Fuck It All and No Regrets

He should have known this would happen. Ray pressed the back of his head against the wall and tried to breathe normally. Because yeah - sure - fine - Fraser sucked his cock every day. Fraser, he dropped to his knees and he told Ray to shut up, and he sucked Ray's cock just - like - this, yeah. Every day of the fucking week.

Breathe. Right. Okay, he could do that.

Because of course Fraser was sucking him off, why wouldn't he? When you think about it, it's really the only thing to do after he just spent, like, ten minutes - fifteen maybe? - a long time, anyway - kissing Ray. Like, really kissing Ray. Kissing Ray like Fraser was the one having problems breathing, and, apparently, needed Ray's tongue in his mouth in order to get oxygen. Because whenever Ray tried to yank his mouth away to say, "Fraser, what the fuck," Fraser would follow him with his mouth, and go right back to it, kissing him roughly, and shoving his tongue into his mouth till Ray had no choice but to twist his hands in the back of Fraser's soft flannel shirt, and kiss him right back.

And that much was normal, right? Not weird at all, not after that stupid, silent car ride, when Fraser wouldn’t talk or even argue or respond or anything. He just sat there staring straight ahead and it was like Ray was talking to a brick wall, and it didn’t matter what Ray said - if it was, "Fraser, what the hell did you expect me to do," or if it was, "Look, it's my job, you know that, I know that, remember? Uniforms, like capes, like you said, like we're goddamn heroes, right?" or even if it was, after a long, long silence in which Ray was twitching and bouncing his leg as he drove and had turned the radio on and off six times, "I'm sorry, okay? Fraser? I said I'm sorry, I just - I didn't want - I'm fucking sorry, okay?"

Nothing. Not one damn word, just that stony silence which Ray hated worse than anything. It gave him nothing to work with, nothing to bounce off of except the inside of his own skull, which was pretty annoying in and of itself. It made him crazy to have to just sit there, and he finally just left the radio off and drove too fast, and when, on the last turn into his parking lot, Fraser's hat slid off the dashboard and onto the floor, Fraser didn’t even move to pick it up.

And Ray knew he was well and truly fucked.

He slammed on the brakes and pulled into his space, shutting off the car. Clutching the wheel with both hands, he slowly leaned his forehead against it. "Shit," he muttered. He turned to look at Fraser. "Just…" Fraser was already getting out of the car, tilting the seat forward to let Dief jump out, then slamming the door. His hat was still on the floor. Ray sat there for another second, tired out of his mind. "Fine," he said to the empty car. "I'll just - yeah." He sighed, and scooped the hat up off the floor, and got out of the car.

He followed Fraser into his apartment building, absently dusting the hat off with his hand. Fraser was just getting on the elevator with Dief. Okay, so Fraser was mad, was so pissed he wouldn't even talk to Ray when he knew, he goddamn knew, that the silent treatment was Ray's worst thing ever.. But if he really didn't want to talk or fight or try and work this out at all, he would have just stayed in the car when Ray pulled into the parking lot, or maybe just started walking home without a word. Ray was pretty sure as soon as he got Fraser into his apartment, he’d be able to try talking to the guy again.

He caught the elevator doors just as they were sliding shut and Fraser didn't even pretend to be reaching for the button to hold them. Ray glared at Fraser and Fraser just looked at him. Ray had figured on him doing the "calm and cool" deal, but no, Jesus, Fraser was pissed, because the look Fraser gave him was lethal. Ray actually took a small step back, and the elevator doors half-closed on him. He cursed, and shoved his way in, and stood there next to Fraser. Without looking at Ray, Fraser silently held out his hand, and Ray sighed, and handed him his hat. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ray rocked back on his heels and chewed on his lip, while Fraser stood silently next to him. He wasn't even looking up at the holy-god-so-slowly-changing numbers, but instead just staring straight ahead and even from the corner of his eye, Ray could see how Fraser was standing, all angry and tense.

And so when they got to Ray's apartment, and Ray got the door open, and Fraser shoved him through, shoved him from behind, and that's not very Canadian of you, is it, Fraser? Well, Ray was relieved, because hey, fighting, he could handle. He swung around, but Fraser just shoved Ray again, so that his back hit the wall hard, and knocked the breath out of him. That was about the point that Dief decided he'd just wait in the kitchen, thanks. Ray was just standing there, his hands up so he could take a swing at Fraser, or at least block what he was sure was an incoming punch. Only Fraser didn't hit him. Fraser grabbed Ray's shirt and held him there against the wall, and then Fraser was kissing him, and Ray couldn't blink or move or do anything other than stand there and be kissed.

And try to remember to breathe.

So when you think about it, it all made a certain amount of sense, and Ray shouldn't be surprised or having this breathing problem at all, he should just be - well, trying to lock his knees so he won't slide down the wall, or maybe he should be hanging onto Fraser's shoulders, and possibly trying not to come down Fraser's throat.

Though that last part Ray wasn't sure about. Fraser seemed pretty dead-set determined to make him come, and soon. Ray shut his eyes tight, because looking down at Fraser -Fraser, on his knees, Fraser, with his mouth on Ray, Ray's dick sliding between Fraser's lips - it was too much. He tilted his head back and gasped in air, and thought again that he should have known, he should have fucking known.

Ray thought dizzily, as Fraser's tongue moved over his dick, that sometimes he didn't give Fraser enough credit.

Because it did make sense, it made perfect sense, it's what Ray would have done, should have done, should have maybe done a long time ago. Because Fraser, thought the uniform was some sort of shield, using it to confuse people into not putting a hole in his chest.

Ray closed his eyes tighter, and he didn't see Fraser on his knees. He saw, instead, Fraser, who was as much a dumb-ass as Ray himself, stepping out from behind the car they were crouched behind. Ray had his head down, his gun out, his glasses on. Ray was ready for this guy - this crazy guy, couldn't Fraser see the guy was a nutcase? A nutcase waving a gun, a big-ass gun, on the sidewalk in front of the flower shop. This guy was seriously crazy, was practically foaming at the mouth. He was ranting about how his wife had left him on Valentine's Day because he had forgotten to get her flowers, and how he wanted her here, now, he'd give her all the fucking flowers she wanted. And great, Ray thought tiredly, just great, buddy, go on a bender just to ruin my day.

Ray was blaming Fraser anyway, because they wouldn't have been anywhere near the damn flower shop in the first place if Dief hadn’t gotten all excited - what was it with the wolf and flowers, anyway? - and run towards it, only to stop, growling and crouched low to the sidewalk, as this guy came out with the middle-aged Asian guy who ran the shop in a choke-hold, with a gun to his head, and the three of them - Ray, Fraser, and the wolf, and dear god, would someone please tell him how his life had gotten to the point where he had to keep track of a wolf as he went about his business? - dove behind a parked car.

So they were in charge of the scene while they waited for the back-up Ray had called in, and Ray could hear them, could hear the damn sirens, that's how close they were, when Fraser was suddenly in his field of vision, because Fraser had moved from behind him and was stepping towards the psycho with the gun.

Ray lunged for him, cursing, but it was too late, and Fraser didn't even look at him, didn't even spare him a glance as he walked slowly forward towards the guy, who had his arm around the storekeeper's neck tight, way too damn tight; the guy was struggling for air. "Sir," Fraser said, in his Canadian way, "If I may - what is your wife's name?"

And Fraser, yeah, Jesus, Ray knew was Fraser was doing, confuse and distract and kill time, sure, great idea, only Fraser was making himself the goddamn target and he didn't even have the uniform on, didn't even have that much of a make-believe shield.

Ray wanted to kill him, wanted to motherfucking kill him, and he was swearing and inching forward from the behind the car. The sirens were close, but the nutcase - who was screwed up, was on something, his eyes were wild and the hand holding the gun was weaving, but turning steadily in Fraser's direction. Fraser had his hands out, open, no threat, sure, - "…because you don't even have a gun, Fraser, that's just great…" Ray muttered to himself - was introducing himself. Ray heard it, heard, "…ton Fraser, Royal…," even as he was watching, he saw the guy's eyes focus, and Ray knew that he had maybe three seconds before that trigger was pulled.

There was only the sidewalk between them, because Ray was crouched at the end of the car, and he could see the sweat running down the nutjob's cheek. Fraser was still talking, still stalling, and then Ray was launching from his crouch to a roll on the sidewalk, and he hit the guy right as his gun went off, his arm jerking upward, to blow a completely non-lethal hole in the awning of the flower shop.

Then Dief got the guy's gun away - yeah, great, he had a wolf for back-up - and Fraser had the guy tied up, and Ray was sitting sprawled on the sidewalk, wondering what it had been like when his heart beat at a normal pace.

Then there was back-up arriving and tons of people, and Fraser hauling him to his feet and not looking at him. And Ray had the distant thought that he was the one who should be pissed, not Fraser, but his heart was beating so loud in his ears he couldn't even think. And then there was the station and reports and Welsh calling them both idiots, and then that long, silent car ride.

And then this. Ray managed to open his eyes. Fraser holding his hips so tight, and sucking his dick so hard, and Fraser's eyes were closed, and he was on his knees at Ray's feet. Ray didn't have time to do anything more than move his hand shakily to touch Fraser's cheek, and then it was boiling up from his toes and he was jerking and coming in Fraser's mouth and the back of his head hit the wall with a dull thump that he didn’t even feel.

When Ray looked down, Fraser was wiping one hand across his mouth, and then he started to heave himself to his feet, but stopped, sitting back on his heels. He looked up at Ray and Ray let himself slide down the wall. "Fraser," he said, and stopped, and Fraser was just looking at him. Like he couldn't have not done this anymore than he could have not walked out from behind that car. "Fraser," Ray said again. "That was so fucking stupid."

Fraser blinked. "It's been a while, but I've been told that my technique…"

Ray waved his hands. "No, Fraser, not your technique, your technique was fine, it was great, that's not - " He stuttered to a stop, his head suddenly flooded with pornographic images of Fraser perfecting his technique - He took a breath. "I meant the thing with you putting yourself in front of a gun, Fraser."

"Ah." Fraser looked uncomfortable. "I didn't…" Fraser stopped talking, and just shrugged. "I know."

"Then why the fuck," and suddenly it was Ray who was so mad he didn't have the words.

Fraser shut his eyes for a second. "He had his arm on that shopkeeper's throat, he was crushing his windpipe…"

"There was back-up coming." Ray's voice didn't even sound like him.

"There wasn't enough time."

"Because you pushed it, Fraser. You walked right out in front of that gun."

"So did you," Fraser shot back.

"Because I had to!" Ray shouted. "What part of this don't you get?"

Fraser shook his head. "The part where -" He stopped, and he just looked - frustrated, and fucked-up. Kind of like Ray himself felt. "The part where you did have to. I didn't know. I just - I didn't know that. I -"

Ray stared at Fraser. "You're really dumb sometimes. You know that, right?"

Fraser looked up, startled. "I - yes," he said, blinking. "I believe you may be right about that."

"So why the silent treatment?" Ray demanded. Jesus, had Ray apologized? What the hell had he been thinking?

"You were stupid too," Fraser said tiredly.

"You made me be stupid!" Wow. Nice argument, Kowalski. "Just - don't, anymore, okay? Jeez." Ray ran his hand through his hair. See, he got this, he did. He would have done the same thing - with the shoving and the kissing and yeah, the blow-job - if he thought he could have gotten away with it. He hadn't known, but god, yeah, see, this was one of those deals where he and Fraser were on the exact same page here - the "why the fuck don’t you care if you fucking die" page. Only, Fraser didn't care because he was - as previously stated - a dumb-ass, who thought that he couldn't die, and also maybe thought that no one would really care for very long if he did.

And Ray didn't care - in this particular instance, which was something Fraser was not seeing - he didn't care because if Fraser took a bullet, then it was just the same as Ray himself getting shot. So if Ray could stop that by taking one himself, then fine, dandy, and Fraser was gonna have to just deal. Fraser was his partner. "It's - you and me, all right? Got it?"

"Yes." Fraser was looking at Ray, but not in a real listening kind of way. Fraser was pretty much just looking at Ray's mouth.

Which was suddenly very dry. "You -" And Ray thought again, how if he'd known, he'd have been the one - should have been the one - to do this, to take that pretty basic step, of showing Fraser how much he needed him not to be dead. "Just -"

Fraser licked his lip, and leaned a little towards Ray. "Yes?"

"Christ," Ray sighed. "Just come here, will you?" And, "Idiot," he muttered against Fraser's lips.

"Likewise," Fraser breathed back.

"Yeah," Ray admitted, sliding his hand up Fraser's thigh.

"Good," Fraser said distractedly, before sliding his tongue back into Ray's mouth.

And Ray didn't have an argument left in the world.

~end~

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