(no subject)

[exeterlinden]

 

Chapter Two

Fri, Nov 2  Frontier Airlines
Depart: 11:25 am  Chicago, IL (MDW)
Arrive: 1:50 pm  Denver, CO (DEN)
Depart: 3:00 pm  Denver, CO (DEN)
Arrive: 6:15 pm  Calgary, Canada (YYC)

Mon, Nov 5  Frontier Airlines
Depart: 6:00 am  Calgary, Canada (YYC)
Arrive: 7:25 am  Denver, CO (DEN)
Depart: 8:25 am Denver, CO (DEN)
Arrive: 10:45 am Chicago, IL (MDW) 

He’s been employed under Nielsen for three months when he begins to understand why the beautiful surroundings were so heavily stressed during his introduction. Fifty-three reports of petty theft, twelve incidents of assault (mostly traffic-related, although two reports rather curiously stemmed from a clash of cultures between a tourist from Copenhagen and one from Jutland), one incident of breaking and entering and two routine searches for missing hikers who had forgotten to sign themselves out before leaving the park.  

Fraser knows all too well that it is wrong to feel anything but proud and fulfilled about the low crime rate, but it does make it difficult to get back into old routines; and it doesn’t get easier with Dief constantly complaining about being lonely, being bored or missing pizza. Fraser strongly suspects that it isn’t really the pizza that Diefenbaker is missing the most. He has tried to explain to him the concept of projection, but for some reason the wolf finds Freudianism hilarious.

He spends a lot of time reading his travel journals and thinking about the trip: the time they had to put one of the dogs down because of torn paws and Ray spent the rest of the day on skis, his face hidden by scarf and sunglasses. The time a pack of arctic wolves followed the sled for six days and him and Ray couldn’t get any sleep at night because of the dogs howling; the arctic storm, them being holed up in their tent for days, only going out when absolutely necessary because the snow was so thick that you could get lost within meters of the camp. Playing cards at first, before they started rationing the petroleum for the primus; later on talking, lying in their sleeping bags with their breath showing in the cold air; the wall of their luggage between them creating an atmosphere where it felt safe to talk about childhood memories, fears and hopes, Victoria and Stella. 

When Ray calls one Wednesday to ask if he can come up for the weekend, Fraser is surprised and feels that he has to object - it is far too expensive for Ray, Fraser has the weekend shift and McDermott isn’t in town to cover for him - but really,  when Ray insists, he is pleased.

He searches the “programs & services” page on the town of Banff website, hoping for a hockey match or a concert, but there isn’t anything suitable on for the weekend. He wonders whether Ray would enjoy a car trip in the area, has it half planned out before he remembers Ray complaining about car sickness driving on the winding park roads.  

He is aware of an unfamiliar anxiety about Ray’s visit that he puts down to not being properly prepared; to a hunch that Ray’s visit may have some unpleasant motivation or purpose - deduced from their recent conversations over the phone. He wonders aloud if Ray would really go so far as to interfere with Stella’s new marriage, getting no reply from Dief who never did take a strong interest in the hypothetical

Friday he drives straight from work to pick Ray up from the bus station. He greets him, gets his luggage into the back of his car, can’t think of what to say. Ray looks tired. They drive to his place in silence. Dief completely ignores the demure atmosphere and greets Ray with overdue enthusiasm; Ray pats him absently on the head.  

“I went to visit Vecchio and Stella,” Ray says.

“Oh?” Fraser catches himself flinching. He tries to combat an instinctive dislike towards Stella Kowalski, which is rooted in the knowledge of how much she has hurt Ray; that she still has the potential to hurt him, taking up so much space in his universe.  

“Yeah, ‘s weird…” Ray starts, then shakes himself, “Vecchio’s an okay guy, I can see why you like him.”

Fraser pulls his earlobe nervously, he can’t seem to find his feet in this conversation.“He is a good friend to me.”  

“You miss him.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” 

“I miss you more, Ray.”

He thinks for a moment that Ray looks scared at that, but then he is shrugging, turning away. “You got anything to eat around here?” 

They turn in early. Fraser sleeps uneasily, dreams about blizzards. When he wakes up the bedroom door has slid open and he can hear the television playing. He gets dressed listening to Alex Trebek giving answers about lighthouses and state mottoes.

Ray is slumped down in the sofa, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, his chin touching his breast. He is wearing boxers, a borrowed t-shirt and woolen socks. His eyes are firmly fixed on the television, and only stray for a moment when Fraser enters the room. They eat breakfast in silence. On his way out of the door, Fraser hesitates “There’s an art exhibition at the -” Ray turns his head away from the television to look at him, biting the nail on his thumb, clear in his face that there‘s no point in Fraser finishing that sentence. “Ray, I’m sorry, your visit was somewhat unexpected… With more time I could have properly prepared - ”  

“Nah, Frase, forget it.”

“Well, I just want to -”  

“Fraser, it’s okay, go to work, don’t worry about it.” But he can’t help worrying about it, all day during work, finding it very hard to concentrate.

That evening they play poker until Fraser has won two bags of Smarties and three boxes worth of matches off Ray. They watch the news, the sports and a movie about the end of the world. They order a pizza that is too salty and greasy, and Fraser pretends not to notice when Ray passes Dief the crusts under the table. They go to bed at ten o’clock.  

He wakes up in the middle of the night; a glance at his watch tells him it’s three thirty. He lies quietly for a while on his back trying to figure out what woke him, but there’s no sound, nothing untoward. He turns to his side and sees a sliver of light from under the door to the living room, and now that he’s fully awake he detects a faint smell of smoke. He gets up without turning on the light, and opens the door. Seeing him, Ray quickly stubs out a cigarette, waving his hand to disperse the smoke. “Oh shit, sorry Fraser!”

The television is on; a car chase is flickering silently across the screen. Ray is in his boxers, sitting on the sofa; blanket and pillow pushed to one side, the sheet rucked up underneath him. There’s a half-drained beer on the table, an open pack of cigarettes and a saucer filled with butts. “Don’t worry about it, Ray” he says automatically.  

Ray looks embarrassed, awkward, he scratches the back of his neck. “Couldn’t uh, couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Fraser lies. Ray moves over on the couch and he goes to sit down next to him. He wishes now that he had put on his trousers or a shirt; he feels naked only in his boxers and undershirt.  

They watch the movie in silence for a while; the getaway driver gets more and more desperate, looking back at the police cars closing in on him. Ray snorts. Fraser cracks his neck, trying to loosen up tense muscles. "Is something bothering you, Ray?” On the screen the felon loses his grip on the wheel, the car veers over a cliff and explodes into flames soundlessly. Ray reaches out and fingers the cigarette pack, turns it over and over.

“Do you mind if I - ?”  

Normally he would, but he nods. "Go ahead.” Ray smokes like someone with a long time addiction: he flips the cigarette into his mouth, flicks open the lighter and lights it, takes a long deep drag, leans back and exhales through his nose, looking like someone catching his first breath after being underwater. Fraser watches, fascinated.

“Do you ever feel like, if you aren’t around someone…” Ray stops, casts a sidelong glance at Fraser. “Are you… Are you doing alright up here?” 

Fraser thinks about it. "Well, the Rocky Mountains are beautiful. I suppose the work is rather tedious. Dief… let’s just say that he’s been very hard to please, lately. And you?”

Ray picks the cigarette from his lips, looks at it, stubs it out on the saucer. “I don’t know. I don’t want Stella anymore.” 

“Oh.” There is an obvious question that he doesn’t know if he should ask. He feels it linger between them. The movie comes to an end. Ray’s knee is pale and bony in his peripheral vision.

Interlude: Canada

Ray doesn’t call him. Maggie sends him a letter inviting him over for Christmas. He waits until the fourteenth of December before calling Ray at the precinct. He doesn’t know quite what to say and suddenly realises how much he has been relying on Ray to take initiative in their interactions. “How are you Ray?”  

“I’m good, Fraser.” Fraser presses the phone closer to his ear; McDermott passes by his desk with a stack of papers in his hands. He realises that he should have made this call from his home phone. He waits until McDermott has shut the door behind him.

“Ray, do you have plans for Christmas?” On the other end of the line the silence stretches out.  He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans forward in his seat. When he looks up Constable McDermott is standing in front of him, looking at him questioningly. He waves him on, signaling that everything’s okay. He misses the first of part of what Ray is saying, his voice is low and intense, hard to separate from the general background noise of the bullpen.  

“… can’t, Fraser. Besides, what would that look like, huh? You and me, spending Christmas together?” 

His fingers are sweating around the black plastic phone, “I don’t know, Ray.”

“No, you don’t.” Ray’s voice isn’t unkind.

McDermott walks by again, this time with a new stack of files in his hands. Fraser says goodbye to Ray and puts the phone gently in its cradle before pushing off the desk, pushing a few papers onto the floor. He walks through the room and down the hallway; he opens the door to his right and crosses through the storage room, flings open the back door; takes a few steps and then just stands there in the snow. He breathes in deeply and lets the cool air tickle his throat. He looks up at the sky. He only allows himself a couple of minutes, then he roughly runs his hand across his face and goes back inside to finish the rapport on the state of the Hoodoo Creek trail which he inspected last week. 

He writes Maggie a letter thanking her, but politely declining her invitation. For Christmas, he plans out a three day hiking trip along the Skoki trail. He has to remind Dief that he is a canine and as such, traversing the wild should come more natural to him than lying on the couch or eating turkey and apple pie.

They start out at the Fish Creek trail head and make good time reaching Boulder Pass. The snow is deep: above boot level - but loose and powdery, no crust. They stop at the highest point of the pass, to catch their breath and enjoy the view of the pine forest beneath them and the rugged peaks to their right, their eastside thickly snow-covered due to a strong westerly wind.  

They descend carefully, the mountainside is strewn with rocks and the snow makes the trail impossible to discern. They find the trail again further down and follow it around Ptarmigan Lake, which is covered with a thin, glasslike sheet of ice. A small pack of wolves eye them suspiciously from the other side of the lake, unused to people passing through at this time of year. Dief slinks along close to Fraser’s leg. He has always suffered from a slight inferiority complex towards his wild kin because of his mixed breed and the fact that a dog’s brain is considerably smaller than a wolf‘s.

They reach Baker Lake after seven hours, while the sun is descending. Fraser makes camp, stamps down the snow and pitches the tent - the arctic one that him and Ray used on the expedition. There is plenty of firewood close by: the trail has been deserted for at least a couple of months and a strong November storm has shaken the dead boughs from the trees.  

He sits by the fire for a while, to make sure that it’s catching. He thinks about Ray on that first night out in the wild, how exhausted he was, how he nearly died from hypothermia. He thinks of how much he changed during the trip, how strong and sure he got. He feels sad, but can’t think of the reason why. He finds his backpack and gets out a bag of freeze dried stew, but changes his mind and gets out a can of chili con carne instead, and a container of ready made dough.

He eats it looking out at the lake, his mind still working, turning over the events - and then he suddenly gets it. He lets out a surprised sound that expands and reverberates in the silence. Dief sighs and puts his head on his front paws.

Chapter Three  

Fri, Dec 22  US Airways 
Depart:  5:00am  Chicago, IL (ORD)
Arrive:  7:41am  Phoenix, AZ (PHX)
Depart:  8:32am  Phoenix, AZ (PHX)
Arrive:  9:19am  Tucson, AZ (TUS)  

Tue, Dec 26, US Airways
Depart:  10:10 am, Tucson, AZ (TUS),
Arrive:  10:27 am, Las Vegas, NV (LAS)
Depart:  11:28 pm, Las Vegas, NV (LAS)
Arrive:  4:49 pm  Chicago, IL (ORD)

So Christmas sucks. He spends way too much money on a plane ticket to Arizona, spends two days repairing an old Buick and dodging his dad’s attempts to make him talk about his feelings. He gets two shirts, tube socks and a video about Oldsmobiles from his parents, a card for all of them from Stella with the return address reading “Stella Vecchio“. He develops a rash on his cheek from all his mom’s lipstick kisses and starts going back to old habits, like whining for desert and lying to his parents to cover up for stuff. He sweats in the dry desert heat, having packed all wrong; and then it‘s time to go home.

For the sake of sparing his wallet - starved out by his trips north - he’d chosen the cheapest airline to Arizona and back. One of those that doesn’t serve any food except a small bag of Goldfish, and that’s only to trick you into buying their tiny, overpriced cans of coke. So he’s starving making his way back from O‘Hare, maneuvering the rush hour traffic and trying to remember what he’s got in his freezer, in the cupboards, did he eat that last frozen pizza?

He takes the stairs in long strides, lugging his duffel bag and fumbling for his mobile to call Sandor for pizza, with sausages, maybe get some bacon on there as well. He turns the corner and Fraser scrambles to his feet from where he was sitting outside Ray’s door. Dief’s next to him, wagging his tail, looking smug.

Fraser’s killing the brim of the Stetson, squeezing it tightly in his hands. Ray puts the mobile back in his pocket. “What do you want, Ray?” Fraser looks maybe a little uncertain if he wants the answer.

Okay, so apparently they’re skipping preliminary rounds, but he is not having this conversation in the hallway. He unlocks his door and steps inside. Fraser follows close behind and Dief slips between them, headed straight for his favorite corner. He drops his bag on the floor; turns around to ask a question, and turns into Fraser who is right up in his personal space.

Ray feels a hot flush of adrenaline all through his body, because maybe Fraser already knows the answer to that question, maybe he’s come down here to tell Ray to fuck off kindly, but then why -? Fraser takes a deep breath, places big damp hands on each side of Ray’s head, and kisses him.

Their noses bump and their teeth clink, and really it’s a pretty lousy kiss, but all of a sudden Ray is getting short of breath and getting hard, and this is what he wants, but it also freaks him the fuck out. It takes him a couple of kisses to get from oh wow weird, to oh wow full stop, and then he’s grabbing Fraser, feeling his long flat muscles flex under the palm of his hand.

No wonder it took him so long to figure this out, because he’s never tried anything that prepared him for this, for wanting this: Fraser strong and big against him, needy, strong-smelling, hard against Ray’s hip.

They make it to the couch and Ray’s scrambling to get comfortable, fumbling at Fraser’s clothing to undo buttons - nearly impossible because Fraser doesn’t keep still, keeps running his hands over Ray’s body, running his hand over Ray’s straining erection.

Ray can hardly recognize him - this is the guy who likes museums and thanks you kindly, except suddenly he remembers Fraser shouting at the dogs to break up a fight, Fraser on skis running beside the sled sure and swift; Fraser pale and naked outside in the early dawn, washing himself with handfuls of snow; and hey, he knows this guy, he loves this guy. He turns his head up to kiss Fraser’s chin and Fraser turns into it, latching onto his mouth while Ray snakes a hand inside his half-opened pants and starts jerking him off.

When he feels Fraser coming against the skin of his wrist he is so buzzed, he thinks he is going to come in his pants. But Fraser makes him wait for it. Fraser opens his pants button by button, runs his fingers lightly across the damp fabric of his boxers, runs his hands down to cup his balls. “Christ, god damnit,” Fraser looks up at Ray‘s face, and keeps looking while he strokes him, until Ray has to squeeze his eyes shut. He comes so hard he feels like he’s going to choke.

He gets his breath back slowly, keeping his eyes closed, trying not to think about how they’re two forty-year-old cops lying on a couch with come on their clothes, or what Fraser is doing here, what they think they’re doing.

Fraser, lying next to him with his face pressed against his neck, must have been thinking about it, too. “I want to come back to Chicago.” His breath is hot and moist against Ray's skin.

“No, you don‘t.”

Fraser sighs and pulls away, stands up.” In fact, I do, Ray.” Ray opens his eyes and sits up, buttoning his jeans.  

“No you don’t - you love Canada - the Rocky Mountains and the wildlife and wide open spaces and -”

“ …Tourists and constantly posing for photos and mediating fights over scratched bumpers.” He glances up at Fraser who is pushing his shirt into his jeans with quick efficient movements.  

“Okay, so maybe not that, but at least there’s no gangs or hookers or drugs or -”

“… Actual police work or dim sum, or you, Ray.”

That shuts him up, and he can’t think of why he was arguing in the first place. He feels jittery and happy, and maybe a little nauseous. This is not like anything he’s ever done before, he has no idea what this is or how it’s going to work, but Fraser pulls him to his feet and kisses him sweetly, and Ray figures it's going to be an adventure.

 

 

Fin

Comments

[malnpudl.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is just lovely! I like the way you've written the emotion around the edges, and the slow uneasy journey they take toward each other -- two steps forward, one step back. The dinner with Vecchio and Stella was particularly well done; it tugged my heartstrings so hard they twanged.

Terrific story.

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I read a post somewhere, quite a while ago, about subtext in slash stories - and it really hit home for me: what I like best in slash stories is also what I like best in shows I want to slash, the looks and hints and touches and unspoken emotions, and all that good stuff *g*

I'm really happy you liked this.

[revbiscuit.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed this. I agree with Mal about the emotional journey, and one of the things that appealed to me was how real the whole thing felt. By that I mean a lot of the times situations and characters are a bit exaggerated, which is all good drama and everything, but I think it's actually more of a challenge to come up with a story that feels so much like RL. LOL! Normal for dS, at least.

I liked the way RayV was sort of cautious around RayK at first, that's what I mean about the situations feeling real. Who wouldn't behave like that, that has just returned to an old workplace *and* with all the baggage they are all carrying? And then RayK is sort of relieved when RayV goes back to his normal self, which makes you feel they are slowly starting to function normally around each other because they can be more like themselves. I think these things are infinitely harder to portray than the good old fight with papers flying everywhere.

I really felt for them when Fraser was trying to make plans for xmas. Both of them know what he's doing, but they can't quite make the leap and say it out loud. Ouch.

“… can’t, Fraser. Besides, what would that look like, huh? You and me, spending Christmas together?”

His fingers are sweating around the black plastic phone, “I don’t know, Ray.”

“No, you don’t.” Ray’s voice isn’t unkind.

Oh yes you do...And then he knocks papers off the desk. And doesn't pick them up? That's what finally convinced me he's in love, you know ;-)

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm so happy you liked it. I do love Vecchio and Stella dearly, so I wanted to include them somehow, but I didn't want it to be too easy, because as you said, it wouldn't be. I was a little worried if that part of the story would work out, so I'm thrilled that you thought it did!

And poor Fraser, so bad at reaching out, I know *g*

[sam80853.livejournal.com]

Awwwww, this absolutely beautiful!

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much :)

[c-regalis.livejournal.com]

Oh, yay. This is the first DS story I've read in quite some time and it's beautiful. Thank you!

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I hope I helped to lure you back in *g*

[aftertherain.livejournal.com]

I don't know why I didn't comment on this story the first time I read it (I'm guessing it was because I had either just requested or received the CotW dvd from you, and felt like a freak for commenting so much. By the way, thanks again for the DVD. It's snuggling happily with the others in my dS collection.) Anyway, I was going through my bookmarks tonight, re-read this story and was blown away once again. I hope you don't mind late comments.

This is such a gorgeous piece of writing. Your way with words--how do you do that?? It's spare and beautiful at the same time; not a word wasted, you've captured the push-and-pull, the longing between Ray and Ben and eventually their realization(s), and distilled everything down to its essence. Kind of like the two of them after the Adventure. Even the quiet parts are full of meaning.

There are a bunch of post-CotW stories that I love, and this has somehow wormed its way into my heart and staked out its spot in my all-time favorites.

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you so much! I don't mind late comments at all, especially not when they're as lovely as this one. I am so happy that you like the story! (and that the CotW-dvd found a good, loving home *g*).

[spuffyduds.livejournal.com]

Goodness, how had I not run across this before? (Just got recced on crack van.) It's lovely, and Ray bolting his dinner at Vecchio-and-Stella's was a PERFECT detail, and I love how QUIET the fic is, everyone coming slowly and thoughtfully to conclusions. Wonderful.

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for commenting! I didn't know I'd been recced and coming back to new comments was a wonderful surprise. I'm still really happy about this story, and I am thrilled that you enjoyed it :)

[captanddeastar.livejournal.com]

This is great - there are so many stories out there where Ray comes back to Chicago and realizes he doesn't like it there anymore and packs up and heads for Canada - those are great, too, but it's nice to read one where it's the other way around. After all, as you show in this story so beautifully, Ray has a lot of other important relationships in his life, with his parents, with Stella, and without them, he wouldn't be the complete Ray.

Thank you for sharing!

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Yes, part of the DS fandom's awesomeness is the wonderful and complex relationships between the characters. I loved writing about Ray and Stella and Vecchio, and about Ray's parents, and I'm really happy that you enjoyed reading it :)

[betzz.livejournal.com]

The second part was even better than the first. Great, great work.

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for commenting! It is very much appreciated.

[goddessdster.livejournal.com]

Here via crack_van. This is full of awesome! I love the way you left things just kind of buzzing in the background, unspoken, no need to declare everyone's thoughts outright. Amazing. The quick, hot, dirty sex didn't hurt, either. :) Love it.

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

The quick, hot, dirty sex didn't hurt, either. :)

Heeh! Can't tell you how much it pleases me to hear that - I am pretty insecure about my smut, you see :)

Thank you so much for commenting!

[xela-fic.livejournal.com]

Oh, BOYS! I love that Fraser came back to Chicago :) So great!

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it :D

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's just lovely! Ridiculous boys being ridiculous. ♥

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Heh, thank you. Yeah, that communication thing isn't working out so well for them in this story - until the end, at least :)

Thank you for commenting!

[beadattitude.livejournal.com]

Oh, now this? This is a perfect example of "show, don't tell." I love how you eased them into it, all fits and starts and not knowing exactly what they're doing. Gorgeous.

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

I did enjoy messing with them a little on the way to happiness :) I'm so happy you liked it, and thank you for taking the time to tell me!

[akuni.livejournal.com]

Oh this is great. It's a nice slow journey, and it's not smooth sailing, they have to work for it. You wove the other characters into the story so subtly; I was especially impressed with this take on Stella and RayV.

+mem Thank you. :)

[exeterlinden.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for commenting! I'm really happy you enjoyed the story, and my take on Stella and Vecchio - I just want them to live happily ever after, forever and ever :)