Fraser, with hints of Ray/Ray. God, this is the tiniest, most perfect ficlet EVER. This is the fic I'm talking about when I tell you size doesn't matter. This is Fraser, and his Rays, and it packs a perfect, painful punch.
Fraser/Kowalski. It's a simple little fic about Ray getting off on Fraser's uniform, but man oh man, it's the hottest, most erotic thing ever. Guh.
Kowalski/Gardino. It's connected to Hawks and Hands, yes, but this is the fic that made me fall so desperately in love with this AU pairing of Ray Kowalski and Louis Gardino. It's the two of them, the end of the season, so entirely fucked up, yet - it's love, there, yeah. God. Hockey boys.
Ray/Ray. God. This is one of my all-time favorite Ray/Ray fics. It's just - it's them. It's desperate and dangerous and beyond hot, just - I love this:
And Vecchio’s fists close around the lapels of that stupid coat and he pushes Ray back into one of those bedrooms, pushes him up against the wall, kicks the door shut behind him. It’s real dark inside, but there’s just enough light Ray can see that look on Vecchio’s face--that wide-open, scared-shitless, god-awful look. And then Vecchio’s got his hands in Ray’s wet hair and he’s kissing him.
Go. Read.
Fraser/Kowalski. It's Hth. It's Fraser/Kowalski, and it's tiny, short, and fucking heart-wrenching and hot as hell at the same time.
Not Really Totally Straight That Much At All by Estrella
Ray/Ray. Honestly, her author's notes say it all:
No summary. Ray/Ray doesn't need a summary. Written because a lot of the time I really do think that Vecchio is straight. And that just makes me want to have Kowalski fuck him over the back of a couch.
Ray Kowalski. This is the Due South fic you MUST read. This is Ray Kowalski, and Chicago, and just - you HAVE to read this, if you have any love whatsoever of Due South in your heart. Every word is perfect; every moment is necessary; every memory makes my heart clench, and soar, and break for Ray Kowalski.
Ray loves Stella like he loves breathing, loves Fraser like he loves his tattoo, loves Chicago like he loves everything permanent in his life.
It's perfection, and it's important. Read.
Ray/Fraser. God, okay. This is established relationship, moving in together, and Fraser finds Ray's box of mementos of the time when he was in a band. And just - it's ridiculously hot and completely in character, and doesn't have to be an AU at all, because it FITS with the Ray we know and love.
it's too much, because Ben's picturing himself as Johnny, sitting on a ratty couch, everything like a dream, drugs a buffer against reality, Ray's skinny twenty-year-old body fucking into a strange girl --
This tells about Fraser finding out, and Ray's stories about the time. Band of Gold is Ray's point of view about how it actually was, and it's just as hot, just as perfect.
Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio. This is the fic that sold me on the threesome thing. It's a crazy, hurtful, mixed up thing, not easy or smooth for any one of them. You can see what Ray is aiming for, you can see what he wants, and you can see why it doesn't work. It's just - it hurts to read, but is tremendously well-done. Fraser/Kowalski. God. Fraser teaching a grumpy Ray how to ice skate. Only it's not contrived or cute or anything like that, it's just - well, this:
Fraser doesn't say anything. There's patient, which Ray is not, and then there's something that's more than patient. That's this kind of...*stillness*, a certainty, maybe, and that's Fraser. That's where he lives, inside that still certainty. He's willing, Ray knows, to stand here all night if that's what it takes.
"*Fine*," Ray says. Gripping the edge of the bench, he pushes himself up. Stands, and his right foot goes that way, and his left foot skids behind him, and the ice is rushing up, up, white and bright, and -- "Ooof."
Fraser catches him, hands in Ray's armpits. "Easy."
Fraser/Kowalski. It's tent fic, with Fraser obsessing about Ray's tattoos, and it's wholly, pantingly, meltingly hot.
Fraser only saw it once, when he and Ray were stripping down and Ray's boxer-briefs drooped a little on his hips, and Fraser caught a brief glimpse of faded indigo smear.
Fraser/Kowalski. Happy, drunk Ray shows up at the consulate. Wearing a hat. It's the best thing ever in all the world.
“Listen,” said Ray to Dief. “You gotta behave. I am inbriated.”
“Inebriated,” said Fraser.
Ray leaned over a little to talk to the dog—“Half wolf,” said Fraser’s prim voice in his head—and overbalanced, fell onto the cot.
“Oh, I am going to stay here,” said Ray.
Ray/Ray. SCORCHINGLY hot, fucked up, fucked over sex. They have too much in common, too much that went wrong, and just - god, it's fucking awesome.
"Christ, Kowalski," Vecchio said, when Ray ran his thumb over the head of Vecchio's dick and thrust hard into his ass. "You fuck better than your ex-wife.".
Fraser/Kowalski. Great format: six places, six events, and just - it's sexual tension coursing through their everyday lives. It's THEM, it reads like an ep, only with hot, hot sex:
Ray is still shaking, shaking all over, and if he could, if he had the guts, he’d stop the car. He’d get out and yank Fraser out of the passenger side onto the sidewalk and drive off. He’d leave and he’d never look back. So close this time, so close… .
Fraser/Kowalski. Tent fic is a staple in this fandom, but this hit me, just right. How it all happened, and how Fraser handles it, how he WON'T TALK, and how RAY handles it, and just - all of it, but mostly how fucking hot the sex is. She took the basic tent fic and made it something new and fresh, and seriously fucking hot.
That night when they crawled into bed, Ray shoved Fraser onto his side and curled up against his back, arm wrapped around his waist. "Pretty soon," he whispered into the back of Fraser's neck, "you and me are gonna talk. And then we're gonna fuck.".
Fraser/Kowalski. Ray has a kink that I think we all can appreciate. This is short, hot, and packs a very serious sexual punch. GUH.
He is naked beneath the sheets and the outline of his erection is tantalizingly apparent. Fraser watches as Ray slowly slides one hand down, over the crisp white cotton and lets the tips of his long fingers rub over his hardness.
Fraser/Kowalski. God, I asked for drunk Ray, and she took that tiny prompt and turned it into this entire fic of just - repressed longing and Ray going out with a girl, and Fraser being all buttoned-up and yearning The way she writes the details of what goes on between them kills me dead.
“I’m good, Frase, my day just kind of sucked. My night sucked. The only thing that hasn’t sucked today is this bottle of scotch,” he said, gesturing somewhere in the general vicinity of the bottle, or where he thought it was anyway.
Fraser didn’t say anything, just turned his body a bit toward Ray’s and reached his arm out, his hand coming to rest on Ray’s bicep. Ray felt his whole body freeze up, then melt slowly into Fraser’s hand, and the edges of Fraser’s face, which was really close now, were just a little blurred.
Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio - god. Vecchio comes home from a trying day at work, and, uh, this happens:
Fraser lifts his head to look at Ray, and one hand tugs at Kowalski's hair, trying to signal him to stop, but Kowalski, he's going to town, he's having a goddamn blast, and he doesn't want to stop. So he just keeps going, and Fraser keeps looking at Ray, and Ray's leaning back on the doorframe, hanging onto it like he's the one getting blown.
"Yes, well," Fraser said to Dief. "I could hardly take you with me." Dief groaned and butted Fraser's knee. "Oh, so you didn't miss me because you prefer Ray's choices in his breakfast repast? I see. Yes, well, jelly doughnuts don't make for lasting companions, do they?" "He moped while you were gone," Ray offered. "And what did you do?" Fraser asked, burying a hand in Dief's warm ruff. Ray shrugged. "Got bent." Dief grumbled. Fraser relaxed his grip on the wolf's fur. "Pardon?" GUH!
Into the Wild by Kalena Fraser. Putting himself in handcuffs. (Only Fraser would put himself in handcuffs). And I don't usually have a kink like this (well, okay, I'm lying. I have a handcuffs kink, but not a BDSM kink), but there is just something about this, and how it's written, and the sheer hotness of Fraser getting off on this, and it makes a weird amount of sense, and c'mon, look at this:
Every single time his discipline slipped, his head was filled with the image of Ray. Ray, leaning over the cuffed man up against the car. Ray, stopping the man's angry struggles with the weight of his body. Ray, his groin pressed hard against the man's buttocks.
Perhaps, Fraser thought, it wouldn't be so firmly etched into his memory if the man up against the car hadn't looked, from Fraser's vantage point behind them both, so much like . . . himself. He closed his eyes, the better to see it all clearly. As tall as Ray, a heavier build, thick dark hair, wearing a brown leather jacket and tight faded jeans. It took far too little effort to imagine the weight of Ray's body against his back, the press of Ray's groin against his buttocks. He would gladly struggle just for the thrill of forcing Ray to subdue him.
The fantasy was exciting in inverse proportion to the likelihood of such a thing ever happening.
Springfield by Estrella Okay, partly it's the phone sex that does it for me in this story. But it's more than that. It's the level of detail she provides in the writing, it's how dead-on accurate the voices are, and mostly, it's the anticipation of Ray and Fraser being so far apart as they finally figure out how they need each other. And even when they figure it out? They're still just guys, and it's perfect.
Fraser laughed softly. Ray silently willed his dick to, please god, not get hard from just the sound of Fraser laughing.
"So how was the rest of your day?" Fraser asked.
"Long. Boring." Ray snorted. "Pretty much the same as the first. So listen. Really. You okay?"
"Yes, Ray, I'm -"
"Because don't tell me you're okay when you're not. I know you, and you don't sound okay. You sound..."
There was a pause, and then, "Ray?"
Lonely, Ray thought. You sound lonely.
Confessional by Lynnmonster Messy, awkward, fucking hot first-time sex. In a confessional. It's wonderful.
"Now is the perfect time! Look, Fraser, I'm ... I'm here as a truth-seeker, all right? And you're on the priest's side of this box, so you can't lie." The visibility through the little cross-shaped holes was minimal, but Ray could probably still see Fraser run his thumb across his eyebrow on the other side of the confessional. Fraser aborted the movement and wiped his suddenly-damp palm on his jeans instead.
"I'm not sure that's actually ..." Fraser trailed off as the dim shape on the other side of the barrier ducked out of sight.
Fraser heard the scuffle of Ray bolting out of his own cubicle only a moment before he darted into Fraser's, closing the door solidly but softly behind him. He leaned back against it and crossed his arms. "Well?" he demanded in a fierce whisper.
Marriage Fic by Byob This has been one of my very favorite fics for a while. It's het, I'll warn you: Ray and Stella's wedding night. Byob writes them so wonderfully: they're so young, and their ideal awkwardness and hopefulness makes my heart ache.
Oh, right. He was just standing here with his hand on her boob, staring like an idiot. Time to make this good. He bent down, tasting her lips, then trailing down her perfect pink nipples. He licked the path where his hand had been, and she moaned and shuddered beneath him. This looked like a good way to get used to the whole “all bets off” thing; reading the map, so to speak. He kissed downward, dipping his tongue into her navel, which made her squirm and giggle, biting her hipbones, which made her gasp and arch. Ray decided that gasping was a good thing, so therefore biting was a good thing. He bit gently down her soft, so fucking soft thighs, and back up again where he was faced with…shit.
Talk about intimidating.
They didn’t make maps for this.
What He Wants by Ineke Okay, wow, this is sex. Just - man, hot, combustible, first-time sex between Ray and Fraser. Ineke has a way with words and imagery, and man, this just made me sweat.
"Tell me this isn’t what you want, Fraser."
"Ray--"
"Tell me no, Fraser -- just tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want it. Tell me you don’t want this."
"I don’t want it, Ray," says Fraser, and his voice is rough -- his eyes are rough, there’s a whole minefield of emotions in there and Ray can see them, see the turmoil and the indecision and the lust -- all of Fraser right there in front of him, laid out for him to see. And Fraser’s body is laid out in front of him, too: a sprawl of Mountie pressed back over the ledge of the windowsill, shoulders back against the glass, Ray’s legs between his thighs: Fraser, hot and hard like a real boy, wanting it. He’s looking squarely at Ray, flushed and breathing hard. Determined. Determined not to break.
Don't Say the Word by Pearl-o Another Ray and Stella. I swear I'm not a het fan, and you know, this is, um, not quite het. This is Ray remembering; this is Ray figuring things out; this is Stella figuring out something about Ray. This is, all at once, hot but with an edge of upset. If nothing else, it's a hell of a character study.
Stella shrugged elegantly, one smooth motion from her shoulder all the way down. "Just..." She moved her hand down his bicep, down his ribs, watching herself stop and rest on his hip. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "What would you think of letting me do you like that some time?"
He could feel the corner of his mouth curl into a smile as he looked at her, with that perfectly composed expression still on her face. *That* was his Stella. The one who gave him a handjob under their coats at the senior year planetarium field trip. The one who still thought it was fun sometimes to call him at his desk and rev him up in the middle of the day -- not that had happened in a long while now, but the possibility was always there. Ray liked that Stella. Ray *missed* that Stella.
"Oh, you're *dirty*," he said, rolling back over to kiss her.
"So, yeah?" Stella said beneath him, looking pleased.
"Anything you want," Ray said, and she let him kiss her again.
cigarettes and blowjobs by cmshaw Um. Ray/Ray, and the title sums it up right there and it is sheer utter boy-on-boy hotness, and beyond that, she's just a hell of a beautiful writer. Go read, and then go read every last one of the rest of cmshaw's omg so hot fics.
Kowalski shrugged and shook a cigarette out, then returned the pack to his jacket pocket. "Yeah, it's a filthy habit," he said. He put the cigarette in his mouth and cupped his hands around the lighter. The breeze kicked up as he lit his cigarette, and Ray saw Kowalski's face lit briefly with the glow from the flickering light. Then Kowalski tucked the lighter back into his pocket and turned his face up into the wind, taking a long drag of smoke as the tip of his cigarette burned.
Ray coughed sympathetically and said, "Fraser know you smoke?"
Kowalski pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled a long plume of smoke out into the darkness. "Probably does. I don't smoke around him much."
"He'd smell it on you," Ray said. They both glanced toward the house at the same time, although all the windows facing the back were dark. The party, and presumably Fraser with it, was in the living room and kitchen up front.
Kowalski put the cigarette back in his mouth. "With all the shit he puts in his mouth, I guess he knows better than to give me grief," he said.
Last Night (Feeling Fine) by Dirty Diana Diana wrote this for Flashfic, wow, almost a year ago, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. She wrote it for the Cliché Challenge, but it's so much more than that. Drunk Fraser, who can't remember the night before, which sounds like it should be funny, but sort of makes my heart hurt.
Me? Oh, I'm fine. This ain't nothing new. I've got drunk Mounties in my car every day of the week. Drunk Mounties, slouched in the front seat, hair mussed like he just rolled out of bed, flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves to show smooth muscled forearms - and I briefly wonder what activity in the bar required rolling up his sleeves - and I take them all home with me. Beautiful, drunk Mounties, staring at me like all their happiness depended on my next answer. "I'm fine, Fraser," I say, as I turn off Columbus.
Making the Bed by Hth My god, how much do I love Hth's Ray/Ray fic? It blows my mind how they can be so domestic and still be such boys about it. Tough guy. Vecchio calls Kowalski tough guy, how wonderful is that? (there are still formatting issues at the site, but cut and paste the fic into Word and it straightens itself out.) And:
No idea how, but Vecchio had just taken a clean sheet and spread it over Ray's plain old familiar bed, and somehow did it so neat and even and correct that now Ray was afraid to touch it. The whole room was pretty the way it was, and pure and perfect, and not to be played in. Vecchio had made it special, not like an everyday kind of bedroom.
"Hey, sulky," Vecchio was saying to him, and Ray tried to snap into focus. "Come on, it's your nap time."
"Shut up," Ray said automatically, because it was what he usually said when he knew he'd never be able to find words for what he was actually thinking.
Caught by Dira Sudis Gen fic! Really so very good gen fic, a missing scene from Bounty Hunter, and no, I'm not just reccing it because it has Ray in handcuffs. Honest. It has fabulous Ray characterization, dead-on perfect Welsh characterization, and no, you sicko, it's not Ray/Welsh BDSM, however much my summary might have made it sound. Look:
He slid his wrist up a little, with the accompanying jangle of metal against metal, and Welsh's amused look got even more amused. He hadn't gotten to be lieutenant by not being able to string facts together, so it didn't even take two of the kids running by the door just then, screaming their heads off, for Welsh to know what had happened. Which was nice. Ray didn't really want to explain it--that had been the oldest trick in the book when he was eight, but he'd still been totally snowed. He should've known that Fraser's solemn word that they were good kids wouldn't mean anything--Fraser probably thought all kids were good, deep down.
Telephone by The Hoyden What we have here is a failure to communicate. Ray and Fraser, so very close, but close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades. Takes a little push to get them to figure things out.
What got me was the mental images that went along with this:
...when the phone rang on the end table beside me. Ray dove for it, ending up in my lap and pinning my hands (still holding the book I had been intermittently reading) beneath his torso. "Kowalski," he grunted into the phone. I debated shoving him off my lap and onto the floor, when Ray's voice turned pleasantly surprised. "Chris! How are you?" He picked himself up, albeit with a great deal of discomforting wriggling.
How fun is that to read? *g*
Because, okay, the thing is, this history Ray has with Stella? Is a huge part of who he is. And you kind of have to understand not only his motivations on being with her, but her motivations on being with him, in order to really understand his history. And Hel Virago does a stellar job of exploring a great deal in a very short space of time, and also sort of sums up my attraction to both Ray Kowalski and other bad boys...
She would have been offended if anyone'd said she found dangerous men attractive, but she let Ray go all the way after the prom because he didn't talk too much and his leather jacket felt beaten and broken in under her fingertips.
Close to the Chest by Hth Hth writes Ray/Ray beautifully, just beautifully. These are complex guys, but together they make a weird sort of sense, especially in Hth's universe. Her whole series about them ("What I See In You") should be read, but this one is my very, very favorite, with Lullaby in Blue and The Vibe coming in close behind. There are a few formatting issues on her site, but if you cut and paste the fic into Word, it straightens itself out, and is really, really worth it.
Here's a tiny little glimpse of wonderfulness:
He definitely remembered all those things. And then he remembered zoning out a little bit, then kissing his mom goodbye. He remembered being outside on the balcony for a while, laughing uproariously at some joke of Huey's, which should have been all the clue he needed that he was trashed out of his mind. He remembered a cake, and not quite getting all the candles blown out, and explaining to Fraser at rambling length that you *had* to eat cake and ice cream by smashing them together with the back of your spoon, it wasn't *optional,* it was how you eat cake and ice cream. He vaguely remembered music, the lights dimmer than before, dancing with Vecchio's arms around him, his lips brushing Ray's eyebrow, and Ray thinking, Shit, not in front of my *mom*.... But then, his mom had gone home, right? So had a lot of people. He remembered sinking against Vecchio's black silk-covered shoulder and mumbling into it, saying Fuck me, you know how much I love you, it's all you. Remembered Vecchio's double-chocolate-fudge-ice-cream chuckle vibrating through his body, his hands flat and protective on Ray's back.
Pas de Deux by Sihaya Black Okay, I know a lot of people say it, but I really mean it when I say that I don't go for AUs. I read these stories because I love Fraser and Ray, and I don't have any interest in "Medieval" Fraser and Ray or "Civil War" Fraser and Ray. But this...
Well. Sihaya is fucking talented. These are our guys. Only - Ray's a dance instructor, not a cop. And Fraser - well, Fraser is Fraser, truly, only things turned out a little different in his life, and a whole lot worse, and he meets Ray right when he needs him most. It's a compelling read, and it's them.
Besides, did I mention that Ray is a dance instructor?
There is enough of a connection to the show to be amusing and intriguing. I think this is the paragraph where I just totally caved. It takes place right after Ray has taught Fraser how to lead: It was easy to follow Ben's lead, easy to follow the subtle but firm pressure of Ben's fingers against his back. Ray relaxed, aware of the movement of his thigh against Ben's, of the occasional brush of their hips, and the pressure of their fingers. The music faded, inconsequential. He could feel the rhythm between them. They continued to move around the floor until Crissy passed close by and gave Ray a pointed look. Breathing quickly, Ray stepped away from Ben with a nod.
It's yummy. Trust me.
It's a series of three stories (beginning with Status Quo and ending with Emergent and they're all good, honestly, but this middle one is the one that just blew me away. Ray and Fraser, falling in love in the Northwest Territories. Laura writes falling in love so very sweet and hot. Like this:
O My America by Laura Kaye
I find myself touching him more the next day, finding excuses to tap his shoulders and pat his arms, standing a bit too close to him so that our bodies brush against each other. He makes no objection; in fact, he seems to take pleasure in the unnecessary contact, sending me occasional brilliant grins over his shoulder. I am ridiculously in love with him.
Occam's Razor by Khaleesian Fraser has broken fingers, and can't shave his face. So Ray helps him out. It's nowhere near as contrived as I've made it sound. It's intimate, and striking, and hot. See?
He almost flinched when Ray placed gentle fingers under his chin, it was almost over before it started. Holding himself still, he felt the shudder reverberate through his innards. He breathed deeply through his nose, kept his eyes heavenward and started spelling Ray’s last name backwards. Ray tilted his face with the softest pressure of his thumb, placed the blade at the exact line of his sideburn and drew it downward, gently, yet firmly. This safety razor was not as wide as his own blade and it required perhaps twice as many strokes across his cheek. He suddenly had a vision of Ray as an artist, painting his portrait with tiny brushstrokes. He dared a glance up into Ray’s face. Surely it was not that dim in here? Ray’s pupils were dilated. He clenched his jaw.
Seriously. Everything. I swear to God, you won't regret it. I put off reading "With Six You Get Eggroll"because Fraser? Ray? With six adopted kids? I mean really, who could make this work?
Okay, if you haven't already, go read everything Speranza has ever written.
Um.
Speranza could. And does. Amazingly. Like, it's-one-of-my-very-favorite-stories amazingly. And not just 'cause of the use of the term weltschmerz. Though that's one reason.
Go. Read. Seriously. 'Cause...
"Couple of good fights up here and you can alienate the entire town, what with friendships and family ties and shit like that. "Fuck you, Phil!" you say, except Phil works in the mines with Jack, Billy, Martin, Fred, and Pauli, and the five of them live at Mrs. Groton's boardinghouse and her sister runs the general store, plus Phil is dating Caroline and Martin courts Alice and each of those chicks has two sisters, not to mention that Alice's dad runs the gas station and his best friend of thirty years owns the only pizzeria for a hundred fucking miles, so the next thing you know you've got something like seventy-five people in a town of three hundred actively mad at you, and you get nasty looks buying gas and they deliberately skimp on the cheese when you order a pizza. So you sigh and bang your head against the wall of the cabin a couple hundred times and then you suck it up and go apologize to Phil, who buys you a beer, thank you kindly, and then Mrs. Groton smiles at you on the street again and Alice's dad tops you up for free and you get extra cheese on your pizza. Not that this has ever happened to me or anything. This is all purely fucking hypothetical.
-Speranza, "Ten Things To Get Used To" ...the woman's a goddamn genius.
Because she has Ray's voice down. And because she's really good at looking closely at the little things that make Ray so particularly...Ray. And this:
Subtley by s.a.
Ray ran a hand over his hair. He knew he'd spend the next couple of days doing just that, getting used to the sense of lightness, softness at the back of his head that came from getting his hair cut. He did it pretty often--every couple of weeks--but only when it was getting too long to put into the good kind of spikes. The bad kind of spikes stood up about an inch too long and took half a bottle of gel to get 'em looking that way, and then when he walked outside some punkass kid with a chartreuse mohawk would compliment him on his style. Then he knew it was time to head out to the hairdresser.
I don't know...it's just yummy.
Because...I mean, dear lord, it's tremendous. And lovely. It's all about hate, only it's not, it's love and need and you really need to just go read it. 'Cause:
Hate Story by Dira Sudis
I hate the way he calls at three in the morning, which even if he's forgotten about the time difference, which he shouldn't, is still a dumb time to be calling anybody, especially since it's Wednesday and I gotta be at work in a few hours, to tell me he's at the airport and his plane comes into Chicago at two tomorrow afternoon - meaning today. I hate how he doesn't apologize for the hour, like he knows that I'm just dying to hear from him, when he just called yesterday to check up on me and the wolf and he just left two days ago - and I hate that he's rushing back, instead of spending some quality time up north, like I'm going to go to pieces if he's not here. I hate how he doesn't actually ask me to pick him up, just tells me which gate, like it's beyond the realm of possibility that I won't be standing there waiting for him. It's not like I miss him.
All right?
You Get What You Need by aerye Because I'm a sucker for a well-done Ray/Ray fic, and this one is superb. Great characterization of both of them, and I think it's believable that Fraser might just leave them both, and that there would be this level of comfort between them. Here's an excerpt for you:Vecchio/Kowalski
They disagreed about sports ("hockey sucks"), clothes ("suits suck"), and where to order pizza and what to put on it. They were nothing alike, they had nothing in common—in fact, sometimes Ray thought that if someone set out to make two people as different as possible, they might have come up with him and Vecchio.
Except...except he fit with Vecchio, in ways he'd never fit with Fraser. Or Stella, come to think of it. Not like Vecchio was everything he wanted—hell, sometimes Vecchio was nothing like what he wanted, sometimes Vecchio needed to wear a big fucking sign that said "Not What Ray Kowalski Wants, No Way, No How."
It was just that, a lot of time, Vecchio was just what he needed.
Parental Guidance by Alanna, Starfish, and Kass
Made me laugh out loud.
"Ma, if there's anything in this world Fraser won't put in his mouth, I have yet to see it." His mother seemed to be stifling a cough, or a laugh, he wasn't sure which. There was a pause.
Forethought by Kass Because she mentions Local Hero without mentioning Local Hero and how freakin' cool is that?
Shades of Ray by Miriam Heddy Because Dira Sudis reminded me of it. And because this:
Fraser opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Bingo. He's got it. Either he's in shock because he's overcome with happiness that I love him and Canada enough to take the pledge, or he's thinking to himself, "Dear lord, I have a stalker." Both of which are true, actually.
This is a very short piece, and entirely worth reading. Because I have a thing about Ray and his glasses. So very, very yummy, and Kass gets oh, so right to the point as to why. Lovely, lovely tale.
Boys Who Wear Glasses by Kass
All right. So I was very, very new to Fraser/RayK. And I saw "Mountie on the Bounty." Which is, like, so very, very slashy. And I finished it, got up in a daze, and said out loud, "Dear lord. I have got to go find the fics about this episode." Because yeah, you think this might have been inspiring to people?
Mister Instinct by lamardeuse
And I discover that lamardeuse, who is one of my very favorite writers in the A-Team fandom, also writes dS. And wrote this very, very nice story about the events after MotB. And it was just so very much what I was looking for.
Did I mention I have a thing for Ray/Ray? Yeah. I do. And Resonant does it exceptionally well:
Left by ResonantVecchio/Kowalski
Vecchio kisses slow and arrogant most of the time. Yeah, baby, lemme show you how it's done. Ray likes to kiss him when he's coming, when all that smooth technique goes out the window and it's just greedy tongue and teeth -- or afterwards, when he's all boneless sleepy-eyed satisfaction. Ray likes to kiss him, fast and dirty, at the door or in the car. Just a little hint of danger.
Kat destroys me with her fic. Don't go here if you're looking for any sort of a happy-go-lucky tale. Do go here if you're looking to be stunned by the sheer talent this girl has, if you're looking to read something you'll walk around thinking about for days afterwards, if you're looking for something that will make you weak in the knees to read, and leave you mournfully wondering why the hell she doesn't write more, even if what she does write tears the heart right out of you.
Slush by Kat Allison
She's really fucking good.
Man. These stories are hot and will give you a whole new appreciation for Fraser's starched white boxers. And, um, then definitely intrigue you with the idea of silky blue ones, as well (yeah, that's right, Vecchio ain't the only one who can appreciate the whole slippery, silky undergarment deal.
Plain White Wrapper and Dry Clean Only by AuKestrel
). My dick pretty much jumps at that thought and I rub it again, squeezing it a little at the top. Fraser in his underwear, Fraser hard and hot and long under pristine white cotton, smooth and silky under my hand. I look sideways at the mirror - oh, big mistake. Me in Fraser's boxers, rubbing myself - it looks good and it's a goddamned solo party.
Mmm. Fraser. Ray. In the GTO. In an alley. So. Fucking. Hot.
Driving to Distraction by Shrift
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