Fandom/Pairing: Due South Fraser/RayK, past Victoria/Fraser and Meg/Fraser
Summary: Fraser thinks about kisses
AN: A continuation of The Real Ray
Fraser was sitting on the lumpy sofa in his cabin. The kettle whistled as Fraser sat on his couch and turned Ray's glasses over in his hands. The lenses was smudged with dirt and finger pints (some Ray's, some Fraser) and one of the temples was crooked. Over the last few weeks Fraser found himself holding the glasses more and more until one night he had fallen asleep with Ray's glasses in his hand.
Fraser put the glasses in the pocket of his shirt and went to the kitchen to make tea. The kitchen was little more than a stainless steel sink, a dented and scratched refrigerator and a wood stove but it suited Fraser's needs. Of course if... when when Ray came back, Fraser would probably have to set up a coffee pot. Thinking about Ray and coffee made Fraser remember how even during the quest Ray would smile after his first sip. Fraser felt a familiar sense of longing and tried not to think about how Ray had that same smile after they would kiss.
Fraser poured hot water over the tea bag in his cup and made his way back to his couch. Dief jumped on the couch and put his head on Fraser's leg.
'Not to worry, I'm fine.'
'Of course I miss Ray, but he had to leave. Stop being so melancholy, Ray promised to come back.' Fraser stroked Dief's ear and wished he could take his own advice.
Dief grumbled. Doing his best to ignore the comment Fraser removed the tea bag and brought his cup to his lips. He grimaced as the bitter liquid hit his tongue. Sometime you just had to take the bitter along with the sweet.
As Fraser sipped his tea he couldn't help but think of all the kisses he had had in his life. He didn't remember the sound of his mother's voice, but her kisses had been soft and loving. His grandmother's kisses had been few and infrequent and his father's had been non existent. Victoria's kisses had been cold and fierce, almost as if the darkness inside her was trying to find a way out. Meg's had been overwhelming in many ways. Finally there was Ray.
Their first kiss had been chaste, merely a brush of lips. That night Fraser had wrapped his arms around Ray, hoping Ray would reciprocate but knowing it was probably a fool's errand. When Ray put his hand on Fraser's, Fraser thought perhaps it wasn't such a fool's errand after all. After several moments Fraser buried his nose in Ray's neck and breathed deeply the scent of sweat and Ray; Fraser couldn't see how they could get more intimate but than Ray kissed him. Over the next few weeks Fraser learned all of Ray's kisses, from the quick and hard ones to the slow and gentle ones.
Fraser knew from life experience that his good fortune wouldn't last and one day it happened. Ray had been sitting with Fraser on the couch in Fraser's cabin when he said he had to go back to Chicago by himself. Fraser didn't remember what they talked about after that, all he heard was a voice in his head screaming for him to hold onto Ray, but another voice, a voice that sounded a little like Fraser's father told him he should let Ray go.
The day Ray left, Ray's kisses had been hard and long. If Ray saw the tears in Fraser's eyes, he didn't say a word.
After Ray left, Fraser found Ray's glasses sitting of top of their bed and Fraser wondered if that had been why Ray had gone back into the house right before they left for the airport.
Just as Fraser was about to finish his tea, he heard a knock at the door. Setting his cup down he got up and went to the door. Opening it, he gasped. Ray was standing there. Expect for the grin and beard, he looked exactly the same as he had the day he left.
Without a word Fraser's lips met Ray's. Ray's lips were chapped and warm, his bread scratched Fraser chin and cheek. Fraser found himself holding tightly to Ray. Ray's tongue brushed against Fraser's lips and Fraser opened his mouth. Ray tasted of coffee and chocolate.
After they broke apart Ray ginned. 'Hi, buddy, I'm home.'
Fraser smiled and loosened his hold on Ray. 'Home.'