to go back out into the hall to make his way to the bathroom, so he could wash his face and straighten out his hair, when Fraser came into the room, already talking.

"I'm sorry that took so long. For some reason he decided to ask me for a breakdown of the last two months of requisitions. Are you ready to go?" He stopped and his eyes widened a little as he took in Ray's messy hair, loose tie, creased shirt and pants, and bare feet.

"What have you been doing, Ray?" Fraser asked.

"I was trying to catch a quick nap. I wanted to use your cot. That's what I was trying to say before." He lamely did his little hands- to- cheek mime of sleeping again. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't mind," Fraser said, but he was still looking at Ray with some hesitation. "Were you looking for something in here?"

"Yeah, an aspirin. My head was starting to hurt. I think it will be OK, as long as I can get some food pretty soon."

"Yes, that seems like a good idea." His words sounded normal, but Ray could see that he was holding something back, and it was a struggle for him.

He looked him straight in the eye, and said "What, Fraser?"

Fraser sighed and looked away first. Then he stepped closer, right into Ray's personal space.

"I know you're not telling me the truth, all of the truth. I can smell it on you."

Oh God. Ray wanted to look away now, to step back, but he held his ground, raised his chin a little. He didn't back down or say smell what? He just waited to see what Fraser was going to do.

Fraser took a ragged breath, and continued. "I can smell my...lotion, and...lust. What were you doing in here?"

That was brave. Ray could be brave, too.

He stepped forward, and put his arms around Fraser, waited to see if he would do the same. His arms came up slowly around him, till Ray had his face against his shoulder, and they were holding on to each other.

"I was going to take a nap, but I was thinking about you," he mumbled into the side of Fraser's neck.

"Oh," said Fraser, and then he was moving his hands into Ray's hair and tilting his face toward him and then they were kissing.

Fraser's mouth was so hot and sweet over his, moving over and over his lips. Ray brought his hands up into Fraser's soft hair, and pulled him in a little closer, deepening the kiss, moving a little faster, making it a little more lewd, tangling his tongue between his lips.

Soon Fraser couldn't stifle a groan, and he pulled his mouth away to gasp for breath. He peppered Ray's chin and cheeks with kisses, as he panted. "I thought that you might...I couldn't tell."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you to know."

Fraser jerked his head back, and looked nervous.

"Hey, don't do that. That's not what I mean. I did, I do." He pulled Fraser up against him so that his hard-on pushed into his thigh. "Obviously, I do. I just didn't know you wanted this. I had no idea, and I didn't want to ruin things." Ray leaned in to kiss him again, letting his mouth linger, and gently rocking his hips against Fraser's.

Fraser pulled his mouth away again, and pushed his hips up into the movement. "Oh," he said again. "Oh, Ray. I thought of you so many times when I-- I thought about your hands--" His breath caught. "Your hands on me." Ray couldn't tell if he meant to confess this. He covered the moment with more kisses, and then reached down to cradle Fraser's dick in his hand.

Fraser groaned again as he made contact, but then he said. "Wait, Ray. Don't."

He moved his hand away, but kissed Fraser's ear, and asked "Don't? Why not?"

"Technically I am on my lunch break, but I am on duty. I am at work. My coworker is just down the hall. And you have to be back in court in less than an hour." Fraser pulled back slowly, as if he was having trouble letting go. "I want to be with you, but I can't. Not here, not right now."

Ray shook his head a little bit to try to clear it. "OK, that makes sense. Later?"

"Oh, yes ." It was so heartfelt that Ray couldn't help but grin at him.

Ray pushed down on his own hard dick with the heel of his hand, and took three deep breaths. "All right, if I am going to get back to court, I've got to get out of here right now. Otherwise, I think I might just tip you on to that cot, and make you forget about being on duty."

Fraser laughed. "Do you still need an aspirin?"

"No, my headache is gone. I could use a roast beef sandwich, though."

"Oh dear, it is getting late. Do you still have time to eat?"

"Not really, but I can grab a sandwich on the way back. I'll be fine."

Ray sat in the visitor chair and put his shoes and socks back on. He stuck his glasses back on his face.

"This isn't how I imagined it at all," Fraser said quietly. "Not in the middle of the day, not when the office is open. I would really like it if you would come back some other time, at night."

"Yeah, we can do that."

Ray ran his hands through his hair to try to get the spikes evened out, then straighted and rebuttoned his shirt, and pulled up the knot of his tie. He put his jacket back on, and turned to ask Fraser how he looked.

Instead of asking the question, he said, "I think I am in love with you. I think I've been in love with you for the past three months. Ever since you picked me up off the ground when I got shot. I couldn't stop thinking about that today, when I was lying there." He twitched his head toward the cot.

Fraser's face was surprised, but bright and happy with pleasure. He leaned toward Ray again, but Ray pushed him back. "Don't kiss me now or you'll make me hard again."

He turned to open the door, but Fraser grabbed his arm. He didn't seem to be able to find words to answer Ray's confession, but it was as if Ray heard it anyway.

"Good. Yeah. I will see you later."

"See you later."

END

Turn Toward Home (F/K, G)

vsee — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 14:09:13 GMT

Title: Turn Toward Home

Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski

Rating: Innocuous, with vague reference to sex.

Length: ~3800 words

Summary: "Ray thinks this probably isn't how they should be spending the early evening of their first Valentine's Day together."

Author's Notes: Many thanks to spuffyduds for a gentle and timely beta.

This started as a heart-shaped snippet for lamentables, but it turned into a longer piece. I was going to post this on the 15th, or as I was calling it, Leap Valentine's Day (365 days till the next occurrence of the holiday). I didn't quite make that deadline, either. Happy February 16th, everyone.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations do not belong to me. This is an amateur work of fanfiction written solely for personal pleasure.

Turn Toward Home

Ray thinks this probably isn't how they should be spending the early evening of their first Valentine's Day together. They have only been together for three months, and Ray really doesn't know what to do about Valentine's Day this year. He probably should have thought of a plan that doesn't involve putting all his layers of winter clothing back on as soon as they got back to his apartment.

Fraser is sitting on the couch wearing his blue flannel shirt, a sweatshirt, and he has his jacket already on. He's pulling on wool socks and his hiking boots. Ray is wearing his heavy coat, gloves, and a really dopey looking hat which flattens his hair. In this cold, he can't afford to go without it if they are going to make it all the way down to the park.

Dief is going to start bouncing off the walls any minute. His ears are up high, and he keeps whining , first at Fraser, and then at Ray. Lately, Dief has been stuck indoors at the consulate. He's acting pretty squirrelly, and definitely needs a good run before they settle in to do anything else.

If Ray's week hadn't been so crazy, he would have given this whole Valentine night thing a little more thought. Not much chance, though. Ray had spent the past two days interviewing guys from the bust of a huge meth ring. He hasn't seen much of Fraser.

"Hey, I could have used you at the station today," Ray says.

"The auditor from Ottawa is due to arrive on Monday. I am afraid I still have a lot of work to do on the file reorganization project. I wish the Inspector hadn't put that off so long."

"Right, but I can't believe you didn't get in on the bust after you spent so much time helping me set up those boneheads. We could have killed with those interviews. The dealer's five closest weasely friends. I could have used your good cop. Dewey wanted to butt in and do bad cop, as if."

Ray was blustering. He didn't say I missed you , but Fraser gets it.

Fraser had been racing all week to keep the Inspector happy, and Canada had won out over the 2-7. He pulled a couple of extra shifts at the consulate and still had to find odd hours to put in even more time, starting really early and staying late. That meant he slept in his own cot in his office.

Ray can handle the job without Fraser for a couple of days. It is the nights that get to him-- missing any of his nights with Fraser. That really sucks.

Fraser usually stays three or four nights a week at Ray's now, and he has accumulated some clothes, and a few personal odds and ends in one of the drawers of Ray's dresser. They don't usually plan their nights together. It depends on if Fraser has to go in early, or how tired they both are. Or, on a night like tonight--if Ray can just get Fraser into the car, back to his place, and up the stairs before he thinks of any good reason not to come back with him.

Thank god Ray hadn't had to make up some reason to call him this afternoon. Fraser showed up in the bullpen when Ray was almost finished for the day. Fraser ignored the chaos of pink paper hearts stuck all over everything, and Frannie dropping hints of what a special day it was. She'd become distracted while seductively licking a cherry tootsie pop, and got it stuck to Dief's coat. After Frannie snipped the lollipop out with a pair of manicure scissors, Ray had them all out the door and into the car, smooth as cream.

Dief whines again, and claws the front door a couple of times.

"Hey, watch the woodwork, furface."

As Fraser bends to tie his second boot, he says, "Diefenbaker has been getting more churlish and annoying all day. I think he's been watching too many sentimental movies. I don't know where he got the idea that he'd be spending the day wooing attractive females."

Dief shoots Fraser a pissy look and grumbles, then takes an uncharacteristic puppyish leap toward Ray, snaps at the tendon at the back of his calf, and bounds around to sit on Ray's foot.

Ray gives him a quick, vigorous scratch on the heavy ruff around his neck, and says, "Yeah, buddy, I hear that. Let's get out of here for awhile, and let you get your ya-yas out." Dief leaps up and barks several times, then snaps playfully at Ray's calf again, herding him to the door.

"Yeah, we're going."

Once on the street, they turn to the familiar route to the park. Dief trots ten feet in front of them, tail up and waving like a flag, weaving through the crowd of other people still making their way home from work. The neighborhood regulars know Fraser and Dief by now, and don't mind when Dief runs loose on the street, or in the park.

The evening is very cold and the sky has a few high, wispy clouds, faintly orange against the deepening blue. The sun dips low, already hidden behind the taller line of apartment towers and commercial buildings of the distant skyline. Light still glows on the windows of the low apartment buildings and shops of the neighborhood.

They lose sight of Dief as he squeezes through a knot of people up ahead. Then they hear a little squeak of protest. Fraser walks a little faster to catch up.

A lady Ray recognizes from the ground floor of his building is standing very still, holding a heart -shaped chocolate cake frosted with whipped cream away from Dief's muzzle. She is wearing four-inch heels and a trench coat. Ray's eyes linger briefly on the arresting sight of the shiny red shoes, and her thin, brown ankles above them. She shows a brief flash of leg high up, as Dief brushes against her again. She is maybe wearing nothing else. Somebody is going to get a surprise tonight. The wolf stares pleadingly up at the cake she clutches in both hands.

"I'm terribly sorry Mrs. Martinez, but Diefenbaker has quite a sweet tooth, and the smell of chocolate seems to have made him lose his manners. That cake does look wonderful. I am sure that Carlos will enjoy it."

A flush crosses her face, as she shifts the cake to one hand. She tugs the collar of the trench coat up with her other hand. "Yes, I hope you have a nice night, too, Benton," she says in her lilting accent. She readjusts her grip on the cake, and hurries away up the street as fast as her heels allow.

Yeah, a nice night. Valentine's Day, good Christ. He should have made some plans. Cake and high heels wasn't going to fly for two guys, but what about a dinner reservation? He hadn't thought to make a dinner reservation anywhere. Is that what he should have done?

He wasn't even sure if that was expected, or even something Fraser would like. They went out often, usually to one of the little Italian hole- in- the- wall places over near the consulate, or sometimes to the Chinese place that had the great dim sum on Saturdays. Nowhere too fancy, nowhere romantic, and nowhere with dancing.

"Do you want to get dim sum on Saturday?" He just blurts it out, apropos of nothing.

"Sure," says Fraser.

He'd taken Stella out to the fanciest dinner he could afford every year. When they went out on Valentine's Day the food was always tall and sauce was always squiggled on the plate, which was too white and too big. He always felt hungry and grouchy at the end of the meal.

He used to send flowers to her office where her legal assistant and the secretaries could coo over them. Those roses he sent every year started to backfire on him the last few years they were together, started to make her angry. She seemed to think that sending two dozen roses was not personal enough. He'd been afraid to stop sending them, though-- afraid she'd sense his growing misery and hopelessness. She loved his confidence. Her contempt crystallized when he'd lost that with her. For years he kept trying, and on Valentine's Day that meant pink lacy panties that cost a small fortune, handmade truffles from the fancy counter at Chocolat D'Or , the amethyst bracelet with the clasp that broke when he went to put it on her wrist. Always red roses to her office. Ray sighs, and shakes off the thought.

"You really should apologize to Mrs. Martinez the next time we see her, Diefenbaker. That was uncalled for. You know that chocolate is not good for you, and remember what happened the last time you tasted whipped cream?"

Dief huffs and gallops off again. He doesn't go far. As usual, Dief stops cold in front of the plate glass window at Katz Floral.

"Again with flowers, huh? We gotta stop and window shop every time. Tell me how you got a wolf who likes flower arranging. "

"Just my good fortune, Ray."

The entire window is nothing but cheap-looking glass vases, each filled with a dozen roses, a plastic stake and blank card sticking out above the curled flowers. They are all red. There are more roses-- white, yellow, and pukey -looking purple--wrapped in cellophane bunches, in buckets on either side of the door. Ray peers through the window at the dozens of vases all lined up, and the sign that reads:

1 dozen- $29.99, 2 dozen $55.99, 12 dozen only $299.99. Wow her this Valentine's Day!

The roses look like they have been popped out of a mold. They really are pretty boring. What do you know, Stella was right again.

Fraser seems kind of interested, though. Ray raises an eyebrow at him.

"They're a standard 'hybrid tea' variety, bred for slow opening. They wouldn't have much scent, like a wild rose has."

Ray shrugged, and they moved on from the window.

Crazy holiday, anyway. Where do he and Fraser fit on a day like today? Wow her, right. Roses with no smell. Right. For your strange, whittle-it-yourself, whatever-they-were of three months.

Right.

Maybe he should have called this morning to say Happy Valentine's Day. He'd thought of it as he was making his first cup of coffee, but it felt girly, silly.

But what about when they got home? Walking the wolf really wasn't the most romantic choice, but it seemed urgent at the time. A lot of the time, getting rid of the red uniform, and his own shoulder holster meant more than just changing into more comfortable clothing. A lot of evenings they spend an hour kissing, grappling, and rubbing each other off on the bed before Ray could even decide to have a beer before dinner. Tonight they had barely looked at each other as they changed out of work clothes. Maybe Fraser had been expecting him to make a gesture, push him up against something, and show him that he was irresistible. Everybody wants to feel sexy and desired on Valentine's Day. Had Ray missed his cue?

Fraser is gazing distractedly at a window display of kitchen gadgets, and smiling a little to himself. When he feels Ray's eyes on him, it turns into a real smile. Fraser's hand cups his forearm for a moment, and then his hand moves away, and back into his jacket pocket.

It seems like they are OK.

Ray takes a deep breath of the freezing air. He does have a couple of small presents for Fraser, hidden under the bed. He plans to hand them over after dinner. He doesn't want to make too big a deal out of it. They are just small things that made him think of Fraser.

There is a book he found with an eye-catching cover. It was written by a British lady who traveled around to find out where the different pigments to make all the colors of paint came from. It is cool--full of stories about painting and traveling. He'd already read half of it on the nights Fraser wasn't around. He figured Fraser might like to talk about the book sometime. He also bought a pair of deep brown, buttery-soft gloves that looked hand stitched. Those came from the shop where he took his leather jacket in to be sewn up and cleaned after the last nutty chase. He'd only had plain white wrapping paper in the junk drawer, but he wrapped the two presents anyway. He had found a place to hide them, even though Fraser wasn't there last night.

Dief waits at the traffic light for them. They stand at the intersection, waiting for the signal to change, and Ray thinks presents after dinner. Oh, shit. Is there any food in the house? He had not only not made any plans to go out, but he had flaked out on buying anything to cook, let alone anything special to eat. Ordering a pizza seems run of the mill.

"We should stop at Lee's on the way back, I think we're out of...uh, everything."

The light changes to green, and the walk signal comes on. They cross the busy intersection.

Ray hears himself a second too late. We're out of everything.

They haven't talked yet about Fraser moving in. Fraser doesn't even have a key yet. And even on those weeks when he ended up staying more than three or four nights, he still never stays in the apartment when Ray isn't there. He has a towel on the rack and a scary straight razor in a cup on the bathroom counter, but no key, no plans, no talk, yet.

Ray glances at Fraser again, trying to judge whether he heard the slip. This time, Fraser is looking straight ahead, his eyes following Dief as he sprints far ahead of them through the entrance gate of the park. "Right you are," Fraser says.

Dief runs around the perimeter like a crazy thing, zigging and zagging around the trees along the boundary, making five or six huge loops at full speed. Eventually he slows down in a patch of really deep snow. He does odd little kangaroo hops every few feet, so he can get his chest up out of the snow, and clear the next drift. He stops occasionally to sniff around, covering his face up to the ears in powder. Fraser laughs, and the sound makes a bubble of something rise in his own chest, till he is laughing a little, too. Dief pushes away the soft layer of snow with his nose, and digs frantically into the crusty, hard-packed drift, looking for a rabbit warren underneath.

Fraser calls him off. "Your rations will be enough to get through the night. You don't need to bother those poor creatures today. Though I am glad that your instincts have driven you to hunt something other than junk food." Fraser gives the wolf a companionable pat much like he'd given Ray's arm a few minutes ago.

Fraser and Dief set off at a fast jog on the clear pavement of the running trail loop. Ray leans against a bench and watches them.

Dief dances alongside, as Fraser runs with long, easy strides, his breath puffing out white--slowly, steadily. He knows from previous trips here that Fraser can run that loop without stopping for a good, long time without even panting for breath. Tonight, he stops next to Ray after the second trip around. His cheeks are pinking up from cold and mild exertion, and his eyes are bright. It is a nice change from the tired man who met him at the station. Ray wants to lean forward to kiss him, but they don't usually do that in the park, not with a whole group of teenagers down at the pond, playing hockey.

Instead, Ray bends down to make a snowball. He spends a few minutes throwing snowballs for Dief, who chases them, snapping his jaws and growling at them, instead of the rabbits. Then they walk over the other end of the park, to watch the kids play for awhile.

As Fraser always does when they see the kids out playing, he tells Ray another fragment of the story about a guy named Mark who had been his friend in Inuvik.

"Sometimes we got so involved in our game that we would play until it was almost too dark to see. My grandfather had to come out with a lantern to find me and get me to come inside more than once. On those days, I was late with my chores, and my grandparents got pretty upset with me. They were strongly in favor of finishing one's duties before turning to play."

"That's still not how I picture you as a kid. Playing so hard that you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. Forgetting yourself like that. Making the adults mad. I thought you mostly studied Latin, or something."

"Much of the time, I did. However, I loved pond hockey, and I had some friends to play with during those times we lived in town."

Ray ponders this for a minute. "I'm pretty good on skates. Let's play sometime. I think I can scrounge up or borrow some equipment. Some of the guys in Robbery are in a league."

"I would love that. I haven't skated much since I was a boy, but I could always keep up with Mark. Well, I did try it again twice, a few years ago. One night Mark, Ray Vecchio and I played hockey on a pond, with a boy about that age who came along."

"Really?" Ray feels a small twinge of jealousy. He assumed his offer to play hockey was something special, but Ray Vecchio had already beaten him to that.

"Oh, yes, although Ray spent a great deal of time falling down. He hadn't skated much before."

"Huh," says Ray, and grins. Hockey, sometime soon, then.

On the way back, they cross to the other side of the street, and stop in at Lee's, the small Korean grocery five blocks from Ray's building. The store is small, so Dief stays outside, curled under the bench just outside the door.

Old Mrs. Lee is at the register, and she smiles widely when Fraser and Ray come in. Old Mrs. Lee doesn't speak a lot of English, and Fraser only knows please and thank you in Korean, but that delights her. He manages to use his vocabulary every time they shop there.

Fraser's eyes skip right over all the convenience store crap at the front--the beer, the chips, the candy bars and the lottery counter. He always heads right back to the crowded, darker corner with the tiny produce case with a light over it like an aquarium. Fraser spends a moment over the case, and looks thoughtful. Then he bends to examine several cardboard boxes on the floor with vegetables in them. Ray turns away and heads to the meat counter. There are some chicken feet with the nails still on, and a few disgusting chunks of tripe in the meat case, but there are also a few plump, good looking whole chickens, and a fan of glistening pink-orange salmon fillets on ice. Ray gets Young Mrs. Lee to wrap a chicken to roast tomorrow night, and three of the salmon fillets. They'll go in the broiler and he can get some potatoes started right when they get back. It won't take too long.

When he turns back to find Fraser, he sees that Fraser has picked up a hand basket from the front of the store, and is filling up plastic bags with produce. He thought of potatoes, good. He's also got some knobbly looking carrots with the green parts still on top, and some brown, wrinkled mushrooms, and a cucumber, and two huge bags full of greens. One looks like spinach, but he doesn't even know what the other one is. Fraser also has a bag of apples, and is sniffing at a miniature crate of fancy Spanish tangerines.

Fraser sees the brown wrapped packages in his hands. "What did you get, Ray?"

"Salmon fillets."

"Great. We've got potatoes, and plenty of things to make salad."

Ray stares at the basket heaped up with vegetables. There is enough for salad for a week, or more. There are half a dozen apples in the bag.

They aren't just picking up a few things for dinner tonight. They are shopping for the next week. Fraser said we've got potatoes.

Fraser really wants to buy a whole little crate of tangerines to leave on Ray's breakfast bar, and he's not worried about a thing. Fraser is sniffing and squeezing oranges while Ray is figuring out his whole damned life here at the corner market.

Ray wants to buy him Spanish tangerines. Ray wants to buy him as much damned salad as he wants.

Fraser looks so happy as he runs his thumbnail over the tangerine rind and holds it up for him to sniff. Ray gets it, that this is what Fraser wants--just their ordinary happiness. On Valentine's Day and any other night he can get it.

"Great, Ben, yeah. Whatever you want." He gamely sniffs the tangerine skin. It smells fantastic. He knows they are going to go home and have a great dinner, and go to bed, and after, feed each other tangerines. "Throw 'em in the basket."

Ray hands Fraser a bunch of bills, not taking time to figure out how they are going to split this, or if they are going to bother. Old Mrs. Lee and Fraser spend a few minutes not-chatting as she rings up their groceries. Fraser says please and thank you in Korean, and nods politely. While Fraser is paying the bill, Ray ducks behind a row of crackers, and fishes out his key-ring. The apartment key works off the ring easily. Fraser will have to let them in when they get home, but Ray's got a spare he can add back on later.

They stop at the bench outside to redistribute the heavy bags of food, and to get Dief. Ray puts his hand on Fraser's shoulder.

"Hold up a second, OK?" Ray says. He has to do this right now, before he loses his nerve. "I've got something I want to give you."

Ray picks up Fraser's cold hand, which smells like tangerines, and presses a quick kiss into his palm. Then he puts the key into it, and closes his fingers around it.

END

Note: The book Ray buys for Fraser is Colour, by Victoria Finlay.

Sansets' Women Appreciation Day 6 Challenge

vsee — Fri, 10 Aug 2007 22:07:52 GMT

Yes, I do know I am really, really late with this. My plans for the afternoon were canceled, so I am going to hash this out while I still have time.

sansets asked for a response to a female character you've disliked, to find redeeming qualities in them.

I have pretty charged feelings about almost all the female characters on Due South. Women tend to impose on Fraser in a way I dislike, and also tend to step in the way of my slashy fun. But most of them have their moments that please me, especially Elaine, and Thatcher, from time to time.

Victoria seemed an obvious choice for this challenge at first glance, but the more I considered trying to deal with her directly, the more I just cringed. I don't like Victoria. I don't like anything about her, and I don't feel I was meant to. In the end, she's too unmixed a villain. I just can't really get my head around why poor Fraser got so whammied by her. Sure, she is beautiful, but she is so obviously cruel. I feel as though I must be missing something with her, because why else would Ben want her so much? However, I've never been able to see her as other than heartless, reckless, manipulative, cruel, controlling. She's a stereotype to me, and not much more.

Instead I wanted to talk about the women in Letting Go, and how they help Fraser deal with one of the most catastrophic events of his life. I would normally bristle at a character like Jill Kennedy, but for a long time I've had a slightly guilty secret liking for her. Is she a Mary Sue? She shows some signs. But...shrugs...she's the Mary Sue I like, I guess. She actually serves a function in the larger story of Fraser, IMO. I am usually hypersensitive and snarly about even a whiff of Mary Sueism. And yet...I enjoy Jill Kennedy.

I'm finally ready to try to explain why, because I have the feeling she is probably not well liked by many. I'd like to touch on all the women who appear in Letting Go for context.

I admit that it hurts to watch Victoria's Secret, but I am totally goofy about Letting Go. I LOVE Letting Go. (For the sake of full disclosure: I've watched Victoria's Secret maybe 4 times, all more than a year ago. I've watched Letting Go about 30 times. It's my comfort ep. Any time I can't sleep I break it out.)

Letting Go is almost entirely about Fraser dealing with his feelings about women. There is the whole Victoria flashback in the teaser, which is just enough Victoria's Secret for me. (Including the IMO hilariously transposed bits of dialogue "She had the most beautiful voice" followed with an edit of Victoria, in her horrid nasal shriek "COME WITH ME!" Ugh, beautiful voice?) But there you have it in the teaser, a capsule of Fraser's feelings for Victoria, idealized, unattainable, fantasy figure he feels he's known forever, who in reality is a force of destruction and pain. And Bob's voice saying "she's not coming back to you. Why in god's name would you *want* her to?" And the kicker hallucination, minutes after she causes him to be shot, and runs away, Victoria leaning over him, telling him "He'll be fine, won't you Ben?" She's hurt him but good, but yeah, he's going to be fine. I always interpret all the voices in the flashback as his own mind, sorting through his conflicted feelings. And even then, there is a part of him sorting through the confused loss, and telling himself that he will get better.

It's worth noting IMO, that when we see Ray Vecchio in the first post shooting scene, he's being counseled by a stern matronly shrink who is never seen on camera. This seems to be a parallel set up that women are stepping in to care for both Fraser and Ray in the aftermath.

I have always loved the whole Rear Window homage of Letting Go, which is probably one of the many reasons I love this ep so. Jill Kennedy is certainly supposed to remind us of Grace Kelly's character, Lisa, in Rear Window, as a tough, poised, beautiful, and practical woman who isn't above a bit of well placed affectionate flirtation to get her way with men. In Rear Window, Lisa is already known to the hero, Jeff, and the situation is quite different. In Letting Go, there does have to be more set up to get Jill into Fraser's sphere, including watching her teach the exercise class, and mulling about the ethical implications of watching her (and all the other women in the various windows) aloud with Dief. "I am not actually prying.... ---- Oh."

Before we actually even get to see Jill Kennedy, we once again see Fraser's continuing pain in his fantasies of Victoria when he first sees Dr. Carter and her lover. It's also painful to watch him being so angry and sarcastic with Ray in their first scene together. Fraser is still in a very bad way 21 days after his shooting when he first meets Jill.

I'm going to skip over talking about Fraser's grandmother for now, though we also see her (though Fraser does not) before he meets Jill.

I think what I first liked about Jill Kennedy, from the first scene is that she is obviously not blind to Fraser's prettiness and vulnerability, but she's not a shark. She's downright mellow compared to other women in Season 1. She's protective and almost sisterly from the first. There is some flirtation and minor sexual tension, but she seems mostly just trying to look out for him and raise his spirits. Fraser is deflecting her from the first with his "deductions" about her, while she is very gently trying to charm her way through his physical exam, despite his squirming and obvious embarrassment, making deductions right back about him, and surprising him into disclosing a lot about himself. She's not afraid to press him a bit, but she seems gentle with him in a way most women haven't been in other eps. When other women have had to care for him physically, they seem so obviously to relish touching him, and tend to flirt and glom on him more obviously. She's cheerful a la Grace Kelly, and she's keeping her professional face mostly on, while trying to poke him out of his gloom.

I find the sequences of his therapy oddly sweet. It's not just my soft spot for h/c stories. It's the fact that it is a woman nurturing him, and caring for him in the aftermath of being nearly destroyed by a woman. There's a whole lot of other bluster going on in the pool scene, but there is the moment when Fraser's fatigue overtakes him, and she holds his head above water, and lets him rest. She does flirt with him a little later in the scene, but it is the image of her just giving him a break, and holding him up and Fraser having no choice but to let go, to rest for a moment, and trust the hands of a woman...it just touches me.

Jill's interest in the whole spying on Dr. Carter is a device to prod along the Rear Window plot, and the wacky drive to find out what is going on is a nod to the characters in Rear Window who conspire to spy, including Lisa/Grace Kelly. But even taken as a straight story, I feel like chatting with him about it is an attempt to distract him from his depression.

As Ray Vecchio says when she continues to prod for evidence, I like her, she puts her cards on the table. Why yes, the plot is pretty tortured by this point, but I like her enthusiasm and doggedness as an antidote to Fraser's gloom and self doubt and worry that somehow history is going to repeat itself and someone will be hurt or killed. She's active and she's gutsy, in a 1950s movie sort of way, and she stirs him into caring again, to staying on it and Solving the Damned Crime.

I think having a substitute buddy in Jill to provoke him and cheer him when he's so alienated from Ray is what allows him to get over things enough to be honest with Ray, to finally admit he was going to go with Victoria, and later to admit he had been angry and to forgive him. She breaks his isolation. After all that, and after he admits to Ray that he was going to go with her, he stays at the window thinking, and after it is dark, he finally sees the reflection of his grandmother, the nurturing woman in his past. They exchange such a look of love and tenderness that it slays me every time. She nods at him, and I think that is the first moment he knows he will be OK some day. (This is at 37:15 or so, for those of you who have said they always miss this moment.)

And Dr. Carter? I guess she's supposed to be the prod that makes Fraser confront his whole package of feelings of helplessness and betrayal. I've wondered a little at the line about her reaction to betrayal, when he says that she tried to destroy herself. Just how did Fraser get shot? I think Fraser does see it as self destruction, and by the point he confronts Dr. Carter, I think he's realized it, and has had enough. I don't think that trying to disarm Dr. Carter was an act of self destruction. I think he believed she would not shoot. YMMV.

So that's my take on the women in Letting Go.