Notes: This has been kind of bouncing around in my head for a while. Then Lex asked the question about which episodes were most likely to result in Fraser and Kowalski having sex shortly after the events of the story. *Then* she offered the pseudo-Challenge of writing a post-ep sex story for each F/K episode. Here's one of my answers to that Challenge.
Disclaimers, et al.: Alliance thinks it owns them. Alliance can keep right on thinking that. I doubt you'll find any plot here, and shocker of shockers...it's rated NC-17 for boy/boy stuff and language. The episode is I Coulda Been a Defendant, so...some minor spoilers for that and for Eclipse and Burning Down the House, apply. Kasha and Viridian -- the sleeping bag reference is for you.
Feedback is muchly wanted and will be greedily slurped at LaToot@aol.com.
I'm sittin' at my desk, wrestlin' with a bottle of White-Out, tryin' to finish up my report on this Spender thing. I could leave it 'til Monday easy, but if I do that, then I have to think about it Monday, and anything that means I don't have to think about Kevin Spender again is a good thing.
Hypocritical, smug, arrogant, pretentious son-of-a-bitch. I should've known he had somethin' to do with it from the beginning. Breezin' in like he owns the place, givin' Welsh grief about keepin' his brother under arrest when none of it would've happened if he hadn't told Bruce not to mention the Witness Protection thing. Gettin' in my face for just doin' my fuckin' job.
The thing of it is, he didn't really get to me 'til he got in *Fraser's* face. For some reason, *that* bugged me. *Really* bugged me. I think it bugged Welsh, too. No, Spender couldn't just look at Fraser like most people do, sorta like they can't tell if he's a really talkative doorman or circus performer. No, Spender's gotta get all pissy and snotty with him. Treatin' Fraser like he's a freak or somethin'. I mean, Fraser...*is* a freak, but...lyin', back-stabbin' I wanna-kill-my-own-*brother* Kevin Spender doesn't get to think so.
I gotta get a grip on this Fraser thing. I'm thinkin' about him way too much. I mean, I've known the guy for what, a month, maybe a little more, and...I think abut him. A lot. And not just "he's my new partner and he's weird but cool" thinkin' either. Not just "I wonder if he thinks I'm as good a cop as Vecchio," or "does he like playin' pool" thinkin'.
No. Not that...simple. Not that...easy. Wish it were. Wish I did just think that was enough, wantin' to get to know him. Wantin' to figure out what he thinks of me. But it's not enough, see? I keep thinkin' I don't just want to get to know him. I want to do more than...know him.
Get a fuckin' HOLD, Kowalski. He's your *partner*. You can't *do* your partner. That's not smart. Not right. Not...
I want him.
There it is, and there's nothing I can do about feelin' this way. I can't turn it off any more than I can make myself stop lovin' Stella.
I want Fraser.
I don't even know why, I just know I do. Since that day in the crypt. Fraser just...standin' there. Lookin' at me with those deep, sweet eyes. Not just lookin' at me, though. Lookin'...through me somehow. Through me and into me. I can't explain it, but it was the first time in a long time that I felt like someone was lookin' at me, and really seein' me. And he was so...beautiful.
It was kind of funny, actually because it was so different from that first day, where he spent most of his time lookin' at me like *I* was the freak. Skeptical, confused, sneaky. He was all those things that day, and he kept lookin' at me like I'm the crazy one, even though all he had to do was ask. Say he hadn't had it explained to him. He was beautiful that day, too, but not like he was in the crypt. Not like I could get near him, touch him. Not like he wanted to touch me.
But that day in the crypt...oh, man. For one stupid, insane minute, right after he told me he'd be proud to be my friend, I wanted to kiss him. Hard. And the way he'd been lookin' at me all day, I thought maybe. Maybe.
I just can't ...tell. There's a part of me that thinks that I could just grab Fraser's head, hold him still and kiss him like there's no tomorrow, and he'd kiss me like that right back. The other part of me thinks he'd just back away slowly, and keep backin' up 'til he was in Canada again.
Of course, I don't just wanna kiss Fraser. I don't wanna just put my hands on his head. I wanna know if that skin's as soft as it looks, if the rest of him's as pretty as that face. I wanna know what Fraser looks like when he comes.
I bet I'm imaginin' it, in fact, I'm *sure* my head's makin' it up, but sometimes, sometimes...I think he's just as curious about me. Sometimes, it feels like he's wonderin' what I'd do if he kissed me. I catch him lookin' when he thinks I'm not payin' attention, and somethin' about the look is familiar, like I know it. Like it's mine.
I like it when he touches me. He...doesn't do it a lot, and from what I can tell, he doesn't touch anybody hardly at all, so when he touches me it's...special. It probably shouldn't be and I probably shouldn't take it that way, but I can't help it. Havin' Fraser's hands on me is a good thing, a very good thing.
Like this mornin'. I mean, my cell phone's ringin', I have no idea where it is, I'm wrapped up in the sleepin' bag from hell, and Fraser's pattin' me down *everywhere*. Right, Fraser, like I keep my cell phone in my crotch, next to my half-there mornin' hard-on.
It felt good. He could've kept doin' it, roamin' his hands all over me. I...would've liked that.
I gotta get him outta my head...
I look up because it dawns on me that it's probably the fourth or fifth time he's said my name. Fraser, that is. He's standin' next to my desk, and he's got this look on his face like he's almost impatient, but not quite. Sorta pinched.
He's outta that uniform of his. What'd he call it, sage? No, that's not it. Serge. Red serge. He's not in that serge thing any more. He's wearin' regular clothes and he looks...good. So good. Can really do somethin' with a pair of jeans, Fraser can, that's for sure. He's still got that pinched look on his face, though, so even more time must've passed since the last "Ray" and me lookin' up at him. Oh. Talkin' would probably be good here.
"Hey, Fraser. What's up?"
He looks kinda confused by that question for a second or two, then blinks a little and shakes it off. "I came to see you. I assumed you'd be here. I overheard you telling Leftenant Welsh that you'd have your report finished tonight so that it would be ready for his and the Department of Justice's review Monday morning."
I did say that, but Fraser was halfway across the bar talkin' to Elaine when I did. He really does have Bionic hearing.
"Yeah, well, I don't wanna haveta think about it this weekend, and I got a pile of other cases that'll need my attention come Monday, so...I figured it was better to just do it and get it outta the way. That explains why *I'm* here. Why are you?"
Fraser looks...I'm not sure about this, but he looks kinda nervous, all of a sudden. Sorta like he's about to say somethin' he thinks I might not wanna hear. Nervous looks...sexy on that face. I'm really curious now, and I give him my full attention, which only makes him look more nervous, and more sexy.
"Ah, well. Ray. I...I wanted to see you because I wanted to...ah, give you this."
I hadn't even noticed it until he said it, but Fraser has a small white box in his hands, and he holds it out to me. I take it, look up at him again, and he...shifts. From one foot to the other. He really *is* nervous, and I realize it's because he's worried about what I'm gonna think of what's in the box. Fraser cares about what I think. Hmmm.
I can be a meanie sometimes, but I...can't help it, I like that look on his face. It's...unguarded and honest, like the Mountie mask got stored away with the serge for the night, and I wanna drag it out as long as I can before Fraser figures out that he looks like a regular person - a drop-dead gorgeous regular person, but a regular person - and not Superman.
I hold the box for a couple of seconds, shake it next to my ear, hold it for a few more seconds, actin' like I'm trying to figure out what it is before I open it. Fraser shifts again, but he's too damn polite to prod me into openin' it sooner rather than later. Finally, when it looks like he's started chewin' on the inside of his lip, I take pity and open it up.
One of those dumb layers of gauzy, cotton stuff's on top, and I wait about five seconds before pullin' it up, sneak a glance at Fraser to see if he's still chewin'. Then, I'm done playin' for real and look back down at the box.
A merit badge. A real one. Like the badges people get in...Boy Scouts. For a minute, I...don't get it. And, then I do. I *told* him I wanted one for sleepin' on the floor. I was jokin', of course, but he said he'd get me one, and damn, if he didn't do just that. And I can't help but smile as I look up at him.
Fraser smiles back, and...if I thought he looked sexy when he was nervous, well. God, he's...radiant right now, those pretty, pretty eyes just *shining* as his smile turns into a laugh at the same time mine does.
"As requested and earned, Ray. One "tuck-in-on-the-floor-I-hurt-my-back" merit badge." He pauses, and a little of the nervousness creeps into that beautiful smile. "Do you like it?"
//Of *course* I like it Fraser. It's...silly and funny and cool and...*nice*. It was a nice, sweet thing to do.// I think all these things, but don't think sayin' any of 'em's gonna make that nervousness go away, so, all I say is,
"Yeah, Fraser, I do. I really do."
He looks relieved and the nervousness is gone. The smile dims, just a little bit, but doesn't go away. I like this smile. I could get very used to it. And I know, I just *know* that whatever happens after be damned, I'm gonna kiss him. I wanna kiss him. The worst thing that can happen is...he won't kiss back and I'll stop and we'll be awkward with each other for a few days, but we won't bring it up, and eventually it'll be like it never happened.
Of course...they're a lot of best things that could happen. But best or worst, there's only one way to know for sure.
I can't do it here in the bullpen, I mean Dwight's sweepin' the floor and doin' it at a pace even *I* know is glacial. What to do, what to do? I look at my desk, then it hits me.
"I need another bottle of White-Out. A blow torch wouldn't get this one open. C'mon." I stand up as I say this, and start walkin' in the direction of the supply closet because I know Fraser'll just...follow me. Which he does. "Where'd you find the badge?"
"There's a shop near where my old apartment used to be that has all the accoutrements a modern Boy Scout or Girl Scout leader would need."
Why does it not surprise me that this is the case with Fraser?
We get to the supply closet and no sooner than I get the light on and he gets the door closed than I'm on him. I push him against the door, put my hands on either side of his face and kiss him.
With everything I've got and *then* some.
For a couple of seconds, he doesn't do anything and all I can think is oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit, I've fucked things up *again*, and then...oh...wait a minute....
Something wet flicks against my lips, and because my brain hasn't started takin' the walk I *know* it's gonna take any minute, I realize it's Fraser's tongue, and well, when your beautiful Mountie partner slides his tongue across your lips the only option, really, is to just open 'em on up. Which is what I do and then, *damn*, I've got Fraser's tongue. In. My. Mouth.
Sweet *Jesus*, he can kiss. I mean, *really* kiss. His tongue's *everywhere*. Under mine, then on top of it. Against my teeth, in that space between them and my lips, then...oh, *God* snakin' over the roof of my mouth. I feel *that* even lower down as my cock starts twitchin' and dancin' to life.
His fingers are in my hair, flattenin' the spikes, pressin' against my skull, and yeah, my instincts are *good* if I do say so myself, 'cause I can tell by the way he's started 'rubbin' against me that Fraser's wanted to do this as much as I have. Our legs are sorta scissored somehow, I've got one thigh between his and he's got one thigh between mine, and yeah, we're humpin' each other and *fuck* yeah, it's feels pretty goddamn good.
And then Fraser breaks the kiss and I'm tempted to start complain' until it hits me that he's
Slides to his knees in front of me and I've got my hands against the door to hold myself up and those clever, busy fingers are unbucklin', unbuttonin' and reachin' inside, and yes, yes, yes just like a bunch of other times since college I thank whatever gods listen to me that I do the commando thing.
Fraser's got me in his hands now, and for someone who grew up on a block of ice, his skin's really warm. His touch is light at first, kinda gentle and delicate, like he's just exploring me or somethin' and I look down just as he looks up. Gives me another smile only this one, jeez *this* one has a...*wickedness* to it that makes me catch my breath. Still lookin' up at me like the damn Cheshire Cat, he rubs the pad of his thumb along the underside of my cock, watches me as he kisses the head, licks it, gets it harder.
I can't look away. Even if I wanted to close my eyes, which I don't think I do, I can't. Somethin' about *watchin'* Fraser do this just turns my crank all sorts of ways. Maybe it's that SuperMountie's no where to be found right now. Just a man. A beautiful man who really, really wants me.
Somethin' in the way I'm lookin' at him must tell Fraser I'm ready and...and...he just...swallows me. Whole. In like, one mind-blowin' swoop. *fffffffffuck.* I hear whimperin' and just know it's me, not him, but then he...hums around me and I can't stop myself or warn him and I thrust, kinda hard. But Fraser doesn't stop, just starts *really* bobbin' that dark, pretty head back and forth. One thing Fraser *isn't* is rhythmically challenged.
This is crazyness. Total crazyness. In the station supply closet, gettin' one of the best blow-jobs I've ever had from my straight-arrow, upright, by-the-book Mountie partner. I'm not sure what I thought was gonna happen when I kissed him, but it...wasn't....exactly....this, and oh...*fuck*, Fraser's doin' that hummin' thing again and I actually have to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screamin' out loud. My forehead's pressed against the door, now and I swear to *God*, I'm seeing stars.
I hear myself pantin' as I feel Fraser licking me clean, then...readjustin' me. He moves back up my body, slides perfectly between me and the door, and gives me another deep-sea-divin' kiss. It's...kinda cool to taste myself mixed with the taste of Fraser, and I sigh into his mouth. My mind's wandering back from it's trip to where-ever, and when my pantin' slows enough so that I can talk, I do.
"You're just...full of surprises tonight, aren't you Fraser?" I murmur this into the skin of his neck. He smells good.
I feel him chuckle against my cheek. "You...don't seem to mind, Ray."
"Oh, I don't mind at all. Just commentin' on it. You know, makin' conversation."
"I see." Another chuckle and he tightens his arms around me. He really does smell so good.
"You know, Fraser, I believe that no good deed should go unrewarded." I raise my head then, so I can look into his eyes. I'm...startin' to love those eyes.
He smiles. "That's a good philosophy to have Ray, but if it's not too forward of me to suggest...I think I'd prefer working out the trade somewhere less...public than here."
"Not too forward? Fraser, you just went *down* *on* *me*. Because I kissed you. I'm not sure what could *be* more forward than that."
"True enough, Ray, and your point is well taken. It's just that I think I'd prefer you returning the favor at...your apartment."
"I like how you just assume I'm gonna return the favor."
"It's not an assumption. You just *said* you would."
I can't believe I'm standin' in the station supply closet jokin' with Fraser about sex. "I may have somethin' else in mind for you."
Fraser, speechless. I could also get used to that every once in a while. I kiss him again. Softer this time, lighter, and with, I hope, a hint of promise.
"But, you're right, Benton buddy. We should get outta here."
Fortunately, when I peek out before leaving the supply closet, it looks like we're the last ones left. If Dwight heard anything, he's at least had the decency not to stick around and let us *know* that. Back at my desk, I pick up my new badge. Look at the report, shake my head as I hand Fraser his hat.
"I'll wait with you while you finish that, if you'd like, Ray."
"No, it's okay. I can come in sometime this weekend and finish it up. Actually, I can bring it with me. I mean, I have a typewriter at home. This way, I can get it done and...still have a good weekend."
Fraser smiles at me in a way that tells me he knows I was includin' him in the "good weekend" part. He picks up the report and the file, holds on to them as we walk out of the station.
So. I'm not gonna stop thinkin' about him *now*, that's for sure. We've probably complicated things, but for some reason, I'm not worried about that yet. Not sure that I'm gonna be. Fraser's my partner. And my friend. It's worth it to me to make this thing with him work. To at least try to make it work.
I mean, I can do that. And I chose to.