Fandom: Due South
Word Count: 700
Summary: Takes place after COTW. Canada isn't Chicago.
AN: Written for the ds_aprilfools prompt:New Horizon
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Ray was chopping wood. As the pieces fell to the ground Ray smiled to himself. Just a few months ago every time he tried to chop wood he would end up getting the ax stuck in said wood, but now he was the wood chopping master. Ray stuck his ax in the stump he was using as a chopping block and looked up at the sky.
The sky was ablaze with reds, oranges and yellows. Pink and purple clouds looked like pieces of cotton candy. Snowflakes stuck to Ray's eyelashes and a cold wind blew but Ray hardly noticed. As the sun sunk below the horizon, Ray thought they certainly didn't have sunsets like that in Chicago. He felt a stab of home sickness and quickly squashed it; if Fraser could survive years in Chicago than Ray could survive in Canada. Besides, Fraser had promised they'd go back to visit Ray's parents and fact that Fraser constantly had a dopey Canada induced smile on his face more than made up for it.
Ray collected some wood and turned back to their cabin, he wondered when he has started thinking of it as their cabin and not Fraser's cabin; probably around the time Ray's mom mailed him his records- nothing said home like the best of Hard Core Logo. The pouch swing squeaked in the wind. Dief was curled up on the porch with a husky named Daisy. Seeing Dief curled up on the porch instead of curled up on the couch was still strange, but Fraser said Dief didn't want to leave Daisy because she was with child and Daisy preferred the outdoors. If it had been anyone else, he would have thought Fraser was joking about the with child part.
As Ray stepped into the cabin, he removed his coat and gloves and put the wood in a wooden bin. As he turned around he was hit by a smell and sight that made his mouth water. Fraser was standing by the stove stirring a pot, he was wearing flannel and blue jeans. The fabric of Fraser's jeans was worn soft and Ray took a moment to admire how the jeans hugged Fraser's ass. Ray couldn't resist coming up behind him and brushing his fingers against Fraser's neck hair. Some men were leg men, others were butt men but Ray was a self-described neck man. Considering that Fraser seemed to be a tattoo man, he said he licked it because the tattooed skin was tasted sweeter than Ray's non-tattooed skin, they really were two freaky peas in a pod.
'What's cooking?' Ray said as he rubbed his nose against Fraser's neck and inhaled the scent of soap and pine. His hands moved up and down Fraser's flannel shirt.
'Maggie was kind enough to bring over some moose meat and I thought a stew would be fitting.'
'Cool. Any special way to eat it?'
'Just open mouth and insert.'
'Funny, you said the same thing last night about your di...,' Ray said with a grin.
'You said that too.'
Fraser might have acted scandalized, but Ray couldn't help but notice that Fraser turned his head and dropped sloppy kisses on Ray's lips.
Ray sat on the floor by the fireplace, the flames crackled and popped like one of his old records. His full stomach gurgled. Fraser had his head of Ray's bare lap and was telling a story about a beaver, but Ray was too tired from pre-dinner sex and dinner-minus-clothes to do little more that let Fraser's voice wash over him and run his fingers through Fraser's sweat damp hair. Fraser was shirtless, the hickeys on his neck and shoulders were as dark as ink stains on his pale skin. Ray didn't have to see Fraser's face to know that his eyes were bright and shining. If they were in Chicago, Fraser would probably be covered up in his red long johns. All things considered Ray liked shirtless Canadian Fraser much more than buttoned down Chicago Fraser.
Canada wasn't Chicago by any stretch, they didn't even have decent pineapple pizza, but it had it charms. Ray could have done without all snow though.