At first they don't notice when it gets colder, or at least Ray doesn't, and Fraser doesn't say anything, but maybe he's just used to this. It's Fraser, so maybe he tracks it; tracks the way the sun starts setting earlier by increments, the way the wind blows harder. Tiny changes, but enough for someone like Fraser to notice and judge the moment when winter is well and truly here.

Ray doesn't notice the details like that, not like Fraser. He never has, and that's part of what makes him uneasy up here - he's supposed to notice the details. The details are fucking important; up here, the details are the space between life and death. He's learning it - he's learned a lot, already, learned a lot on the adventure, long before they ever settled down here, with a cabin and jobs and the day-to-day life so far fucking north that Ray sometimes can't remember life in Chicago.

He's learned stuff, yeah, but he's not in tune up here the way he was back home. In Chicago, he knew when a train was coming by the hum of the tracks; he could speed up to an intersection, knowing just when the light was going to change from red to green; he knew when a suspect was going to run even though Ray had him in his sights, had his gun right fucking on him. Those are the details Ray is good at: how to catch a train, how to corner a car, how to sight down the barrel of a gun. Up here, he thinks he's no good, sometimes. He's learning, but not fast enough, and it grates against him in an endless circle of worry in his head. He's not learning fast enough, and what happens if it doesn't kick in? What happens if he doesn't catch the rhythm of this place, what happens if the pieces don't fall into place?

He catches Fraser watching him sometimes, and he knows this is a detail Fraser notices and tracks, too - the tension Ray carries with him. He thinks sometimes that Fraser measures it the way he measures the slight drop in temperature, the slight change in the wind, adding it all up and planning for what it signals.

Ray wants to ask, sometimes, if Fraser really does know where it's all heading, because Ray sure as hell doesn't.

It's getting colder and winter's coming up, fast and strong. Ray wears layers even when he's inside, and he's still never warm. Fraser sits next to him on the couch at night, and Ray pushes his cold feet under Fraser's thigh. The corner of Fraser's eyes crinkle as he smiles at Ray, and Ray says sleepily, "You're like a furnace."

Fraser murmurs back, "Lucky you," and Ray grins, loving it that Fraser teases him so easy like this now. Fraser's relaxed into himself, here in the far north, in a way he never really had, back in Chicago. Ray wiggles his toes and Fraser's smile gets warmer and he strokes Ray's leg with his hand.

Ray sighs and lets his eyes close. Fraser's hand is huge and warm, even through the denim of Ray's jeans, and just this, here, Fraser's hand moving gently against him, is enough to turn him on. It seems like it should have gotten old and easy between them by now - they've been together for so long, for years. Ray wonders sometimes if they will ever lose this electricity between them. They haven't so far, though - they've just gotten better at reading each other, better at feeding this flame between them.

Fraser shifts on the couch, and now his hand is moving up Ray's thigh. Ray opens his eyes, watches Fraser there in the dark, as the TV flickers in the background and the fire sends weird shadows up the walls. Fraser's watching him, hot and intense. Ray gives him a lazy smile and lets his legs fall open. Fraser grins, now, and moves on the couch, shifts until he's draped over Ray, one of his legs between Ray's, and it's not until then, until they're pressed together, until Ray's half-hard and breathing a little heavy, that Fraser kisses him. Pushy, needy kisses there on the couch, pressing against each other in this rhythm that builds, and Ray's not cold at all now, not with Fraser all over him now, not with Fraser's hand pressing hard against his hip.

Ray's learned this - learned what Fraser wants, what he likes, what he needs. Ray knows what works for him, what gets him there fast, when he wants it fast, and what will make it last, draw it out until they are both panting for it. This is something that came easy for Ray, came easy for the both of them. It's not the end all, it's not everything, but it gives Ray a starting point - it gives him a grounding - it gives him proof that you can learn the details, if you want to bad enough.

And he wants to. He wants to stay here, he wants this to be his home, the way it's Fraser's home. Because Fraser is worth it, and this is worth it; together, they are worth it.

Fraser breathes in sharply as Ray moves on the couch, pushing his hips up, wanting this now, hard and fast and them, together, here on the couch, like this is how it's supposed to be, like this is something that will last. Fraser reads him - reads him like he reads the weather, the leaves, the frost on top of the snow - and responds, his kisses getting deeper, more intent, messier - kissing with a goal.

"We could move to the bedroom," he says roughly, his breath hot against Ray's ear, but he's undoing Ray's jeans with one hand as he says it.

"More space," Ray offers, as Fraser reaches into his jeans. "We could - oh Christ." He cuts himself off as Fraser's warm hand wraps around his cock. "I -"

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser's voice is hoarse, now, and Ray can feel him, hard up against Ray's hip, moving against him just a little bit, like he can't help himself, even though his focus is elsewhere. Elsewhere, in this case, meaning Ray's cock, where he's stroking Ray just perfectly, hard and fast. Ray's panting like he's run a three-minute mile, pushing his cock up into the circle of Fraser's fingers.

"God, I - yeah." He can do this. He can multitask with the best of them. "Bedroom, with the - god, okay, just like that, just - please keep doing it like that -"

Fraser laughs a little, low, and Ray takes a deep breath, and manages to get out, all in one breath. "Bed. Bedroom has a bed, and we could - oh Christ - you know, take a nap, or - " Fraser's teeth are on his earlobe now, biting down lightly. "Something," Ray finishes lamely, because okay, maybe he can't multitask, not right now, fine, fuck it, overrated skill anyway. He can't bring himself to care, because Fraser has moved, changed the angle, is working him now, getting him there fast and hard and sure. Ray can't focus his eyes, can hardly breathe, and he's got his heels planted into the couch, thrusting himself up and up into Fraser's hand.

Fraser is pressing his mouth against Ray's shoulder, now, right where his flannel shirt opens at the neck, is sucking him there, with just a little bit of teeth, and Ray is fucking shaking here, is right on the goddamn edge, so close, so close, so fucking close -

"Jesus - just - don't -"

"I'm not stopping," Fraser's voice is thick with sex. "Just like this -"

"Just like that," Ray agrees faintly, dizzily. "I have to - you've got to -"

"Yes," Fraser says, his mouth up against Ray's neck again, "Yes, Ray,"

Ray jerks his hips up sharply and comes, and Fraser is moaning out loud right along with him, like he's the one that's losing it here, like he's the one that's coming. "Jesus," Ray says, "Oh, Jesus."

He can't open his eyes, can't move, his chest is heaving, and Fraser is still pressed tightly against him, his cock against Ray's hip, his mouth against Ray's neck muttering yes, yes and Ray is fucking overcome here. Fraser gets caught up in Ray's orgasm almost more than his own, like getting Ray off is the main thing here, and Ray loves that, he really fucking loves that, and he gets that, because he loves it, too - it never gets old, Fraser getting off on Ray getting off.

He manages to catch his breath, here, now, and opens his heavy eyes. Fraser is watching him, his own eyes hot and pleased - he loves watching Ray like this, all undone. "Kiss me," Ray says, and Fraser does, lowering his mouth to Ray's and kissing him, hot and wild for it.

"God, Ray." Fraser's mouth is red and wet when he pulls away, and Ray slides off the couch, onto his knees on the thick knitted rug on the floor. He reaches for the fastening on Fraser's jeans, but Fraser catches his hands in his own, stopping him. Ray looks up at him questioningly - Fraser is the only guy in the world, Ray sometimes thinks, who would put a stop to a blowjob.

"I -" And it's funny, that even after all this time, Fraser finds it hard to ask. He doesn't have the words, which kills him, sometimes, Ray can tell. He knows what he wants but he can't ask, and this, Ray can give him. This is something Ray knows: that hearing him say it turns Fraser on. It turns Ray on, too, sends a shot of heat through his belly.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he asks, looking up at Fraser.

Fraser nods mutely, getting up from the couch and dragging Ray to his feet. Ray surges up against him, kissing him fiercely before allowing himself to be tugged to the bedroom.

This is good between them - this works between them. Not just the sex, but this connection, this happiness, and if it does work - if they are happy - then Ray lets himself believe, right now, that the rest of the details will work themselves out. That the two of them are together and so it's okay if only Fraser notices that extra degree of cold, if only Fraser notices the turn towards winter.

The rest of it is the two of them against the world, and if it's Chicago or if it's Canada, they still - always - work better together than they do separately. Call it a duet; call it love; call it whatever you want. There aren't always words for the important things in life. Ray gets that. Hell, even Fraser gets that.

It works for them, and that's what's important, and Ray, as he gets tugged to their bedroom to get fucked good and hard and perfect, is smiling.

Fuck the details. This is them.

~end~

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