rubberbutton | fic: Treatise on the Mating Habits of Bison

Title: Treatise on the Mating Habits of Bison
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG 13, language
Words: 3,000
Summary: Ray and Fraser check out a gangland meeting that isn’t what it seems. Super-big thanks to

ignazwisdom for the beta, you rock!

Ray’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel, beating out his irritation in a galloping tattoo. The car was parked in an alley, kitty-corner to the back entrance of the old Patterson Hotel. They’d been holed up here for the past three hours.

“He’s not coming.”

“You don’t know that, Ray.”

“He’s not coming,” Ray repeated emphatically. “If he was coming, he would have come by now.”

“All the evidence points to this rendezvous occurring regularly for months now,” Fraser reminded him.

“But now he’s not showing up—just our luck, wouldn’t you say?” Ray squirmed in his seat unhappily, unable to pace and unwilling to sit still.

“Do you think he was tipped off?”

“Yeah, Fraser, I find that a distinct possibility.”

“By whom? No one besides us even knows that we’re following him,” Fraser mused.

“Maybe we’re not as fucking clever as we think we are. Maybe he sees our car sitting here and gets suspicious. Or maybe he’s just stopped to pick up his dry-cleaning at ass-o-clock in the morning. I don’t know, Fraser, quit asking so many irritating questions.” Ray’s tone was edgy enough that Fraser refrained from pointing out that it was Ray who’d brought the subject up.

“There,” Fraser said, catching sight of a dark figure rounding the corner. “Ten o’clock.”

“Yours or mine?”

“They’re the same, Ray.”

“Right, right. I see him.” Ray pulled a file from the floor and flipped it open, pulling out a grainy black and white photo taken with a telephoto camera. “That’s him all right. Okay, who are you that Mendoza’d come all the way down here to meet with you himself? Hey, you got the binoculars?” That last was directed at Fraser, who handed them over.

“Here you are, though I have to say they’re probably the same strength lens as your glasses.”

“Shut it, Fraser.”

“Shutting it, Ray.”

The man, coat collar turned up in an ineffectual attempt to keep the wind out, hurried to the dilapidated building. Just as he reached the door, it opened, spilling weak light out into the street. Mendoza had clearly been awaiting him.

“Gotcha now,” Ray muttered in satisfaction.

Mendoza enfolded the man into a tight embrace, dragging him into the shelter of the step. Which quickly developed into a passionate kiss, their arms twining about each other’s necks, pulling each other close.

“They’re kissing,” Ray said in the same tone of disbelief and confusion he might use if they’d started flying.

“It appears so.” Fraser shifted, trying to look away and give the men privacy, but his eyes kept gravitating back. “Crime organizations have their own greeting practices.”

“A kiss on the cheek? Sure. But they don’t normally play tonsil hockey.”

The two men on the street finally parted and disappeared into the building, the door shutting behind them.

“Holy crap,” Ray breathed. “I never would have figured it for Mendoza, you know? He’s such a tough guy.” He fit the key in the ignition and started the car.

“We’re going?” Fraser inquired.

“Unless you like risking losing a finger to frostbite.”

“But we still haven’t finished the assignment. We should continue to wait.”

“Why?” Ray demanded. “It’s just a couple of—” he stumbled, looking for an appropriate word.

“Homosexuals,” Fraser supplied.

“—fucking around. Maybe not exactly smiled upon by the city of Chicago, but not exactly the crime of the century, either.”

“Just because their relationship has a sexual element doesn’t preclude it from having an illegal side as well.”

“It’s a tryst, Fraser, not a strategy session.” Ray looked ready to leave anyway and Fraser wondered if he would have to leap from the moving car in order to finish the assignment, but Ray turned the engine off, sighing heavily.

“Can’t believe this is how I’m spending my Friday night. Other guys have dates or are going out for drinks with their buddies. Me? Stuck out here freezing my balls off and waiting for the criminals to quit playing ass-bandits and start with the actual crime.” Ray sunk down so low in the seat that Fraser doubted he could see over the steering wheel.

Fraser decided that silence was the most diplomatic answer and gazed out the window. Dief had left a noseprint smeared across the glass at some point or another. Fraser produced a handkerchief and rubbed at the spot, making a mental note to speak to Dief about respecting other people’s property.

The cold seemed to muffle the sounds of the city while sharpening the details, the dirty piles of slush that couldn’t rightfully be called snow at the edges of buildings. Everyone who could stayed out of the cold; even the unsavory element weren’t willing to risk hypothermia.

“Why do you think he does it?” Ray asked, interrupting Fraser’s thoughts.

“Well, some people find it enjoyable. Even among the animal kingdom there are individuals in a population who either prefer or occasionally indulge in mating with their own sex. Bison bulls, for example, have been seen—“

“Ahh!” Ray hastily interrupted. “Don’t want to hear about whatever it is bison have been seen doing, Fraser! Uh, I don’t mean the sex bits. That I can understand...well, you know, not understand. But I get it, sorta. In an abstract sort of way.” He pushed himself back up, turning so he could face Fraser. He gesticulated expansively, trying to convey, Fraser supposed, that he understood how motivating erotic desire was, even if he didn’t share that particular desire. “What I mean is, why work out these secret meet-ups? This neighborhood isn’t for lovers.”

“The world they live in still harbors much animosity toward them, Ray. It’s not hard to understand why they’d want to protect themselves from that.”

“But he’s a crime lord, for crying out loud. Anybody complains—,” Ray made a gun with thumb and forefinger, “bang. He can have ‘em whacked.”

“Even crime lords face peer-pressure, Ray.” Fraser looked straight out the windshield. Road salt had left a film of grime over everything; Ray should get the car washed if he didn’t want to risk corroding the chrome. “You don’t know the pressure of living in a world that works on the assumption that you’re unnatural and wrong.”

“Guess I don’t,” Ray agreed and Fraser glanced over. Ray’s eyes looked colorless under the yellow streetlight, chiaroscuro shadows lining his face sharply. “Kinda sounds like you do, though.”

“I was speaking hypothetically.” Fraser quickly directed his attention back out the window.

“Huh.” That was a dangerous huh; it was a huh that generally accompanied one of Ray’s uncanny hunches. “But how would you know what it feels like to be considered unnatural?”

“I do live in a foreign city.”

“Americans think Canadians are weird, not unnatural, Fraser.”

Fraser realized that it would require more dishonesty than he was capable of to get him out of this corner, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess.

“So you’re...?” Ray let the question trail off. And then, taking Fraser’s continued silence as assent, “Wow.” He worked a heel up onto the seat, so he was clasping his knee to his chest. “Just...wow.”

They lapsed into one of the most uncomfortable silences Fraser had ever endured. With difficulty, he cleared his throat. “I apologize.”

“For what? For keeping it from me? Or for telling me now?” Ray asked shrewdly.

“Both, actually. I was hoping to avoid awkwardness between us.”

“Awkward? Who’s awkward? I ain’t awkward. Hell, Fraser, you told me two minutes ago, give a guy a moment to adjust.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“And quit apologizing.”

“Right, I’m sor—“ Fraser caught himself halfway through the word and smiled ruefully. “It’s a habit.”

“It’s a sick compulsion is what it is,” Ray countered. “You shouldn’t have to apologize.”

“On the contrary, a heartfelt apology is the grease by which the wheels of society turn.”

“I meant about being queer.” The word hung in the air between them, stark and undeniable. “No offense,” Ray muttered.

“None taken.”

“It’s just...you coulda told me, is all. We’re partners, right? We gotta be there for each other, gotta trust each other.”

“I do trust you.” Fraser paused as he considered the best way to continue. “I enjoy our friendship. I was reluctant to do anything to put that at risk. You wouldn’t be the first friend who reconsidered when he learned about my inclinations.”

“Sons of bitches,” Ray swore. “Give me their names, I’ll break their fucking kneecaps.”

“Afraid I can’t let you do that,” Fraser smiled grimly. “They’re not worth an assault charge.”

“Says you.”

“Ray.”

“Fine, I won’t go for the knees; I’ll just scare ‘em a bit.”

“I appreciate your anger on my behalf,” Fraser said, his smile was belied by the melancholy in his voice. “But it was a long time ago. Ancient history, I believe you’d call it.”

“So what? Now you just don’t tell anyone? That’s the great plan?”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to talk about something else.”

“Matter of fact, I do mind,” Ray said, growing louder.

“I was being polite.” As his own tone grew more clipped, Fraser wondered if they’d given up all pretense of trying to avoid notice.

“Oh, now there’s a fucking surprise.” To Fraser’s consternation, Ray threw open his door and shouted, “Attention scumbags everywhere: Constable Benton Fraser of the RCM-fucking-P, liaison officer to the Canadian Consulate, is being polite!”

“...And I think we can safely say our cover is blown,” Fraser said, mostly to himself as Ray was still shouting.

“Being polite! Oh God, it’s horrible! He’s polite without warning! To anyone! Men, women, small children—no one is safe!”

“Ray, I’m really beginning to think that you may have become unstable.” Fraser’s alarm grew as Ray got out of the car, a purposeful bounce in his step. Fraser hurriedly got out the car to follow him as his tirade continued.

“He’s so fucking polite that he won’t burden his fucking partner—er, his regular partner, not one who he fucks—with his terrible secret!”

“I must ask you to please be quiet,” Fraser said, surveying the street which was still empty but wouldn’t be for long with a crazy cop screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Did you see that? He was just polite to me!”

“Ray, please.”

Ray just opened his mouth, breathing deeply to start again, but Fraser grabbed him, hauling him backward. Ray stumbled into the hood of the car, slipping on the ice and nearly hitting the pavement, but Fraser caught the front of his coat and pulled him up and steadied him.

“What has gotten into you? Have you completely given leave of your senses?” Fraser tried, feeling helpless in the face of Ray’s deprecating smile. “Why are you so angry?”

Ray’s grin widened. “I don’t even know.” He struggled against Fraser’s grip, but Fraser refused to let go, pushing up against the car harder. “Boy, I sure am fucked up, aren’t I?” He sounded almost proud.

“You’ve had a lot to process this evening, it’s understandable—“ Fraser didn’t get to the end of his sentence; Ray cut it off with a fierce kiss. Fraser, mid-sentence and caught completely off-guard, nearly bit the tongue suddenly invading his mouth. He stepped back but forgot to release his grip on Ray’s coat and so merely pulled Ray along with him.

Ray took advantage of the momentum, pressing himself against Fraser, forcing him back until his retreat was stopped by the brick of the alley wall. He was fumbling with something—his gloves, Fraser realized as he felt Ray’s naked hands close on the sides of his face. His lips were chilled but his tongue was startlingly hot as it ran along Fraser’s teeth, traced his lower lip and pushed back in to flick against his tongue.

For a long minute, Fraser was unable to do anything except endure Ray’s onslaught—couldn’t act, couldn’t think, could hardly even breathe. He recovered enough to use the hands still gripping the front of Ray’s coat and shove, hard. Ray staggered, letting go of Fraser. They faced off, each drawing ragged breath that fogged the air between them.

“Why did you do that?” Fraser said, finally.

Ray shrugged and stepped toward Fraser again, but Fraser held out a hand to stop him.

“Come on, who cares why? You liked it, right? I’m good.”

“You’re certainly enthusiastic,” Fraser allowed. “But I have to wonder what inspires such enthusiasm. You’re not...”

Ray shrugged again, a jerky, almost involuntary gesture. “Nah, don’t think so. But I want you.”

When Fraser’s heart started again, he said, “Ray, that makes no logical sense.”

“Screw logic.” Ray made for Fraser again; Fraser again evaded him.

“Even if that were so, it doesn’t follow that I want you.”

That brought Ray up short, hurt crossed his face, but then his eyes narrowed. “Yes you do. I can see it from the way you always look at me, from the way you’re looking at me now.”

“What you see, Ray, are my eyes glowing with the warmest regard and fraternal affection.”

Ray snorted derisively. “Fraternal affection, my ass.”

“If you feel any of my actions towards you have been untoward...”

“A little untoward action is just what I’m trying to get here, Fraser.” A distinct edge of exasperation was creeping into Ray’s voice.

Fraser stared at him and then turned on his heel and got back in the car. Ray hesitated and, seeing that Fraser wasn’t coming back, circled around to the driver’s side, collecting his abandoned gloves in the process.

“What are you doing?” Ray asked, slamming the door behind him.

“I think you’re right about the nature of this meeting, we can return now; this is clearly a dead-end.”

“So that’s it, huh. We’re back down to business?”

Fraser fastened his seatbelt briskly. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“I dunno. Kiss me, yell at me, sock me in the nose—something!”

“I hardly think physical violence will help the problem.”

“And ignoring it will?” Ray snapped. “Just what is the problem anyway, Fraser? Spell it out for me.”

Fraser took a deep breath, running the pad of his thumb along an eyebrow. “The problem, I’m afraid, is that this revelation seems to have sent you over the edge. And whatever momentary madness motivates you to make overtures now, I’m sure you’ll regret in the sober light of day.” He paused. “I don’t want you to hate me, Ray. I don’t want you to hate yourself.”

“Jesus, Frase.” Ray leaned over and Fraser flinched away, but Ray’s hand just found the glove compartment, rummaged around in it and produced a flask. “Here.”

“We’re on duty.”

“You just said yourself that we can leave.” Ray unscrewed the cap and took a generous swig.

“Even if we’re not on duty, you still have to drive. And as appalling as your driving is now, I can’t imagine being inebriated improves it.”

“Just take the goddamn whiskey.” Ray pressed it into Fraser’s hand and Fraser accepted it, if only to keep Ray from imbibing more. Satisfied, Ray sat back. “Look, sorry about that kiss. I mean, not sorry about the kiss, but I’m sorry it happened like that, you know. I just got caught up in the moment and you’re so fucking beautiful, but I shouldn’t’ve jumped you like that. You deserve candlelight and a string quartet, not some slummy West Side alley, so sorry.”

“Quite all right,” Fraser muttered, still processing Ray’s speech.

“And about your big revelation. It’s actually not so big. I didn’t know, for sure or anything, but I sorta guessed for awhile now. You’d look at me and I’d get this weird feeling and first I thought I was crazy or jumpy from being on this new assignment. Then I’d get to wondering, if just maybe this Fraser guy, you know, wants me. And you do, right?”

Fraser managed a nod so slight it was nearly imperceptible but Ray caught it and the corners of his mouth quirked up.

“But I kept second-guessing myself, thought I was imagining it. Why’d a guy like you, even if he was into guys, be interested in my scrawny ass? I didn’t actually know for certain ‘til tonight. It’s a relief, is what it is, to not have to wonder.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Ray. But that doesn’t explain why you kissed me, when, by your own admission, you’re not gay.”

“Oh, right.” Ray reached for the flask, but Fraser kept it out of reach with a stern look. “When I was wondering about you, I also wondered about me and you. Me with you. It’s not the first time I been attracted to guys. It’s just been awhile since I wanted to really do something about it. For so many years I was with Stella, so it didn’t matter—I wasn’t going to be getting up to any extracurriculars anyhow. We got divorced and I never really figured there was much point, you know? I’m used to women, or Stella, at least. Why open that can of worms?”

“Indeed.”

“And then you ride in with your white-knight routine and your fucking hat—“

“My hat?”

“Yeah, your hat. It’s hot.”

“Why thank you.”

“And you look so damned good, but I’m just admiring from a distance in a strictly hypothetical capacity, since you’re straight and even if you aren’t, I’m not willing to bother. Only you’re not straight, and I kinda am willing to bother. Only you don’t think I’m worth being straight with—no pun intended. Even now you didn’t tell me, I had to twist your arm and wring it out of you. It just...made me kind of crazy. My best friend, my partner can’t even trust me.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I just sorta lost it there. And then opportunity had to go and present itself.” He shrugged. “I’m a man of action, Fraser. Can you blame me?”

“I suppose that I can’t,” Fraser said uncertainly.

“You know me—I figure out what I want, I go after it.”

“And you want...?”

“You, dipshit. Haven’t you been listening?”

“I’ve been listening,” Fraser assured him. “Sometimes you can be a bit hard to follow.”

“You want me to sum up? Hit the bullet points?”

“No, no, that’s all right. I think I’ve got it now.”

“Good,” Ray said and took a deep breath, clearly relieved. “Great. So how’s it gonna be?”

Fraser swallowed, not quite trusting himself to speak.

“You want to go on a date Friday? We can get pizza, catch the game...”

“That’s what we were going to do anyway, Ray.”

“Yeah, only now we make-out afterwards. If you want.”

Fraser licked his lips and smiled. “Oh, I want.”

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buzzylittleb.livejournal.com

*grin* This gives me the warm and fuzzies.

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More than just a clever euphemism

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