Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Alliance
Communications. This story is a parody of due South characters and as
such is protected under copyright law. If anyone at Alliance wants to
argue in court that the characters were portrayed deliberately as a couple
in the show, then by all means sue me.

Author's Notes:
This was never meant to stand on its own; it's part of a [much!] larger
story I've been working on. Most of what's here was originally posted
to the serge list in apology for an off-topic post. Between the feedback
I've gotten - thanks everyone! - and the recent observations that there
aren't as many F/K stories on the archive as there should be, I decided
I ought to whip it into shape and upload it.

The story takes place post-CotW, during the search for Franklin's hand.
For those who don't know, in the Canadian arctic, the ground is almost
universally covered in gravel, or gravel with snow on top of it.

*asterisks* indicate emphasis; /slashes/ indicate thoughts

M/M - Rated PG-13 for adult situation.

I apologise for the title - it's all Bear's fault for egging me on. 

SLEEPLESS ON THE GRAVEL

by Jack - comments to felizia@netzero.net

Ray couldn't sleep; he'd gotten used to the near-constant daylight enough
that it didn't normally keep him up, but as he lay alert in the tent,
staring at the brightly-backlit canvas, it wasn't helping either. Fraser
was cuddled close against him in the bag, sound asleep. /Like a log/,
he thought to himself. He'd considered a couple of times already that
sex might tire him out, or at least relax him, enough that he'd be able
to sleep, too, and the idea presented itself again as he watched Ben's
chest rise and fall evenly. Trailing his fingers up his lover's side,
he petted the thick hair that was tousled over his forehead, the tips
of his ears, even down the nape of his neck. /He really needs a haircut/.
But despite the always-delightful feel of Fraser's body against his own,
he wasn't feeling rampantly or even particularly horny, and he just
couldn't
bring himself to wake him. Finally, he decided to go for a brief walk,
hoping that might help.

Carefully sliding out of the sleeping bag, Ray quickly wriggled into
pants, sweater and jacket, doing his best to keep quiet. He zipped open
the flap just enough to slip through into the vestibule before closing
it up behind him, leery of letting enough of a draft in to wake Fraser.
Once his boots were on, he stuck his feet out onto the gravel and then
followed them, coming to his feet beside the tent and then turning to
look past it out over the water.

A fog had risen over the Strait, surrounding the already-surreal shapes
of the weathered ice floes and obscuring the entire horizon, indeed almost
seeming to merge with the translucent cloud cover above. The sun was
visible, though dimmed almost enough to look at directly, casting the
fog-banks with a warm, gold-white light that gleamed in the shallow
wave-troughs
and along the wet edges of the icebergs. He just stared for a while,
he'd no idea how long. Tension drained out of him unnoticed. 

Some time after he'd settled into a completely relaxed posture, a small
movement glimpsed out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.
His eyes flicked. It was a single clump of light, powdery snow, drifting
slowly down towards the beach, spiralling like an autumn leaf. A grin
he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried broke out on his face; he scanned
the sky for another flake. None were visible, and he was on the very
verge of going back to enjoying the pristine view, when another wafted
down, and another; and another; and then the sky was filled with lazily
spinning motes of snow. 

"Fraser!" he yelled joyously, forgetting in his excitement that his
partner
was still asleep. "Fraser, you gotta come out here!" 

There was a brief commotion from inside the tent, then Ben was breathless
beside him, asking before he even got to his feet, "What is it, what's
wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong," Ray answered, holding out his hand but not turning.
"Just... look," he said, gesturing with the hand that wasn't occupied
helping Fraser to stand up.

"What, Ray?" he asked, confused, still sleep-dazed.

Ray turned his head, his face glowing in the odd light and beaming with
a huge smile. "It's so beautiful," he replied simply, gesturing again.

And Fraser looked; and it *was* beautiful, the snow drifting slowly down
like a minute ballet, the midnight sun bathing the opaqueness of mist
and stone, the gleaming clarity of sea and ice. He tightened his grip
on Ray's hand, that neither of them had thought to release. Then he was
turning and taking Ray in his arms, finding his chilled lips and warm
mouth, kissing him until they were both breathing hard.

A satisfied "Mmm..." was all Ray could articulate as the kiss finally
ended. Their mouths were wet from it, and bits of snow were stuck to
their hair and shoulders. One of Ben's hands came up from Ray's back
to brush some away; the flakes melted at the contact with his skin.

"You really aren't unhappy here," he said softly, looking into Ray's
sparkling eyes. It wasn't quite a question.

The slight upturn of Ray's lips stretched into a real grin. "I told you...
I mean, I never thought I'd be able to do this stuff, when we first got
here. I wasn't ready for it. Y'know, the cold, the weird gear, the
constant
threat of death. But," he shrugged, still in Fraser's embrace, "we got
over all that. An' I *do* see why you love it here."

"I do," Ben agreed. There was nevertheless a faint crease running up
his forehead. 

"An' it *ain't* just 'cause of you," Ray reiterated preemptively. Reaching
up, he smoothed that line out of his partner's brow, then ran his fingers
into the thick brown hair, knocking loose little clumps of snow. "But
it would sure be awful lonely here without you."

A smile grew on Ben's face to match his. "Yes, it would," he agreed,
tightening his arms around Ray and kissing him again, lightly. 

"Mmm," Ray repeated. "Hey, Ben," he said, his voice dropping.

"Yes, Ray?"

Two blonde eyebrows rose. "Let's go back in the tent."

"Well, Ray, despite the snow, it's not really all that cold out here...
and now that I'm up, I don't think I could fall back asleep."

Ray's grin widened. "So who said aything about sleep?"

The End... Questions, comments, corrections, and/or *constructive*
criticism
welcomed at felizia@netzero.net